04.23.18 – 11:31AM CET – Monday morning – Schiphol Airport Gate D47, Amsterdam

For the first time in the 10 that I’ve made this trip, I was up before my alarm this morning. It was set for 7:30AM and I was out of bed by 7:05. I’d gone to sleep around three after finishing the review and unplugging my brain for the evening, decided even though it’s a 13.00 flight, I’d get up early and do the packing in the morning and crash out as soon as possible. I shudder to think what I left behind at the hotel.

One year I left my comfy pillow. I even tried to call and ask them to send it to me, was how much I loved that pillow. They pretty much told me to fuck off.

And who could argue?

Also this morning, another first, I changed at den Bosch all by myself. No asking at the information counter. Reading signs helped. Nonetheless, I felt like a pro at this whole thing.

As I was coming to the gate, I got asked the standard round of “did you have your luggage the whole time,” “did you pack it all yourself” questions and I kind of realized at that moment that no, I didn’t pack it all myself. I’m carrying a box of records home that I was given that I haven’t even had the chance to open yet. They asked me if I was selling them and I laughed. Hell no. That shit, whatever it is, is mine.

They gave me a green sticker to put on my passport, which I assume means I’ll never see my baggage again. Too bad. My Ancestors shirt and favorite pair of sweatpants were in there.

Plus, you know, a whole box of records.

Because life makes this much sense, I’m overshooting Boston to make a connecting flight in Detroit and then heading back east to Boston. Perfect, right? If you ever need a metaphor for navigating anything related to Beantown, there it is. Please use it freely.

But I’ve had a couple cups of coffee, ate an airport egg salad sandwich and and apple, and the bleeps and bloops and swirls of Dr. Space continue to ring in my head, so I must be on my way home from Roadburn, even though it will take me I can’t count how many hours to get there.

Before I get on this plane, I want to say a couple thank yous. First and foremost to The Patient Mrs., for letting me have this even though she knew it meant she’d be running point with The Pecan for five/six days solid. I do not expect to let her change a diaper for the next week.

Thanks to Walter — FOREVER — and to Esther, Becky, Lee, Gijs, Jamie, Rianne, Koos and the entire team at the 013. We did get the final issue of the ‘zine out yesterday. It was eve my photo of Zach Oakley from Joy/Volcano that got used. I was honored. That’s a first for me.

Thanks to my family, my mother and sister, for their love and support.

Thanks to Paul, Niels, Kim, Dan, Dom, José, Cheryl, Jamie, Ben and everyone on the staff of the Weirdo Canyon Dispatch. This year cut it a little close for comfort. If we’re fortunate enough to do it next year, Lee and I joked we’d start in November, and the more I think about it, that might be the way to go.

Thanks to everyone in the photo pit, Falk-Hagen, Dante, to Jon Freeman, Andreas Kohl, Jurgen, Kenny Sehgal, Dave and Robin Sweetapple, Jens Heide for that box of records, and Markus, Nicole, Dave MIBK, Dana Schecter and everyone else I saw and met along the way this year.

I’d like to send a special thanks to the coffee machine in the office of the 013, the coffee machine backstage at the 013, the coffee machine in the lobby of the Hotel Mercure and the little Nespresso in the room itself.

And as always, most of all, I’d like to thank you for reading and making this entire thing possible. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Thank you.

This one was a trip to be sure. But I miss my baby boy and I miss my wife and my dog and I hear we’re basically having spicy curry for dinner all week, so it’s time to go home.

Thank you for reading.

Tags: Roadburn 2018, Roadburn 2018 Trip, The Netherlands, Tilburg

This entry was posted on Monday, April 23rd, 2018 at 4:52 am and is filed under Features. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.