Den Haag Denscovery

Today marks two weeks since we boarded the plane at LAX for Heathrow. None of us were quite sure of what we were signing up for, but we're getting it in droves -- unbelievable highs, emotionally challenging lows, and drama drama drama lurking behind almost every new door. Yesterday alone, one of us left the van in a fit of rage while it was moving and another one of us needed an ambulance for an asthma/panic attack. What's left, right? Well, we're thinking with the passport problems I've been having I might have some problems with border control once we hit Croatia. Thus will complete the rock n' roll trilogy of someone almost dying, someone going crazy and someone getting jailed. Oh yeah, and last but not least, a lesson: Don't elope with the van driver until the end of tour.

Sandwiched in between yesterday's daytime soap events was a trip to Amsterdam and one of the most amazing days of my life. I wasn't even stoned for most of it -- walking around the canals and buildings, seeing the people outside walking around or biking, sitting in the park, the artwork, the shops -- I really don't think it's too far-fetched to say that Heaven looks a lot like Holland. I went off with Caroline and Christina and we went off to find a gay bar. We didn't get there, but sat down at an outdoor cafe, ordered and left because the food didn't look fresh and took 30 minutes to get there. Then we had some falafels and looked for the Van Gogh museum. Christina and I didn't have any money so Caroline went in alone because she really wanted to go, while Christina and I sat outside with some "travelers" and had a joint. A lot about the scene was comically typical -- hippie Steve, who's originally from Toronto, asked us if we'd ever heard of Radiohead. I asked him if he'd ever heard of peanut butter and jelly. "The band?" he asked. "No," I said, "the sandwich." I asked college aged-looking Steve and his two female friends who were too timid to give their names if they were in school, and he said no, we're just "looking for the truth" (Later Christina said everything about them, down to the girl scribbling in her notebook with a highlighter, suggested they were shrooming. Makes sense). I had the travel acoustic so Christina and I went into a stripped-down version of "Astrozombies," which is third in our set at shows and one of my favorite Misfits songs (the chorus actually sounds really great if you throw in harmonies, which is something the Misfits don't traditionally do). Then Caroline came out from the museum in a shroud of awe and we hustled to get back to the van because we were late to meet everyone.

We got to the van about 20 minutes late and Patty and Rosie went off to find Patty an AA meeting, something she's been trying to get to since we got here -- she's 10 years sober, so among all the other physical and emotional stresses she's had to handle living with five other people who have been toasting beers in foreign countries (she's doing a little better in that respect). So the C's and I went off to find a pub or something to grab a drink, and once we did I stepped out to do some busking. I'm still sick (and Patty discovered today that she has mild bronchitis, so I probably have some of that too) but I managed to belt out enough to make 18 euro in 30 minutes. Two kind gentlemen gave me 5-euro bills, the first one having had stopped from around the corner saying "I have to give you this, you just sing so passionately." I think I was singing Borderline . . . my set is still the same one from when I used to busk in Boston, with a few new ones added in (Yes, Tim, I will be throwing in some THTG favorites, but it really isn't the same without the harmonies in there).

We all got back to the van and headed to Burger King for the most amazing "Long Chicken" sandwich I ever had, and we seemed to all be feeling good. When we got back Caroline, Christina and I had a jam party in the kitchen with a few of the Dutch who live/hang out here, while the three of us not-so-secretly worshipped the sexiest of woman, lounging at the table with a cigarette and giving us long, fearless European gazes. We all had to look down. My God, the women here.

The night ended with an episode straight from TV, which started when Patty was upset with the Japanese band sharing the room with us for smoking nearby (she has really bad asthma on top of the bronchial band cold) and escalated to her getting antibiotics and oxygen in an ambulance. Most of it was egged on by a panic attack. We went to a doctor today and she got some very good treatment so we're going to just keep her from all the cigarette smoke and hope for the best. How we're going to do that in smokey European punk clubs is a mystery of mysteries, but with enough will power anything can be done.

Gotta run. Last night in The Hague. I'm trying to keep it together. Send your loving thoughts, we need them.