Atlanta, Ga is our destination. Hotlanta is a misnomer. Raein and their drivers freeze as they lug their gear through the rain into Well Street Warehouse/punk squat/”were (sic) ladies do fitness.” Once inside, we find no shortage of hospitality and squat aesthetic. Graffiti. Squalor. Makeshift bathhroom. Elite track bike. Living areas. Filth. Usual.

Blogging Note: Details are for snots.

Show was very good. Local bands were very good and came with a solid following of young fans that returned screams louder than Raein delivered them. Raein super fan in thongs. Pack up. Depart. Notice venue is smack dab in between the hood and gentryland. Weird.

The night’s sleep location wasn’t determined before the show so Brian had to use his Indiana boy charm to secure us a floor and a roof. By the grace of Wesley’s brother, and some dimwitted locals, we were able to loosely follow a car of strangers to a mansion in Woodstock, GA, a suburb of Atlanta. Luck holds.

Arrive in green van. Eight tour worn bros exit van. Laugh at nice mansion. Laugh at the security our van possess as it sits in neighborhood of wealth. Enter mansion. Laugh at furnishings. Laugh with residents. Owners not present. Adults semi present. Beer absent. 90 beers arrive. Raein “flip cup” virgins. Raein flip cup sluts. Allesio goes pro. Fireplace is fake. Raein and the Indiana boys sleep.

Wake. Explore mansion.

Atlanta Mansion Note: Have you seen “Empire of the sun?” You know the house a young Christian Bale survives in for awhile after his parents bounce/get took? Sorta like that except with more dog spoiled carpet and hookahs.

Post exploration, we eat food from mansion, Phil is the lone shower taker, we depart.

Nashville.

Advertisement