Someone Tried To Break Into The Van…And Farted.

Someone Tried To Break Into The Van…And Farted.

Tour Diary: Day Eight (9/18/15)

Hello Portland! Big fat yummy burgers and a stroll in the park. You know, while pretending water was shooting out of our orifices (my favorite part is the guy laughing in the background).

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Our Portland show was in a Dr. Who themed bar, which was weird in and of itself. Combine that with a very tiny stage (only Ben fit on it) in a very tiny room and you’ve got yourself a pretty awkward show.


The cool thing was that my friend Izzy came, brought friends, and let us stay with her at her adorable house in Woodstock (SE neighborhood in Portland). Izzy and I met at the restaurant we worked at together in Austin, and were known for our late night cry-laughing (after 12 hour shifts we tended to think everything was funny and would laugh until we cried so hard we couldn’t speak, doubled over while polishing glassware). Staying with her was extra cool because hotel prices in Portland are HIGH, and her cat Nyx is the prettiest cat in the world.


After the show we met Izzy and her friends at a fancy-ish cocktail bar in North Portland (oops, didn’t realize it was ghetto) and were hanging out on the patio drinking, looking directly at the van which was parked across the street. It was our typical post-show vibe – everyone kinda tired and winding down for the night. I was telling a hilarious story (which I do often, on account of how hilarious I am) about how my manager Haden had helped an old man who fell down outside of our restaurant, and as he lifted him up to his feet, he farted. Our friend Jen (another notorious cry-laugher) had been walking through the dining room several days later (this is a fancy place, mind you), couldn’t stop thinking about the fart, and started giggling uncontrollably. She had to run to the kitchen where she burst into tears, and I filmed her and sent it to Izzy.

As Izzy and I are cry-laughing about Jen cry-laughing about farts, we suddenly hear a loud shattering noise come from the van. Chico scaled the table and reached the van in .2 seconds, with Marcos close behind, who dusted off his old bouncer skills and took the dude to the ground. The breaking glass sound was thankfully made by a large bowl that he had smashed into the side window of our van, and not the actual van window breaking. “I’m just so angry, i’m just so angry” he kept drunkely mumbling while Marcos restrained him. At one point I saw Izzy walk up to see what was going on, then walk away. I thought maybe she didn’t want to be involved, but didn’t think much of it. By the time it was all sorted out we were wide awake, finishing our drinks, watching drunk dude get carted away with some very sore ribs. The bar very nicely gave Marcos a free beer for his valor, and as we took turns expressing our disbelief at what had just happened, I found Izzy was giggling again. “He was farting the whole time!” she managed to get out. Marcos started laughing and confirmed. I guess they had tried to ignore the farting since it was such a tense situation, and the rest of us, not close enough to hear, were oblivious to all the hilarious farts.

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The next day we spent a little time in Woodstock eating lunch and walking around. It was really cute and reminded me of the little villages in upstate New York that I grew up near. I met a girl named Erin who gave us a lucky cactus totem for the van, we ate some tacos, and left for Olympia.


Love you, Peen!

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