Pilot Riot in B-b-b-Bangor Maine

We played at Central Gallery, which was a small art and music space at the top of a quaint hill. Everything in the East is kind of quaint. The little shops, the winding streets, the fact that there are Christmas lights on the trees that are lit at dusk-and it's not even remotely close to Christmas. Even the town's staple troubador Timothy, oozed charm with a thick Irish accent, a mischievous smile, and a wink to answer anything one might say to him.

The first  band was called Marathon Man- and consisted of a group of classy gents who rocked white blazers and boxed Cabernet. Their sound was reminiscent of alternative rock from the early 2000's. The venue was well attended, and packed with people of all ages. Big thanks to Meg Shorette for letting us play in her lovely space.

Dustin from Marathon Man, his super kind girlfriend Brittani, and cool roommate Ron saved us from Walmart's parking lot by letting us camp out in their backyard. And....

Fun story!! While we were setting up our tents, three cop cars pulled up, lights flashing, to interrogate us on what the heck we were doing there. I guess some neighbor called the cops on our scary big white van-thinking we had come to rob them. We all had to show them our ID's, and eventually (after much silly conversation) Cop Man #3 said barely in earshot on a walky talky, "no. No it's fine. No really...They're just musicians".

One momentous morning event was the fact that I packed up my tent by myself. As someone who struggles with IKEA furniture and Legos this is a huge accomplishment. I am now confident that I could survive a zombie apocalypse or at the very least, some hippie music festival.

After my tent victory I walked to the town square to busk for awhile, and about ten minutes in was joined by the legendary town Troubador, Timothy- who cracked himself a beer out on the street at 10 AM. I asked if he was worried about his open container and he replied with his thick Irish accent "I'm just drink in' beer on the sidewalk. I'm not killin' a horse". We spent the morning playing fiddle tunes, and chatting about his hard but fascinating life living on the streets of the East coast. 

Off to grab a cup of much needed caffeine  at West Market Coffee- and then we'll be hitting the road for Portland.

Bangor, Maine  

Bangor, Maine  

The cops, making their grand exit

The cops, making their grand exit

Timothy the troubador

Timothy the troubador