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Eating on tour is serious business. Sometimes you keep going back to a place because it's cheap. Sometimes you keep going back because it's good, even if it's a little pricey. Then there are those places you return to because of tradition. Being in a different city every day for months on end can leave your head spinning. It's the little things that keep you grounded, whether it's the routine of load-in and load-out, climbing into a favorite sleeping bag or eating at your favorite greasy spoon.

The strip on Thayer Street near Brown University in Providence is full of the kind of fly-by-night transient businesses you find surrounding colleges all over the country. Coffee shops, chain restaurants serving tame Americanized ethnic cuisine and trendy clothing stores all cater to student dollars. It may seem kind of a lame spot for a band to spend half a day -- but on the other hand it has cheap places to eat a variety of food, making it a perfect spot for a van full of hungry dudes.

At least it used to be. We arrive to see our favorite restaurant has paper over the glass and a dumpster in front. Spike's Hot Dogs, which has served us countless veggie dogs (and occasionally a few real ones, depending on the band member) has apparently been closed for about two weeks. Our tradition has finally come to an end. While our nitrate and sodium levels are probably better off, we are devastated.

Thankfully, Nice Slice rises to the challenge. The Shepard Fairey-themed eatery has everything from BBQ Steak and Bacon to the "Earth Crisis Slice," a totally vegan pizza with spinach, tomatoes and artichoke hearts. We stuff our faces and hit the road -- shaken, but not defeated.

Heirloom Arts Theatre is a newer venue with an entrance hidden in an alley in Danbury, Conn. Inside is a beautiful venue with an enormous stage and a balcony. We load in, soundcheck and blow through our drink tickets perhaps a bit sooner than we should. There's no coffee in walking distance and my head is pounding, but the promoter has provided some snacks in the basement that
help with the hunger that is eventually creeping in.

Everyone is feeling great and in a wonderful mood. It seems like it's going to be a great show. There's only one problem: barely anyone shows up. It's a sleepy Sunday night in a small New England town, and it's just not going to work out well for us tonight. When no one shows up, a band has two options: phone it in or treat it like the show is packed to capacity. Thankfully, I am lucky enough to play in a band that tends to choose the latter. When people have paid to see a band they deserve the same show whether or not other kids have decided to come out. Eddie lays it on as thick as he can and winds up splitting his pants wide open in the process. He ends the set by telling the handful of young people, "We're looking for a place to stay tonight -- also some tape for my pants."

We load out in the rain (it's been raining off and on for days now) and head out to stay with a group of strangers we met at the show. A group of young girls has graciously offered their house as a place for us to crash. The house seems pretty far out in the woods and it smells like cats.

A lot.

It also seems the girls have neglected to ask their roommates about the smelly hairy rock band they're bringing into their house at 3 o'clock in the morning. They are -- to put it mildly -- suspicious of us. I toss my sleeping bag in the van and sleep there.

About the Author

Phillip Price is the keyboard player for Wilkes-Barre-based band An Albatross.

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