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Sleeping in the van means waking up early. Especially when you're parked next to a metal shop where they start blasting the local classic rock station at 7 a.m. I stumble out of the van and wander down the block to find a coffee shop staffed by the least enthusiastic individuals I've ever met. A spare newspaper informs me the Dow dropped 777 points yesterday and that Congress is arguing about the proposed $700 billion bailout of the financial sector. This is good news for me. After all, if our government can scrape together that much money to help out investors that gambled away other people's hard-earned money, I am sure they can find a few million to dump into the failing music industry, right?

We always get at least a little lost driving into Boston, and today is no different, although Tufts is in Medford, far enough north that we only have to briefly endure the spaghetti roads of Cambridge. Once we arrive at any college, we begin the process of asking college students where buildings are on their own campus, a procedure which almost never produces anything but confusion. We park the van and send out scouts.

It seems we're playing the Oxfam Midnight Café, a volunteer café run by members of the Oxfam club on campus. Oxfam is a social justice organization dedicated to fair trade and feeding starving populaces, so it's just the kind of progressive place in which we feel right at home. When I ask for coffee from the bar, the volunteers seem a bit worried. When I notice it's taking them a rather long time to draw two shots of espresso -- and that they're paging through the manual for the machine -- I offer to help out and soon find myself behind the bar repairing and operating their machine.

Steve's found himself back home in a way. He spent a few years here attending Berklee, and his family has driven from New Hampshire to see him play. Steve's father Chris is a great guy to talk to and once flew out to surprise Steve at a show in Denver on his birthday. Most importantly, he has brought Steve a spare sleeping bag from home to replace the one we had to throw away after staying at the house in Danbury. While Steve was sleeping on the floor, several cats decided to mark the snoring mound that had invaded their space by soaking it with urine.

The Cape Cod kids that weren't allowed to see us in Northampton have come to the show, and they are front and center when we play, which is truly wonderful. There is no stage and barely a PA, but we all have a great time and somehow manage to get through it without smashing anything or blowing out any fuses.

After playing we trek to the house of our friend Tom and his girlfriend Georgia. Tom is one of the nicest, most sincere and funny human beings I've ever met. He roadied for us a few tours back, and it truly did wonders for morale. We use Tom's stove to cook up a feast of couscous, ramen noodles and instant mashed potatoes, and I fall asleep on a couch with a warm feeling in my chest.

About the Author

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

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