So Wichita kicks ass.  I needed reminding of this because, honestly, I have never found that the town in and of itself enamors itself unto me.  Its the people.  And what people they are. 

We ended up having a fantastic show at the Replay Lounge in Lawrence, to mine and everyone's surprise really.  The crowd wasn't huge, but the room isn't either, and those that were in listening to music instead of using the back patio as a smoking lounge, were present for a stirring set.  I really really enjoyed playing that set, as it softened my stance on Lawrence a bit.  We have just had really awful luck playing there.  The odd thing is, some of the best bands we have played with on tours in the past, have been in Lawrence.  Usually to an empty room.  Witness us playing with Earl Greyhound a few years back.  They're going great guns now.  We played for them that night, and they for us.  Well, not this time around.  We made a few new friends in the process, and reveled in anyplace in town that had fantastic air conditioning.  Thursday was perhaps the hottest/muggiest it had been to date (prior to Wichita that is) and poor Ryan was on the ragged edge of Heat Exhaustion.  After a good nights sleep at a travel plaza on the turnpike with the AC cranking all night, he seemed to be doing a lot better.  I'm sure the NyQuil and Tylenol PM didn't hurt with the nights sleep either. 

We wandered into Emporia, homeplace of Mr. Ryan Schierling, Photographer Extraordinaire.  After another sampling of the Chicken Fried Steak (Ryan and I made a point of trying every version we could get our hands on...perhaps I should award a winner?) at the S&S diner, we headed over to the local Dairy Queen (non brazier) for the obligatory dipped cone and blizzards.   Ryan took a nice picture of us in front of that Dairy Queen last year, and through a strange twist of fate, he was contacted by a friend of his at the local paper, and somehow that very picture of us ended up on the front page of their paper.  Odd. 

After a lengthy laundry/shower pitstop at the Flying J we pushed in to Wichita for some mexican food and then made our way to the venerable Kirby's. 
I won't lie.  The first time I saw Kirby's was back in '04 on our first trip through Wichita.  I remember being a little bummed with Aaron for booking us in what was clearly a dive bar (a tiny one at that) right next to a laundromat across the street from Wichita State University.  Which goes back to that whole not-judging a-book-by-its-cover tenet we were all imbued with at an early age.  That first night taught me more about audience interaction and acceptance and straight four on the floor rock with your amps playing into the rooms with the vocals only in the P.A. than perhaps any other performance had.  It was just about the basic elements of your craft.  You stood there and you delivered, and the audience either embraced it or they didn't.   Fortunately for us, they did, and we proceeded to blow the roof off the place, and the love they showed us cemented a kinship that to this day, seven shows there later, makes me think of Kirby's as MY bar.  My home venue.  That says something.  Part of the spirit of that place and what made it special was Steve, the owner.  He was a champion for us, and treated us with a respect that was in stark contrast to most other venues and bookers we'd encountered.  It was with great sadness that we heard through our Wichita fans that Steve had passed away quite unexpectedly about two months ago.  With that, Kirby's entered a time of uncertainty.  Our show was cancelled as the venue closed temporarily and they tried to regroup.  Fortunately Steve's sister stepped in to reopen the bar until a suitable buyer can be found.  In the intervening time, we had booked a gig in town to try and connect with the fans, if not at Kirby's.  It was an opening slot on a Saturday night at a pool hall in the south side of town.  We were pleased when we found out we would be able to play our Friday night gig at Kirby's after all, and local favorites J.A.N.E.T. were to open.  I asked what their acronym stood for, but couldn't get a clear answer.  One was Just ANother Extra Terrestrial.  I can't tell you the other suggestion; its not fit for a family audience. 

Long story short, the show was SO much fun.  So much in fact, that when a we double checked with the venue for Saturday night, and discovered that they had mistakenly thought were going be there on the 6th(!?) we immediately called Paul at Kirby's and managed to jump onto the bill for that evening, with brother and sister act Lucy and Albert.  After a few frantic myspace bulletins and messages, we were able to reassmble the gang for another evening of fun.    It was actually painful to leave the venue that night, knowing that in many ways, the experiences we have there are as genuine as they come. 
Thank you to all who made the Kirby's shows come off as a complete success, especially Paul, Rex, Nick Sarah Ann, and Chandra (our Wichita expert guide)

We left for Denver that night and Corey drove us as far as Russell that night, and after another short night of sleep, I took us into Denver.  It was the first chunk of another monumental push back to Seattle.  We played at 3 Kings, and alas, the local support band dropped off the bill.  Can I just ask the obvious...who the hell does that?  There was a local band and one from San Diego schduled to play.  Neither were there.  We ended up playing for a fair amount of people getting their Sunday drink on after the Warped Tour show in town that day.  Apparently we also played for "Against Me!" who was present in the bar that night, though I didn't know it at the time.  Weird.  I can't say as I would recognize the dudes anyway, but I know they are a big deal, so it would have been fun to hear what they thought.  Maybe they hated it?  I'd like to think all professional musicians can glean something from a totally different genre.  In any case, it was a strange end to a strange tour.  But then they are all strange.  There is a total disconnect from any sort of real normalcy when you are driving in a military grey former handicapped bus, lumbering from city to city in the midwest, plying your craft.  There is no "normal" there, and yet you do find comfort and a routine to it all.  I would love to say that we do it for the fans alone, but of course its for us as well.  We love to play you.  We love to play for us.  It is our passion to put that moment across.  The one that stops you from the conversation you might be engrossed in and makes you just stare for a minute,  as we try to find the sound and the mood and the fiber that resonates in us all.  I could see it in the eyes of the good people of Wichita as we hit our stride;  The simple undiluted love of music. 

Thanks to each and every person who made this tour possible, and we'll see you next time. 

Ross & Spanish for 100