The first day of any gbs tour is always met with a very early and annoying flight usually to Pierson (how can I not help you today) International to meet the bus. Aside from the occasional whining bitch, I have yet to see anything quite so pathetic as a musician before dawn. Swollen tongued and bleary eyed, they stagger up to the check in counter with their hopes high and flys at half mast, telltale signs of a hasty retreat from a too late called cab. Sleepus Interruptus.
After being told once again that buisness class is full (as always) our catatonic heros stumble through security and onto the Fort Mac express. For those of you who don't know, this is the means by which newfoundlanders with "real" jobs commute to work in the morning.....to the tar sands of northern alberta.
Large of hand and big of heart these iron horses have become the real engines of the ever expanding alberta oil industry. Roughnecks and welders, boilermakers and operators of all variety of heavy equipment, they are known the world over for their hard work ethic and even tougher humour. They get the job done.
After 17 years on the road, I still feel like an apprentice compared to these chronic 8 week turnaround nomads. How do they do it? Why do they stay? As I look around at the weathered faces and weary eyes on this oversold slave trader, I recognize the relative comfort of my own lot and vow not to complain.
At least until tomorrow.
Let the tour be damned.
Tosh