The airport is always a comedy for us. We have too much stuff. Amp heads. Suitcases. Last year we didn’t have pedal boards, but now both Darwin and I have these giant heavy pedal boards. Now we travel with our own stage lights, so we have this big black box of lights to squeeze onto the plane. At the check-in counter, Darwin and Tim unfolded and refolded our giant light-up starry night sky backdrop, trying to make it compact enough to be approved as a carry-on, because when things are carry-ons we save like $50. The crew at the counter, head to toe in Virgin Atlantic red, are always baffled by our avalanche of belongings. One guy tells us that we have to check in the star backdrop here at the desk and pay full price. Another lady tells us that it’s cool, that we can check it at the gate as a carry-on. Are we getting more professional or more weighed down? More sophisticated or more convoluted? It is an airport riddle.
At security, they tell us that those giant American body scanners don’t cause cancer, because they don’t use certain types of rays or whatever, but I always err on the side of caution/paranoia and choose the pat down. I am read my Miranda rights, asked if I have any sensitive areas or injuries, and told that when the guard checks my groin and buttocks that he will be using the back of his latex gloved hands.
Some kind of fog is causing trouble and our flight is delayed two and a half hours. Darwin and I get out our guitars and do some unamplified airport terminals noodling.
I’m excited to go fly over to England to play some shows. I’m excited for our Edinburgh show, where our old friend from the antifolk scene, Lach, will be opening. Lach was the godfather in the old days at the Sidewalk Cafe at the antihoot where Darwin and I first met, where we were cutting our teeth. It will be special to play a big show with him on the other side of the pond, in Edinburgh, that enchanted castle city.