“I don’t think anyone’s going to show up.”
After the chaos of last night, everyone is trying to be a bit more positive about this whole experience. Not even the realisation that death is a very real and fast approaching concept can make me positive about driving this bunch of morons to Switzerland, however.
Despite my many warnings and scare stories, we have absolutely no issues getting into Switzerland. Nobody stops us at the border, nobody pulls us over on the highways, it’s a stress free drive really. Sorry, boring, i know.
We arrive in the beautiful town of Bellinzona. It really is stunning. There are hills with castles on and everything. Our venue tonight is a quirky pub/rock bar which when we arrive has a bustling outside seating area. We’re there fairly early and despite Aussie 2 supposedly being our tour manager at this point, no-one is being very proactive. With this in mind, I spend a painstaking few minutes expertly reversing my mile long van into a snug parking space beside the venue.
I enter the venue to find out what’s going on, the staff are very friendly and advise us they will be feeding us soon. Wonderful. We sit down and enjoy a lovely candlelit meal of venue pasta together as we discuss plans for after the final show tomorrow in Milan. We had already established that the Aussie’s were not going to be coming back to the UK with us, they want to milk this all expenses paid holiday for all it’s worth and do a bit of traveling together around the mainland. I discuss the 15+ hour drive from Milan back to the Brits practice space, and they let me now that they’ve been giving that some serious thought.
“Yeah, i think we’re just going to fly home from Milan and meet you there.”
So essentially what they’re trying to say is ‘enjoy driving 15 hours on your own mate.’
I find it pretty ridiculous that they’re so unprepared to spend a day more in a van that they’re going to pay out further expenses to fly home, but i’m actually secretly pretty ecstatic at the prospect of getting rid of them all sooner.
A short while later, and Aussie 2 is barking orders about load in. He insists that it would be far too much of a hassle for us to move the relatively light backline from the van where it’s parked now and demands it’s moved directly in front of the venue. I tell him that’s pointless as we’d be moving it 10 seconds closer to only have to move it back again, but he’s having none of it. I resentfully huff off to the van and in my haste to move it forget about the waist high wall i’ve parked next to. A disgusting noise tells me i’ll be looking at some body repair work when i finally escape this nightmare.
After load in me and Aussie 2 have a nice walk around the town, admiring our surroundings. We look unsuccessfully for a cash machine and lament over the disaster this past week has been.
It’s difficult to not be smug as the night plays out exactly as I imagined. All the casual drinkers disappear once the sun goes down, and aside from a lone couple who have traveled to see the gig, the venue is empty. I hold off the urge to scream ‘I TOLD YOU SO YOU DICKS’ in their faces as we load out post show and begin the drive over the border to Milan to stay with tomorrow night’s promoter.
The moment we enter the guys house i find a single inflatable mattress in a room and fall asleep on it whilst everyone else is faffing about with showers etc. Fuck ‘em.