The Perfect Storm--Alter Bridge Prelude #2 Getting to STL!

ALTER BRIDGE—ST. LOUIS, Getting there is ALL the fun...

Nothing makes you appreciate a rock show like driving 6 hours through a blizzard in south-central IL, passing dozens of slide-offs, crunched speeders, and jack-knifed semi-trailers. Alter Bridge was smart enough to leave the night before to beat the storm, but we didn’t have a driver for hire (except for the one snoring in my bed) so we needed to wait until morning.

View from our 8th floor room at The Sax Sunday morning (Photo by Steph)

View of the 1895 Chicago Varnish Co. Building in central Chicago. Pretty. (Thanks to Steph for photo and Vera for info on the Henry Ives Cobb building!)

Big, harmless flakes of snow and wet roads were the scene as we left Chicago—along with some more sobering scenes frozen in my mind after watching the weather channel as we made ready to depart. I didn’t really have any question about our upcoming trip. We. Were. Fucked. Sarah was completely non-plussed, which seemed a good arrangement since she would again be driving.

For the record, Stephanie had a blast on our harrowing trip—most of the time, anyway. Sarah’s knuckles threatened to break through her skin on multiple occasions, which Steph could not see from where she sat. She read through her magazines and struggled to get a signal on her phone, to no avail.

All in all, we endured about 5 hours of 45 mph wind gusts covering our vision with a blanket of white. Not so much from the skies—mostly from the cornfields. Visibilty wavered between 75% and 0%, leaning more and more to the latter the further we got. Under the gusts of snow, on what looked like perfectly dry roads, we found black ice for hundreds of miles.

Steph eventually was able to reach Facebook from her phone, giving my dad a near heart attack when he read the conditions in which we were traveling. She was promptly cut off and directed back to her magazines. About 20 miles outside Springfield, apparently the ONLY city between Chicago and St. Louis, Sarah had me call her husband for a weather update. That meant revealing our situation to him as well as Dad (Jeff had not been following FB.) We gave our location and he gave me a very low groan, followed by the news that we had a 6 hour set of blizzard bands stalled on top of us. I tried to be encouraging by telling him how close we were to Springfield, but was interrupted by Sarah saying, “Hang up.” I thanked him cheerfully and hung up.

Steph took this and labeled Sarah as "Tenacious." Fitting!

The last 20 miles took 60 minutes. Rumor has it that a tanker exploded just past the Springfield exits, which brought all of us (and we were many) to a complete halt for most of the time. By this time I was ready to leave the car and jog the last 20 miles, just to escape the tension trapped in the car, but I don’t think I would have gotten far.




Brief clear moment in the storm--roads still ice covered (My photo)

Just as we reached Springfield, the band of clouds parted a bit and we could see sun. Though she did pull off at the last exit, Sarah risked her life by telling the two of us that she thought we could make it the last 100 miles into STL. Reminder—we had been on the roads watching people get into accidents for FIVE HOURS. The only thing that kept her alive after that declaration was the fact that she had gotten us this far alive. But she was vetoed, and heartily, and we stopped at a very disinfected Hilton for the evening.

Despite a café that looked worse than the oldest Denny’s in Madison, Steph and I enjoyed an absolutely delicious meal—perhaps more so because it was a) warm, and b) a celebration of life. Sarah had spotted a Long John Silvers—a grease-laden staple from our childhood—and after fidgeting in her café chair impatiently for not even five minutes, made a break for it.

Though I could see the LJS restaurant (and I do call it that loosely) from the windows of the Hilton, Sarah still had not returned after an hour. Steph wondered aloud if she was stubborn enough to prove we could have made it by driving alone to STL. My nerves were too frayed to give that the laugh it deserved, at least partly because there was some truth to it.

Eventually Sarah made her way back in, loaded down with bags. She saw my look and froze when I asked her what the hell had happened to her and did she not think we MIGHT be concerned for her safety alone in the middle of a fucking blizzard? At which point she asked where my phone was.

Oops. Upstairs, my phone held a text message with a confession from Sarah that she had not only found LJS but also a few stores, and well, why not shop when stuck in the middle of nowhere in a blizzard? I diverted attention from my gaffe by bragging to her that she missed out on the best cuisine ever tasted in the Midwest. She was not fooled.

Incidentally... Secret remedy for drying out phones accidentally dropped into toilets before shows in Chicago. Cause of said dropping in background?? (Dropped by Sarah, photographed by Steph)

Sarah, Nancy and Steph in Springfield setting out for STL (Photo by fellow stranded traveler)

The next day, after finding someone to take a picture of the three of us in 30 mph gusts and maybe a foot of snow in front of the hotel, we made for STL.

Though the black ice remained--we were ready for that--we were more than happy to find that the skies were perfectly clear above us. Steph ventured to guess it would be downright cozy waiting outside in the sun for 6 hours. I believe the temperature when we left Springfield were roughly 5 above, with -15 wind chills. I left Steph to her fantasies, and pictured my obituary. “44 year-old moron found frozen to a camping chair outside a concert venue where her favorite band was not even scheduled to headline. And it wasn’t even Soundgarden!” They would save my family embarrassment by omitting my name. Or so I hoped.

Though we missed our previous day’s appointment with the STL Arch, it was glorious to behold as we entered the city. For me, I think it was more about knowing we had actually made it. I think Steph got a few pictures of it from various angles, about 250 or so.

The Arch from all angles (Steph)

We found the Moonrise Hotel and the adjacent Pageant extremely fast, and as I checked in, Sarah unloaded about 3 tons of camping gear for our vigil outside the venue. I accompanied our luggage up to the room and DAYUM!! did not want to leave for at least a year. Heaven is in STL, at the Moonrise Hotel. That was some suite.

The Moonrise (Steph)

And right out the window, I looked over at the Alter Bridge bus (near side, with trailer) and the Sick Puppies bus parked right behind us. (Mad City’s van was hidden on the far side, or I might have egged it.)

So we had our room, our place in line (first, like any idiot was going to sit out in that weather 6 hours before doors opened) AND the location of the buses for after the show. I parked the car right by the AB bus and van and watched for a bit to make sure which door was the stage door. A good stalker’s homework is never done. As soon as I saw enough roadies using one particular door, I was satisfied and made my way to the Pageant to join the campsite.

My pic from our room at the Moonrise: AB bus & trailer. Also my PRIMO parking spot yet empty to right of white car, upper right, where I parked for some pre-concert stalking.

Thankfully, a picture speaks a thousand words, so I don’t have to explain how utterly ridiculous we looked out there alone for more than 4 hours. Well, not entirely alone. The same panhandlers passed in front of us every 20 minutes, asking for everything from 60 cents to buy posters for a good cause. We told the poster guy to keep those and gave him some funds, then later when the Chinese restaurant doubled our order, we were able to share food with another hungry dude. That reminds me that as we stopped for breakfast on the road that morning, there was a transient on the interchange, in the full brunt of the winds. That was too much for me, so we scrambled to find a $10. McDonald’s screwed up our order too, in our favor, then we made a wrong turn on the highway, which brought us back to the same guy we had just given money to. This time we gave him breakfast. He either thought we were insane, or that he was the first homeless person we had ever seen. Only the former.

Sarah, Steph and I (Photo by passing dude)

Back at the venue, the sun DID help make the 5 degrees feel a lot more like 7, and most of the wind was blocked. I may have gotten a bit of a sunburn on my nose—the only piece of flesh I exposed from time to time. (I held my breath as long as possible in between exposures.) I stuffed every mitten and pocket and shoe with heat packs usually used for insane hunting fanatics—and actually sustained a burn from one of the pocket packs, I would discover when I took my shower. I had taken it out a few hours into the wait, feeling that I was perhaps about to ignite from my left hip pocket. I’m glad I did.

The Pageant (Steph)

Steph, seemingly oblivious to the cold, made the best of the situation and wandered the block, taking pictures of places I would have no memory of later. Steph is one die-hard tourist, I will say that!! Sarah, meanwhile, set up the mini-bar in the back of the car, which she moved from my PRIMO spot to the front of the venue. I know it was great for before the show, but if we had had the car in my, what did I call it, PRIMO spot afterwards, we would have had a warm place to wait for 90 minutes, RIGHT at the front of the line of crazies that set out to stalk the boys in sub-zero weather. Not that I’m bitter. I will learn how to walk without these toes in good time, and I’ve always just typed with a few fingers…

Steph's shot of Sarah and me still battling the crowds at The Pageant

After several scintillating hours, I decided to go up and take my pre-concert shower. It was like being in my own personal spa. Having to hurry was goddamn painful. While I was away, a smooth-talking and smooth-looking young fellow stopped to interview Sarah as one-of-those-crazies-who-camp-out-before-a-show. I haven’t seen the interview, but Steph has pictures of her showing him her mini-bar and the whole nine yards. She also worked him as hard as possible to go back in and convince Myles to come out to see us, though he was officially working for the Puppies. Of course I had twittered our location to Myles and Mark and begged for an entrance to sound check but alas, my cries went unheeded.

Sarah being interiewed by Sick Puppies videographer

Sarah shows off her formidable tailgating skills (Steph)

What DID happen was still amusing and extremely unexpected. As I got ready to leave the hotel, I heard a group of women laughing as they entered the room next to mine. More concert-goers, I thought to myself. Sure enough, as I exited the building, I found myself right behind the Midwest Mamas (a group of friends united through geography and devotion to Chris Cornell). I knew them all from Twitter and Facebook, and also had the pleasure of meeting them before and after Soundgarden dominated the stage at Lollapalooza August 8 in Chicago. Jill, Julie, Tina and Nanci were here to party with Alter Bridge (and each other, LOL)!

I caught up with them as we all hit the line, and introductions ensued, as Sarah had not met any of them yet. Soon everyone was telling stories of interviews and traveling through blizzards and how to mix the perfect Vodka drink from the trunk of a car. The Midwest gals decided to go back to the hotel for dinner, but as the bar entrance was due to open in less than 45 minutes, we let them go on without us. There were now finally other fans behind us—almost all of them young Sick Puppies fans. Alter Bridge and the Puppies had decided that AB would headline in Chicago, while the SP would headline in STL, where they reportedly had a larger fan base.

We were all stomping our numb feet as I stepped towards the bar entrance to see if I could see anything. Next thing I know, Shimon Moore, lead singer of the Puppies, burst out of the door in a long-sleeve t-shirt and enormous smile, and wrapped his arms around me before I had the chance to say What the fuck?

Me, the very huggable Shim of Sick Puppies, Sarah, and Steph (Photo by God knows who)

You have to understand that it is not every day that a beautiful 30-something rising rock star comes running out to throw himself at me. Let’s just say I decided to enjoy the moment and ask questions later. Shim told us he had heard there were about 5 (more like 3, but who’s counting) die-hard fans who had been there for 6 hours. The reporter that interviewed Sarah was kind enough not to mention we were really die-hard AB fans—like I said, Shim is nothing to sneeze at and we had truly enjoyed their set in Chicago. And I’ll tell you what, I am a fan now! The picture is fuzzy, but my memory of him charging out wearing nothing but jeans, a t-shirt and a megawatt smile is perfectly clear. God bless ya’, Shim!

He did stay out long enough to hug about 7 people (again, who’s counting) before running back in. I felt like I’d been sipping on Sarah’s Blue Juice after that and didn’t feel the cold again before they opened the doors about 15 minutes later.

Sarah and 22 y.o. Russ watching a video before the doors opened. (Steph)

Being old farts gained us early entry in the bar—a mixed blessing. It WAS warmer than outside (a meat locker was warmer than outside) but it was pretty chilly since Sarah offered to take our coats out to the car for the show. Then the smoke began to fill the place. This was not Smoke-Free Madison. I slid down by the door separating us from the venue and drank in the cold, fresh air under the door. The Midwest Mamas made it back a short while later, and I kidnapped Nanci Freed and brought her to the front with us, as she had flown in from Cleveland and was a long-time AB fan. The other gals had been convinced by us to give AB a try, and they decided to go for it as an excuse to hold a mini-reunion. So they enjoyed the bar and we sat on the floor watching Sarah make fast friends with all the Sick Puppy kids. I was ready for a blanket and a nap. Was feeling all 44.5 years by this point in our travels.

After a short and smoky eternity, the door finally opened and we made for the rail. WHICH WAS FILLED WITH PEOPLE ALREADY. Sarah was the one who blew a minor gasket at the House of Blues when we ran into this, but after a blizzard and six fucking hours in five degree weather, I was the one who stormed up and asked what the FUCK these kids were doing on the rail I had just risked an early death for. These kids were a little more malleable than the ones at the HoB, or I was scarier-looking—I’m not sure and I don’t care. I found out they were all winners of a local radio contest and therefore had super early access. The word FUCK repeatedly came to mind.

Look—you set out on a trip with one goal in mind, be it getting into Wally World with your kids after driving cross country with your dead mother on the roof of your station wagon—or being on the rail for Myles Kennedy. Wally World is fictional; Myles Kennedy is not. With Sarah’s help (my suggestion to massacre them all on the spot was vetoed) we learned that they were ALL Sick Puppies fans. From there Sarah negotiated to take their rail positions for Alter Bridge, who would be opening for SP, then they could have all the fucking rail they wanted when our boys had left the stage. We got into Wally World. And I had the microphone spot, despite Sarah’s loud insistence to all around us as we stood in line that she was laying claim to the position directly in front of Myles’ penis. I should probably edit that out, but she told enough people that someone, somewhere, has to have already blogged it, so I’m not really sharing anything new. I don’t know what had gotten into me, besides sheer exhaustion, bone-shattering cold, and years of impatience all accrued within a matter of about 36 hours, but once I got on the rail next to some 6-ft tall 12 year-old, I was not moving. And I did not—except to go get ice cold water for all of us (who doesn’t need THAT on a day like this) and to visit the bathroom, which WAS the exact temperature of a meat locker. I took a standing nap shivering on the pre-chilled rail as Sarah chatted with the SP kids, and Steph and Nanci got caught up.

GOAL ACHIEVED: Rail at The Pageant in STL!!

L-R: Nancy, Sarah, Steph and Nanci (photo by security)

I was so damn tired and cold I was almost happy to see Bad City. But only because I still had Steve Porter’s ear plugs. I was ready for the ear-bleed inducing motherfuckers this time. And if you want to read about their one fan—and she was most definitely a fan—you can go back to my previous post about Chicago’s opening bands. I’m not wasting two posts on Bad City.

The one VERY nice thing about losing the headlining spot was that we did NOT have to stand for 3 hours before AB came on. Just one cold silent hour, one deafening 45 minutes, and another 15 cold minutes. And then the rest of the world simply melted away at Myles’ feet.