The Vampire State. I dreamt all night of the best cup of hot chocolate in the world. Rachel had made me a cup of hot chocolate right before I went to bed. It was made from local chocolate, chopped finely and melted and stirred and smoothed and creamied and aw yeah. I had to use a spoon to finish the cup. Aw yeah aw yeah.

I had parked in a permit-only zone the night before, and to our delight we hadn't received a ticket. Breakin' the law. We set out to find the local Guitar Center to buy some cables and a new keyboard sustain pedal. Let me say two words about driving in Boston in a big van: don't doit. Rachel said that the city founders basically paved the old cow paths to designate the main roads. That makes sense. It seems like a city road system planned by cows. We got plenty lost a couple of times, but eventually we parked at Guitar Center and got everything taken care of.

We made our way out of Boston at a cow's pace and took off for New York. The Saw Mill Parkway is a beautiful drive, lined with trees and trees. Josh hung his movie camera out the window to take some film of the drive. We were making our way south to Manhattan to meet with Conrad, Death Cab For Cutie's lawyer. Soon we were in Manhattan, which is a tiny New York town some of you may have heard of, or perhaps you saw it in a movie. I hear there are actually a few movies set in Manhattan, but I have yet to see one. You should all see Manhattan someday. We'll go back someday and I'll make sure to take more pictures. I want you all to see it. It was very friendly! The people were very courteous and let us pass and change lanes whenever we wanted. There was hardly any traffic anyway. I thought there would be some taxis around, but I didn't see a single one! There weren't any potholes in the roads. Every parking garage we went to was large, spacious, and inexpensive. We had to see a few just to make sure they were all as friendly and roomy as the first one we visited! So cheap! And they were so happy to accommodate our van. We decided that they were so courteous that we might as well do them a favor and park on the street so they could be friendly to more people that might not otherwise have been able to park in their fine structures.

We met with Conrad for a while and then made our way to Brooklyn to play our show at North 6th. We had a very pleasant and easy drive down 2nd Street in Manhattan, free from complications and traffic. There were no poorly marked turn lanes, construction areas, double-parked delivery trucks, inept taxi drivers, unconcerned jaywalkers, speeding ambulances, bottlenecks, accidents, or red lights! It was wonderful. (Okay, all sarcasm ceases from here out, I promise.)

Brooklyn is pretty ghetto.

North 6th was much nicer than I thought it was going to be. Set in a dark industrial warehouse area near the waterfront, it was very spacious and clean, and the sound system was very full and solid. Mike Cancel, Slowdance Records' East Coast representative, turned out to see us and to give us a place to stay. We all walked down to the waterfront so I could get a picture or two of the Manhattan skyline across the river. We could see the Ghost Towers, a memorial to the World Trade Center composed of two beams of white light shining straight into the sky from the disaster site. I marveled at the city a little bit, knowing that it will probably be a long time before I ever see Manhattan from Brooklyn again. We ate dinner at a small pizza and pasta place where the guy behind the counter seemed to think screaming "NEXT PLEASE! NEXT PLEASE!" helped customers decide faster.

Alison's (and my) friend Nat showed up for the concert. It was nice to see a familiar face. He was wearing a Velvet Teen shirt, officially proclaiming himself to be "that guy, the one who wears the band's shirt to the concert."

The first band was called Orange Park, a very tight pop outfit with actual melodies. I cannot stress enough the pleasure it is to see bands who have songs with melodies. Take it from me--if you're trying to get people to like your band, a good gimmick is to have good melodies. Not just repetitive ones.

We played second and finished the night on the two-band bill. Given that we had enough time to play as long as we wanted, and that our friend Catherine (who was visiting Mike and his friends for a while) had a list of requests, we managed an eleven-song set, axing only one song at Judah's throat's request. It was great. Despite the nearly-overwhelming amount of cigarette smoke, Judah sang a top-notch set with a voice that's back up to 99 percent power. There were quite a few people there, and they all seemed to enjoy the show. I mentioned to the audience that I had my They Might Be Giants shirt on because they were from Brooklyn. One guy in the room, who was also wearing a They Might Be Giants shirt, screamed "THEY MIGHT BE GIANTS! WOOOO!" while flailing about madly. Someone in the back said "Let's hear it for that guy!" and the crazy fan received a warm round of applause. Josh asked the audience how many of them were from New York originally, and only two or three people raised their hands. A lot of them were originally from California.

While I was getting some fresh air outside, Nat and I watched a van driver smash his front bumper trying to parallel park in a tiny space. A gross-looking middle-aged bleached-blonde cigarette-smoking vampire woman in a green Camaro had been waiting behind him as he maneuvered, and as she drove by she rolled down her window and yelled, "Oh, good job! Ha ha, good job!" Friendly New Yorkers.

We all made our way back to Mike's apartment after the show to a party replete with drunken guys, drunken girls, loud booty music, alcohol, and cigarettes. It wasn't exactly what I would call the most relaxing atmosphere for a touring band, but hey--the road is a B. I. Itch, my friend. Where's my quiche? The people at the party were friendly and funny, but I soon found myself needing a good rest. I inflated my air mattress and stuffed it into a corner of Mike's bedroom, put in some ear plugs and fell fast asleep.

Logan