Kirsten Thien and her band are venturing out from the wilds of New York City and it’s friendly environs to cross the great American continent.
We will feature her updates from the road as she gets them to us, and hope that you good folks will enjoy the insights, and thoughts as she shares them with us here.
Check back often as this is a really cool thing that she is doing.
You can also check out her website at http://kirstenthien.com/
May 8th 2012 – THE KIRSTEN THIEN BAND “C2 Shining C Tour” Blog
The van. It’s packed expertly and to the gills by the boys in the band. Not one more item can be put in. We are almost directly in front of my apartment and wagging our tails in excitement for our great adventure. We are also pretty much on time (miraculous, given the early call for an 800 mile/15 hour drive) and I am elated that tonight we will sleep somewhere northwest of Chicago, with one-third of our driving for the week behind us!
Turn the key and…nothing. Did I say “nothing”? I mean….NOTHING. Not even a click.
Band: “Oh Sh&#. Kirsten did you leave the lights on last night?”
Kirsten: “No, definitely not!”
Erik: ”Hey can we reach the lighting kit?!”
Band and Kirsten: (confused looks)
Erik: “Where’s the lighting kit? I packed a voltage meter with the lights.”
Band and Kirsten: “A wh—what?!”
Erik: ”A voltage meter! I’ll see if it’s the battery.”
(time elapes with much bustling and working of the ‘voltage meter)
Erik: ”The meter shows 4.65. It’s the battery.”
The rest of us can’t imagine why Erik thought to bring a “voltage meter”…but here we are in front to the house and using it already (and I am praying we don’t have to use it again this trip). Before we kill an hour waiting for AAA, I have the guys put up the hood and I use my charms (consisting of a genuine scared and helpless look) to begin the car-flag-down process. After much perspiration, and cold chills worrying that we won’t make our destination in time tonight, and worrying about the cascading effect that will have on tomorrow, I find a fellow New Yorker willing to take a break from his busy day and wait 10 minutes until my car will jumpstart. Battery indeed. I’ve never accidentally run my battery down, and when the car comes on nothing appeared to be left on or blinking. A mystery. Why today!? But no time to contemplate! With only 45 minutes to make up on the road, we’re off!
Ordering a “Polish” (poe-lish) at 10:30pm in South Bend, IN. They tell me it’s a Polish sausage, but I can tell it’s really a big fancy hotdog and will wipe out all my well planned, good eating on the road today. I unexpectedly hear myself say “Ok…I’ll have that.” When it unexpectedly comes with fries, I eat those too.
As we cross through the tollbooth to the Chicago Skyway, I am struck by the fact that three other people, my beautiful band mates, have decided to trust me enough that they, too, have made sacrifices to tackle this adventure together. We are facing West and there are many unknowns. The weight of leading this wonderful group of peers hits me like a brick, and I experience a sensation which I have not felt since I was about 10 years old. I had gone to a slumber party at a new friend’s house and something spooked me when everyone else had fallen asleep. I was the only one left awake. I had to go home right then, or be consumed in my fears. I woke my friend, and we got her dad up to drive me home in what felt like the middle of the night. That moment and those fears just came back after all this time – fresh and raw.
Looking around right now, I am thankful that I am surrounded by (awake) people, whom I trust so very much – and adore and respect. We are too far to turn back now, literally and figuratively, and I know that whatever the tour calls for, we will rise to the occasion! Sometimes there truly is only one way to go, and it’s forward.
The sun is setting beautifully over the Midwest farmland and we are about to put another state behind us in this grueling ‘drive day’. Erik turns on a band rehearsal version of (Indiana girl) Galia Arad’s song, “Hearts in the Heartland” as we cross from Ohio into Indiana. We start jamming and I’m trying to get a good shot of the sunset with my phone. Dylan (also a proud Indiana-an) is driving and jumping up and down in his seat (only half-joking) with one exclamation after another about how everything turns to gold the minute you cross the border into his home state of Indiana. (“See…look, even the sunset is more gorgeous here!”) . . .
to be continued
Until next time,
Love, Peace & Chicken Grease
photos: courtesy of artist