You are on tour in a school bus with about 30 other people. Today, you are in Athens, GA. You ride a borrowed bicycle around town and you remember that the person from whom you borrowed the bicycle once had his knee shattered in a bike accident. So, you also remember to stop at all the red lights. You wonder if its okay to make jokes about his accident. You ride past a bar and hear a song that you recognize drifting through the open doors. The song is “Hey Jealousy” by the Gin Blossoms. You realize that just as the song once felt intensely meaningful and now seems silly and archaic, your feelings of jealousy that your tourmates are getting what they want, or just feeling more strongly about what they want, will soon feel silly and archaic. You come back from your ride sweaty and with your muscles a little sore and you realize that even though you often feel exhausted, carrying a few amps or crates and playing for 30 minutes does not amount to a whole lot of physical activity. You see friends from all over and this makes you feel a little crazy. You watch one of your favorite bands play their last show and you sing along so forcefully that you wake up the next morning with a sore throat. You wonder what it feels like to do something for the last time. After the show, your friend tells you that this is the first time his divorced parents have been in the same place in years. Even though this has nothing to do with you, it makes you feel better. You do not get to go to Boneshakers Version 2.0, Athens’ premier queer dance club, but you do get to go swimming at a pool at an apartment complex. At one point you float on your back and narrow your field of vision so as to block out the streetlights and power lines so all you can see are the stars and for a few seconds you are alone with the night. You walk back to where you are staying and hang out outside a 24-hour doughnut store. You fall asleep on your friend’s floor, knowing that you will have to wake up again in 4 hours and get on a school bus. You are on tour.