Another tour.
Professionally, tour is all I know. As soon as I finished college, I packed my horns and stepped onto a bus. Ten years later, I’m still on that bus. It’s not as smelly now. It’s a different band. I’m playing different music with different people. The money’s better. But the life and the culture remain the same.
The days leading up to the first day of tour can be tough. Those of us with families draw out our goodbyes, culminating in the final send-off at the motor pool. But once the buses pull out, it immediately gets a little better. We’re pros, and we’re at work.
Sleeping in a different place every night, we of the Road Culture all have our ways of making ourselves feel comfortable. Not at home, maybe, but at ease. One guy, every hotel room he moves into, he moves into like he’ll be there for months, unpacking completely. Another guy hates traveling heavy, and routinely brings only two or three changes of clothes in a flimsy backpack, washing them by hand every couple of nights. Another guy wants the bed nearest the bathroom every night, that’s it. Some of us go out at night, some of us stay in. But most of us have a routine.
As for me, I hate clutter. Even when my own house gets cluttered, it bugs me. But what REALLY bugs me is a hotel room that’s cluttered with useless crap that I won’t need, touch, or look at for the duration of my stay. To remedy these annoyances, I have a moving-in ritual.
The coffee maker and alarm clock get unplugged and stowed over the tiny closet near the door.
After removing the disposable cups and plastic bag, the ice bucket, and the cafeteria tray it sits on, join the coffee maker.
Most of the remaining space up there is filled by the four extra pillows from my bed, including the weird cylindrical one.
The greasy TV remote goes into the ice bucket’s plastic bag. Then it, the sticky channel guide it sat on, and the complimentary pen and notepad go into the nightstand drawer, along with the only two items in the room that were already hidden: a local yellow pages and a Gideon Bible. “Those damned Gideons.”
Every flat surface is littered with little pieces of glossy card stock, all of them with information that might be helpful if they weren’t in every hotel room in America. As I read each one, it goes on top of the 2-inch binder that reads GUEST DIRECTORY, to be stowed over the closet with the rest of the detritus:
YOUR ROOM HAS BEEN SERVICED BY: [illegible].
ENJOY OUR HIGH-SPEED INTERNET.
HELP US SAVE THE ENVIRONMENT. We are committed to making a difference. If you want your linens changed, simply leave this card on your pillow.
FORGET SOMETHING? Contact the front desk if you need any of these complimentary items: toothbrush, toothpaste, mouthwash, comb, razor, shaving cream
ROOM SERVICE? Just check the items you want on this card and leave it on your door before 7 AM.
PRIORITY CLUB REWARDS- Earn double points or double miles starting with your 2nd stay!
A TOWEL ON THE RACK MEANS: I will use again. A TOWEL ON THE FLOOR MEANS: Please replace.
RATED #1 IN JD POWERS 2011 STUDY OF MID-SCALE HOTELS WITH LIMITED SERVICE
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When the room is clear of junk, it has a clean look to it, and looks much like nearly every other hotel room on tour. My suitcase goes in pretty much the same corner everyday, and I plug my computer into the same outlet on the same wall. It gives an illusion of constancy. It’s definitely not home… but it’s good enough for tour.