It’s 7:45am and I’m rolling out of bed to close the window that’s been open all night, as I don’t want to turn the guys into popsicles first thing in the morning. It prompts a memory of when I was living with my dad back in highschool – he’d have multiple windows open at 5:30am, and my days always started out so cold. There are nicer ways to start the day!
I scurry down to the bathroom on the ground floor – we’re four people in this suite, there’s one bathroom, and the bathroom is off the guy’s bedroom. I’m thinking that since it’s before 8am, just like when it was after 1am, there’s not going to be anyone in the lobby bathroom. I’m correct! Is it an ideal setup for face washing and teeth brushing? Absolutely not, but it works and that’s what matters.
By 8:30am, wheels are up and we’re on our way. There’s some bad spots of traffic the closer we get to Cambridge, but on the whole it’s a relatively painless drive. Which, as the person asleep for most of it, is especially easy for me to say.
Even though we’re running late, we’re the first ones to arrive for soundcheck – while infrequent, those bad spots of traffic? They were bad. Everyone is running behind. We’re at Sonia tonight, and while there’s no grid available to hang shirts from, there’s also no problem tape can’t solve.
We arrive at the hotel and have this – and I say this with full sarcasm – delightful moment of reception not being able to find the shirt restock we’d ordered ahead to the hotel. On our end, it was showing as having been delivered that morning. They can’t find it. People are being called. Rooms are being entered and exited. That half-hearted peak under the counter to see if a big ol’ box of t-shirts has magically appeared there is performed.
In the same breath that I’m going “they can’t have lost our shirts, there’s no way,” I am starting to brace for the possibility that they have lost the restock. We’ll be out of Tower shirts – the bestseller – by New York (two days from now) at the latest if so. A shipping mishap with any restock wouldn’t be ideal, but it is especially … let’s say inpractical, if it is with this item.
When someone comes out of the back with a visible look of relief on their face, I can’t help the “oh thank god,” that slips out. Didn’t think there would be a time in my life where I’d be so excited to see shirts! I spend the time between soundcheck and the set folding them to make restocking easier tomorrow. Throw the sizes I need in a duffel bag to bring to the venue, and then it’s time to head back out!
Merch is dark, it isn’t the first time – and won’t be the last time – that I wish we had a portable light of some kind to help people see what’s on our table. It’s fine though, I have a phone with an almost full battery, and that acts as my flashlight for the night! No problems! The general dark, and my black phone case on black tablecloths isn’t an issue! That my phone is constantly in/out of my pocket, on the table, resting on the side of a bin, as opposed to securely in a pocket where it usually is definitely won’t bite me in the ass later.
Packing up merch was especially fun for me in Cambridge as it’s the least amount of time it has ever taken me to do so. Having everything snap into place, getting my process down? It feels good, I like getting into the flow and routine of it all. With the van all nicely packed up, the four of us head to an afterparty where the DJ plays Urban Heat’s cover of Goodbye Horses. It sounds incredible.
Before getting to experience that, however, I had the person at the front desk look me over when the band was coming in and go, “and [who is]… this person?” with a frankly impressive amount of derision when the guys deliver the message that we’re on the guest list. Looking back, it makes me laugh solely because of how apparently offended by my existence this lady appeared to be – the difference in the guys being greeted versus me was night and day. Even after they clarified I was with them, the raised eyebrow and “okay,” was just – frustrating?
If I’m being honest I don’t know if that frustration comes from the experience in that particular moment (I don’t think it does, I wasn’t frustrated at the time), or a host of similar experiences since that have left me taking a breath while going “this wouldn’t have happened if I was a man.” (Stockholm takes first prize for that one with a security guard’s “no groupies allowed,” remark to me, not minutes after a male member of the crew had been allowed in without comment.)
In better experiences, I got to meet someone from the This is the Place discord while at the afterparty! That was neat, especially as we’d just earlier that week asked members what channels they’d like to see/would use if available. At the time, the discord was a space for sober and sober-curious people, and while it still fulfills this function in a members-only area, it also serves as Urban Heat’s Street Team discord. If you ever want to get more involved, that’s the place to do it!
We weren’t at the afterparty all that long before heading back to the hotel. Stocked up on snacks from the lobby – a whole assortment of instant noodles, the dinner of champions over here – and I’m relieved to find an option without dairy. “Why would dairy be in instant noodles?” Jonathan asks. A reasonable question, one I myself would love an answer to.
It’s shortly after this, and around when Jonathan’s realised he’s put too much water in his noodles and effectively made soup, that I realise my phone is not with me. This is a great realisation to have at what? 1:30am? We call it, and I hear nothing. Now, my phone lives on vibrate, sure, but that vibrate is enough to wake me from a dead sleep. But… my phone was also on low battery due to having been a flashlight for hours earlier on in the night. The possibility that it’s dead does occur to me.
We head down to the car and search the backseat, and at this point realise Jonathan’s phone is upstairs so we can’t call mine to see if we hear, well, anything. We go back to get his phone, get more noodles – I’m apologizing at this point because it’s late as hell and if I was dealing with this on my own that’d be one thing, that would be fine, but it’s imposing on someone else and I’m struggling with that a bit. Unpack the van, search through the various boxes of merch, repack the van. My phone isn’t there.
It’s pointed out to me that me losing track of my phone wasn’t malicious so maybe I don’t need to be so hard on myself. I’m not sure if it’s the exhaustion, respect for the person the message is coming from, general agreement of “actually that makes sense, I accept this,” or some combination, but I stop feeling guilty.
We head back upstairs, eat our noodles and call an Uber to the venue. Jonathan asks if I can go on my own and I’m ready to jump in that car without a second thought before my brain kicks in and goes, “but if my phone isn’t there, how am I getting back?” We both head to the venue and it turns out it’s a good thing Jonathan came with me, as someones still working recognizes him from the performance and don’t you know! A phone was turned in!
When I tell you I felt the tension leaving my body! I didn’t think I was that stressed about it. If it was gone, it was gone and I’d need to get a replacement – getting a phone plan for my two remaining days in the US would have been a massive pain in the ass, but it’s what I would have needed to do, so would have done it. NOT needing to do that?? I hugged that man. I’m not generally a hugger – not with strangers anyways, but I hugged that guy.
It turns out Alejandro, with the Twin Tribes crew, had found it earlier in the night – if you followed the tour at all on social media, he’s the one who took the awesome photos you’ve seen. Thank you Alejandro!
Exhausted and one phone richer, we head back to the hotel, polish off the remaining snacks, and I go back to folding shirts in order to decompress. What a night!
Want to keep up with Urban Heat? Check them out on TikTok , find them on Instagram, or join the “This is the Place” discord!
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