Mom’s driving my car, and it’s not happy. It hadn’t previously shown any signs of having a problem, buti it’s been slipping out of gear ever since we packed it. I don’t think it likes the weight. Thus, we’re doing thirty-five down the freeway. Unpleasant. We get into our hotel at an ungodly hour, and get up at something even more ungodly.

I went to a concert at the Polaris once before when I was younger. It’s kind of a cool-looking place. We get our area assignment– really near the stage. There are flowers behind us! This is good.

The people here are soooo much more polite than Detroit and Pittsburgh. Its starts raining a little bit, and as I frantically secure all paper products, customers huddle under our tarp. No one wants to touch my tits.

WE HAVE ELECTRICITY! Never mind that my mom had do dive into a flower bed to discover it– we can use the blow dryers today! Zimra’s with us today. I like her, and she’s far more enthusiastic than any of us are today– we’re too tired. This crowd wants slightly different things than all the previous ones. More people know what henna is, and we’re getting far more requests for traditional designs. Fewer people than usual are acting stupid with me, and I’m having a good day, despite impending car problems.

I push henna, and soon the cool part of my day arrives. Let me tell you about Rhiane. She’s Canadian, and she’s a tour promoter of some sort. Pushing thirty, she dresses like a teenager, and has many, many
tattoos. She is thin and blond and so incredibly nice it makes her seem almost condescending. We did some free henna on her in Detroit, and she now loves us. She has as much security clearance as a human being can on this tour. I mention a band I’d like to meet, and she smiles and tells me this is no problem. Would I also like to sit on stage and watch them play for a while? Cool! In the early afternoon, she kidnaps me from the booth. Riding on a golf cart through the mess of tour buses, I feel very cool. I meet Linkin Park and get my CD signed. They remind me of the boys with whom I was on the debate team in high school. I grin. Later, I get to meet Dave Draiman, the singer from Disturbed. In videos and such, he is a force to be reckoned with. In person, he is cuddly and adorable. Seriously! This guy isn’t all that much taller than I am. I’m having to resist an incredible urge to poke him in the belly. I ask him to autograph a magazine I have in which he was interviewed, and he’s very nice and smiley about it. He’s not talking much, though. I figure he’s trying to preserve his voice. What an incredibly nice guy!