story time
the story goes something like this: LFT had just finished a set at New Brookland Tavern in West Columbia, SC. I felt fine, exhausted and hungry as usual, but not any different from any other night. So I went out back to the smoking area to talk to some friends from the area, one of which bought me a beer. Before I finish my beer I feel my insides cave in, knowing my physical exhaustion limitations I excuse myself and try to find a place to sit down. The feeling doesn’t really go away. It just intensifies and I see Corey from across the room, at this point I’m guessing my face was paler than the moon, he looks worried. So right before I pass out I stumble over to the bathroom behind where he’s putting up his drums. I told him before I close the door, “watch the door, not sure if I’m going to throw up, shit, pass out or die in here.” Then I proceeded to pass out three times, landing face first on the door after closing the bastard, banging up my knee and foot some how, and bruising my jaw pretty badly. Moral of the story: steal more food, you can only play shows on empty for so many days.
CRH
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