THIS MAY NOT BE A TEST. DON'T TEST US.

Here's a little bit of what can happen at the Vancouver International Airport:

Get drunk on two gigantic glasses of Stella within 45 minutes at the Milestone's. Proceed to go outside, find a corner and smoke a joint followed by a quick cigarette to mask the smell of weed. Then you quickly go to the washroom before heading through the security check at Gate C. When taking off your belt to put in the scanner tray (because you know it will go off when you walk through the detector) be careful not to drop your new belt clip watch under the inspector's desk. This will have the security people looking at you funny to begin with. Of course, that could be the rapidly red eyes too. Once you've got on all fours to pick up the watch, be sure you also have the back of it that fell off too, this way you won't have to ask someone to get it for you after the scenario described below.

Once your pockets are emtpy you can go through the detectors easy enough and then be pulled over to empty your entire bag because you "... have a pen knife in your bag." Drunk, stoned or just plain sober this has got to make you laugh out loud. Now, when the security person is going through your bag you may not want to give them a hand for they will tell you they can handle their jobs. Once everything is out and no knife has been found you may start to get a bit testy as your running late your flight; you had to get that beer and weed in you. Then, they may bring in a new person to look through your stuff.

At this point it may not be a good idea to tell the security person that you even shaved that day so you wouldn't look like a terrorist. The agent will tell you it's not a great idea to even say that word in an airport; she may as well have added, "... when you're drunk and high." Then, feel free to say, "I don't really care; I'll go anywhere they want to take me" or something to that affect. After another run of your loose items through the scanner they will allow you go as the "knife" must have been something else, such as an extra toothbrush head for your new electronic toothbrush.

Now you hurriedly repack your entire bag and hear a page for you stating, "This is the last call for [you]. Please proceed immediately to gate C42." You walk briskly just imagining what everyone will be thinking as you walk on the plane smelling of beer and what not. Even the man taking tickets at the plane door will make a crack (smiling) about finishing that last beer at the bar; he's obviously been there. As you walk on the fully boarded plane you will likely bump nearly every passenger up to your row 16 with your large bag as you pass them. You have to focus and pretend none of it happened; so don't bother saying sorry, it would take too long. Then, you may have your headphone wires caught up in your bag and start muttering, "Unbelievable."

However, it was all too real.

But, then, you get to share a cab home with a tall attractive blonde girl that just started outside sales with McCain's, they of the ultra Canadian lame ass television commercials. Of course, you don't have any cards on you so you tell her to be at the Stars concert February 4 if she likes to have fun. She exits the cab and you have a sneaking suspicion you will never see her again. But, you never know, because she keeps in touch with decent music through her brother.

AND THE BEAT GOES ON, AND ON AND ON.

Good ol' USA does it again. Swarchznegger's a dick, and so are all his supporters. And all supporters of the death penalty. There was a time when I was for the death penalty. That was before reason and sanity made it into my head. What has Tookie Williams' murder accomplished? Will there never be another convenience store killing in the US now? Right. I bet one just happened right now.

Stanley Tookie Williams

Yet another (likely innocent) black man dead at the hands of a bunch of overfed and overpaid asshole Americans. And one asshole Austrian who could have stopped it all.

CHURCH FOR THE ALMIGHTY GOOD.

So Friday I got off work a bit late (because I started late) and was a bit rushed.

On the way home I called the locals and bought some grass behind the coffee shop. Then at home I spent an hour and a half on the phone shoring up the routing for work. Needless to say, I couldn't get my nap in. In any case, I got cleaned up, blazed, and had a beer before going out taking a cab to The Warehouse to rock with Clutch.

I had an extra ticket and the guys in front of me just bought one off a guy so I figured I'd have to burn it. Then another guy came down the line looking for one. He looked at my ticket and said it's a receipt. I took the ticket back and then he handed over the $25 for it; a slight deal so he was stoked. I asked if his twenty was real.

After checking my coat I went and got the usual starter for this type of night, a double Jack Daniels in a tall glass with a lot of ice. Not only can you smoke in bars here still, they free pour shots. That becomes some wild stuff.

I walked around and finished the first drink quite quickly. Then I checked the merchandise table and bought a black Clutch toque. A guy pointed out a long sleeved t-shirt with the Calgary date labeled "Calgary, BC". Seeing as this was my first ever show in Calgary that was an obvious purchase later in the night.

After another drink William Elliott Whitmore opened up. It was a pretty late start and he only played three or four songs. Pretty good bluesy/country/rock for one person.

Again, get a drink, this time downstairs. The Warehouse has two levels and I think if you're from upstairs you can go down for free and use the bar and washrooms. The upstairs probably holds around 200-300 people, maybe up to 500. Pretty small for Clutch so the energy was definitely building.

I think some time around 10:30 or so Clutch quietly took the stage to the ecstacy of all. I won't even try to tell you the set list; all I know is that they rock harder than any live act I have ever seen.

Upon the first notes I lit up a joint and sucked it back like Coca-Cola (I'll likely refer to Seinfeld the rest of my life). I then downed the rest of the drink and proceeded to rock with the crowd near the back. Though I didn't hear too many people singing along as I was, the people I'd talked to before the show and later all seemed to be pretty die hard fans. The pit looked good and it was beckoning. After nearly 1.5 hours the band said they'll be back in 15 minutes.

I rushed downstairs to hit the slower washrooms and saw none other than Tim Sult heading to the backstage (you have to go downstairs from behind the stage if you're the band). I told Tim that that was fucking awesome and thanked him. He said thanks and went to join the rest of the band. Every time I see him, live or in a picture, he looks more and more like Ron Jeremy.

I did my business and went back upstairs to walk around before the second set. Near the front to the right side of the stage I saw someone that looked familiar. It was a dude that works at a funky looking diner, Diner Deluxe, that sells HP. We chatted for a while and then the band came back on. At this point I became lost, but really was just starting to find my way. For the second set Clutch came to kick it even harder. And kick it even harder they did.

Early on in the 2nd set came Pure Rock Fury, and that settled it. I was in that pit like a bat out of hell and in to purgatory. I threw people around, I was thrown around, and all the while Neil Fallon preached like only a man with a voice like his can. After the song, drenched in sweat, I had to head over to the side as I am older now. Not to worry though for a few songs later, just as I was about to light my sixth cigarette of the night came the opening riffs of The Soapmakers.

Again, needless to say, I was aurilly (if that's not already a word, I just made it one so live with it) pulled back into the pit with excessive non-force. This time I went even wilder and threw myself to center stage. At some point during this song I went down hard to the floor, flat on my back. Before I couldn't even comprehend what had just happened I had six hands, three bodies, pulling me up. This, you see, is the legion of Clutch. It doesn't matter what you look like, what you smell like, or what clothes you wear; if you're there, you are there for the music and it's a bond that encases all.

This was my second time seeing Clutch and I've never felt a communal vibe at a show as strongly as I have at both of these. There's always going to be that energy and good feel at all small shows, but there's something about Clutch fans that seperates them from other fans. Though most won't like me stating it so brazenly, there's a love, and it's beautiful and gorgeous. You feel at home at a Clutch show.

Anyways, they played on and on till around 1:30 or so and left the stage very thankful to the crowd. It blew me, and others I talked to, away that they could play such a small venue, be so dead on musically, and thankful afterwards. The sound wasn't the best (Mick Schauer's keyboard was hard to hear at times and Tim's guitar would sometimes fade a bit) but it didn't stop the band from going off on several jams including J.P. Gasteur going off on some wicked drum solos. Dan Maine, as always, kept a steady funky groove going with the bass.

Right after they walked off stage I ran down to the can again and saw the entire band heading backstage. I managed to catch Neil's attention and told him I'd been a fan for about 5 or 6 years and finally seen them live for the first time this year. I thanked him for the show and then took him by a bit of surprise as I thanked him for the constant sharing of music over the years and he shook my hand and said thanks to me. And that concluded my evening with Clutch this December.

I went to church a few nights ago. A church that is full of love and good times, unlike the church of hate mongering and pedophilia that most North Americans subscribe to. I came out blessed and much holier than thou. You can do it too.

I can't stress enough how important it is that any of you who haven't given Clutch a chance do so (Hold Steady, I know you'd have been there if I was in Vancouver still). It will not only open you up to a new world of guitar driven music with funky timing and insane lyrics, it will make you feel less like an outcast and more sane. Do it.

Rock on. For the hope and future of the world with human beings in it, we must rock on.

CLUTCH - Calgary, December 9 at The Warehouse.

Pretty much, enough said. I think this captures my entire evening. Maybe more details to come after some sleep and a day of work tomorrow.

I ONCE HEARD SOMEONE SAY EVERYDAY IS A JOB.

But is it really a job when you get this out your front door, as they do in Banff?