Got up, loaded out, was planning on going to the Louisville Slugger Museum but decided against it due to “having exactly enough of Ryno” and quickly split. That fucker just knows how to get to the “end of the road” real fast with me. Fucker. Bite me. On up to Cincinnati, hauling ass, rolled through town in the snow, grabbed a hotel and got to work.

305. “Rolling through Cinti.”

It just so happened that those Portals were in town, destined to play The Comet bar in Northside. Theye were coming off a wild Akron show the night before, and, a triumphant East Coast tour, as well as a run across the dirty South, gunslingin’ Texas and sunny SoCal.

They met me on the edge of town and I guided them in to the club where we had a burrito and loaded in for the show.

306. “The Portals descend upon Cincinnati.”

It was good to catch up with those Portals. Chris Coyle is a king, as always. We go back to the summer of 1995, working the dregs together at the High Cascade Snowboard Camp up in Gov’t Camp. 12 goddamn years. He’s always been good to me, and, man, thanks for that. A good man. Forgash got some new spectacles and well, we’ll just say that he’s wearing them well. The honkytonkin’ Lana Rebel talked up her next project, tour and plans for the summer and I offered my services. So good. Hope I can help, lady. Please. Hire me. Eric the Man Mountain was as awesome as ever. A fellow “man of size,” we talked of the bands they played with up to that point, upcoming Portal albums plans and things only large men can understand.

307. “Portals: Northside.”
308. “Loading in.”
309. “Portal shred.”

The Portals shredded through a spirited set of seven songs, or so. The crowd dug ‘em and they enjoyed some festive applause once the amps were turned off.

310. “Portal Lana, bringing up the low end.”
311. “Eric and Forgash, axemen.”
312. “Some Coyle.”

It was good to see my Portland friends, in a foreign land, so far from home. I needed it, guys.

313. “Post show, Coyle enjoys a refreshing menthol.”
314. “Packing the van: A smiling Forgash.”
315. “Packed in with scientific precision.”

Good luck with the rest of the tour, you road warriors.

I shot back to my hotel, dropping a Cherry Coke off at a friend’s pad, and crashed out smelling like cigs, beer and Portal sweat.