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Today is May 7, 1996, one day after my 25th birthday. My 25th birthday was spent in the following fashion: woke up in Farmington, Maine, at 7:30 AM EST, drove to the Portland International Jetway (there are no airports in Maine, only Jetways, thank you very much), flew to Pittsburgh, said goodbye to Frank Briggs via the USAir in-airport message center (Briggs was headed straight for LA at that point, and somewhere during the stopover in beautiful Pittsburgh International Airport, I lost him, as well as the chance to say goodbye for the tour. Not like I was tired or anything...), flew to Seattle with Keneally, picked up our gear at a friend's place (where we had stowed it for the duration of our one-stop, one-day tour of Maine), drove down I-5 South until I couldn't see, and finally crashed at a Motel 6 in Springfield, Oregon. Happy birthday to me.

You probably think I'm being sarcastic, but nothing could be further from the truth--it was the happy, tired birthday of a very satisfied 25-year-old me that was "celebrated" that day. Satisfied because, as I sit here typing to you from Michael Harrison's Powerbook in Michael Harrison's apartment in Oakland (one day, you will all know just how much of himself he gave to us on this tour and not be frightened of him at the same time...it took me about a week not to be scared of his incredible generosity), I can honestly say that the hell of March paid off in spades for a heavenly April. What I'm trying to stutter out here is that the tour was a MASSIVELY HUGE FUCKING SUCCESS against odds that would make the lottery seem like tic-tac-toe. Aside from all of the behind-the-scenes madness that I now know to be prerequisite for making a tour work, this tour's success or failure was really only going to be defined in one way...will anybody come to see us play? Are there people out there familiar with the material? Will the people who don't know the lyrics to "Day Of The Cow 2" be scared of us and run away? The shows answered all of our questions in a loud, obnoxious yes voice. All of you who came cannot be properly thanked by me in this pithy little column. Because of you, it will happen again. Maybe in a different van next time.

Those of you who've read Act 11 know that I've decided against a rote, chronological telling of the story. Those of you who've read any of the previous Acts are very grateful for this, I'm sure. I've dedicated a bit of time while on the West Coast to compiling some of the more memorable quotes of the BFD "Thanks, Toss" tour, as well as the typical "Best/Worst of" type stuff. Hopefully, through these random thoughts, you'll get a bit of a taste of what it was like out there...Mike Keneally, Bryan Beller, Frank Briggs, Michael Harrison and Rich Lewis, against the life of low budget touring. Round 1...The Most Memorable Quotes Of The Tour...

"I'm really impressed with your qualities as a bandleader. I love the way you've conned these guys into playing your music."
---Henry Kaiser, ever the clever guy, to Keneally

"Don't make me come over the fuckin' baah!"
---Screamed by a bartenderess to a male buddy of hers in Nashua, NH. She liked him, apparently.

"You fuckin' guys did it again!"
---The same bartenderess with the same accent, voicing her displeasure with Keneally's choices on the jukebox, the first being the Allman Brothers' 34-minute "Mountain Jam", the second being Phish's 10-minute "Demand". During the second song, she figured out that we were being overly economical about using their fine music machine. She liked us, apparently.

"Are we packing intelligently?"
---me, in a fit of anal-retentive van-packing madness, for which I was properly castigated.

"You should hear you guys."
---Frank Briggs, referring to Keneally and I screwing around in a soundcheck and bursting out loud in laughter for no apparent reason...at least to him.

"So, what's the deal with your nut?"
---Kevin Hoover, our Arcata liaison, to me. I declined comment then, and do so now.

"Packwood...could there be a more perfect name?"
---Michael Harrison, as we entered the state of Oregon.

"I don't know...have you ever had a chick in the band? I don't dig that at all...they're moody little things."
---Frank Briggs, on female bandmates. There must be a genuine disclaimer here...Frank detailed several real-life situations in which he was involved where irrational behavior by a female bandmate caused him professional distress. Nevertheless, these comments earned him the nickname "Old School Frank Briggs", which didn't please him much.

"They have to mutate it somehow."
---Renee Cunningham, on what special procedures government sponsored marijuana must go through to be legally grown.

"Bryan's from New Jersey."
---Rich Lewis, the king of marijuana-induced non sequiturs, responding to the above quote about pot growing. Let me know if you can figure out the connection.

"Oh no."
---Buckethead, shaking his head and muttering softly after smashing his favorite new guitar to bits at The Great American Music Hall in San Francisco.

"I must confess...this is a most interesting place."
---Juha Romppanen, a Finnish journalist in town (Oakland) to interview Keneally, on the storefront loft/apartment of Michael Harrison, where we stayed for several days. Juha was to stay there for one night.

"I like to see people."
---Keneally, barely awake enough to mutter this response to Juha's question about how and how often he practices guitar.

"What's the chance of me gettin' a bootleg of tonight's show?"
---a fan in Arcata, CA

"All of these gorgeous streams are really starting to piss me off."
---me, unknowingly Beavis-like, commenting on the beautiful scenery of Rt. 199 in Northern California.

"Where's Frank?"
---everyone, at some point or another, said these words. First, in Burlington, VT for two hours, then in Arcata for an hour, and lots of places in between, Mr. Briggs liked to go for slow walks by himself, sometimes causing logistical confusion among our road manager-less touring outfit. It became a rallying cry after a while.

"I'm going to eat. It'll probably be at Denny's. Then I'll come back to the hotel and take a shower. It's 3:30. See you assholes later."
---Frank Briggs, after we did laundry without waiting for him in Seattle. It was funny.

"Next tour...beepers."
---Keneally

"I look like I've been shot at and missed and shit at and hit."
---Roy Cunningham, our Portland, OR friend. He didn't look that bad.

"I wish Timothy McVeigh would drive a van full of shit into that place."
---Rob Samler, former editor of FZ fanzine Society Pages and invaluable Seattle/Vancouver ally, on the state of the Seattle Kingdome and the tax dollars that support it.

"KNACK!!!"
---a fan yelled this during the San Fran show. You had to be there.

"Is that the guy who 'no eyes' burnt his house down?"
---Keneally, confusing Chicago Bulls star Dennis Rodman with NFL wide receiver Andre Rison, whose girlfriend Lisa Lopes, aka "Left Eye" from the pop group TLC, did indeed burn his house down. Maybe "Old School Frank Briggs" had a point after all.

"That's right...beg for those pickups!"
---Doug Marhoffer of EMG pickups, to me, as I was crawling over to him in mock shame and dismay over my "corporate cock" comment in Act 10. He eventually beat me in our pool rematch. I wish I could claim to have let him.

"You think I am enough of myself already fucking!"
---Josif, a Russian filmmaker/friend of Michael Harrison's, trying to defend himself from the teasing of a colleague.

"Do I need my wallet for anything? Hold on..."
---Frank Briggs, chasing a skycap who had just walked off with our checked luggage.

"AAAAGH! Everything falls on me!"
---Keneally, in a fit of present tense, speaking of sitting in the back of Michael Harrison's van and having some luggage fall on his head.

"Man...I hate you."
---Frank Briggs, to Keneally after he had just attempted to start a song with about a half-second warning and ended up starting without a drummer. This was, of course, Frank's way of saying that he in fact loved our bandleader for being so quick and alert.

"I haven't really gotten the pop music format down yet."
---Keneally
"Yeah--you should leave that stuff to the people who are good at it."
---Nathan Kaplan, of KXGO, Eureka, CA

And, finally, from the coolest stagehand in the world, a guy named Stick, from Vancouver:
"You guys are fucked."

Yeah, you could say that.

Now, as if that wasn't enough, here are some high school yearbook-style superlatives for the tour. These opinions are solely mine and are not the opinions of Keneally, Moosenet, Inc., or anyone else but me. OK? OK. The Best Of, Worst Of, and Strangest Of The Tour....

Best Soundman---Serge, of Club Metronome, Burlington, VT.

Worst Sound/Load-in---Red Square North, Nashua, NH. Four bands played this night, and all loaded in at once, and none got a real soundcheck, just a line check before their sets. Have you ever seen four bands' gear all next to each other on a floor? It looks stupid. Before I get into a pointless rant, let me be diplomatic and say that the contact guy there was cool and we'd play there again if they want us. Yeah, I'm selling out. Oh well.

Best Restaurant---a tie, between The Four Corners Grille in New London, NH, and The Brass Rail in Redway, CA. The former is the perfect New England eatery, the latter the most ridiculously good tasting steak house and meat place in general.

Worst Restaurant---Friendly's, Nashua, NH. Hey, we did have a good time in Nashua, don't get me wrong.

Worst Public Restroom---Salem, OR. You don't want to know.

Best Public Restroom---Exxon Mini-Mart in Pollard Flat, CA (off of I-5). As I was about to walk into the men's room, Keneally, who'd already been inside, smiled heartily at me. I found out why when I walked inside and saw a sexy-dressed female mannequin with one hand missing laying down in a large bathtub and holding a plunger.
Then, when I walked back out, I noticed an autographed publicity shot of the band Great White tacked to the wooden walls of the restaurant section of the building. Totally bizarre.

(Photos graciously provided by Christian Heilman of Dunsmuir, CA, Webmaster of the Mount Shasta Home Page. Sez Chris, "Thanks for the hours of entertainment and here's my little contribution to the fray.")

Most Dangerous Rollerblading---Oakland, CA. You don't realize how steep some of these hills are until you're flying down them at 30 m.p.h. and hoping you don't hit a pebble.

Best Rollerblading---Arcata, CA. Long, flat, scenic roads.

Most Discourteous Hotel Staff---The Mallory, Portland, OR. After asking a man at the front desk for directions to a local bar, he fumbled around with about 50 maps for over five minutes. When I asked someone else how to get there, the hotel worker threw the maps down and said to me, "Fuck you." Frank Briggs was also asked to leave the hotel restaurant for not removing his billed cap.

Best Bar---The Branding Iron, Garberville, CA. If Garberville was the most hedonistic stop of the tour, this was where we spent most of our time acting that way. Turns out that the bartenderess (remember, Garberville is in the boonies of Northern California) designs web pages for a living. The internet is scary like that.

Strangest Hotel Check-In---Ramada Inn, Seattle, WA. In the suburbs of Seattle, we pulled into this hotel that had scaffolding all around it. The "under construction" status caused us to walk around the parking lot endlessly looking for a way to get upstairs. While doing so, we noticed an unusual amount of pretty young women at the hotel. Turns out that there was a "model search" going on, and lots of pretty young women were strutting around the parking lot of this beat up Ramada Inn waiting for their chance at glory. They were curious with us and our long hair. When we got near a girl and her mom who were also trying to find a way upstairs, I quipped, "I think that they're going to make the models climb the scaffolding tonight." The mother looked at me and said, "WHAT?" "Nothing", I replied. It got even weirder, but you know about me and long stories.

Most Bass Players At One Gig---The Backstage, Seattle, WA. We were opening up for a band with Michael Manring in it. Thankfully I played well this night, but it wasn't until about 45 minutes into our hour-long set that I realized that a lot of people were looking right at me...like over half of the room. I never wanted to be a guitarist---now I know why.

Nicest Drive---Rt.199, from Crescent City, CA to Grants Pass, OR.

Worst Drive---I-84, from Sturbridge, MA to Brewster, CT. Anyone who's driven from Boston to New York can attest to the never-ending lameness of this road. And Connecticut tickets are the most expensive in the U.S.

Best Airport---Pittsburgh International.

Worst Name For An Airport Eating Establishment---Steak Escape. Keneally renamed it "Meat Vacation".

Best Pool Player---Melody Horn, Portland, OR. I got to play a couple of games with Ms. Horn, formerly ranked in the top five female professional pool players in the U.S. during the 70's. It was like getting to sit in with your favorite band. I even beat her once. I think she let me.

Best Chess Player---Adam Metcalf, Farmington, ME. Chess is a humbling game when confronted by an obviously superior opponent. I didn't win much of anything on this tour, now that I think about it.

Best Demo Tape---Firepig, "Expert Mechanic On Duty". This Boston based band (with a couple of Berklee alums in it) was by far the cream of the crop. Mr. Bungle-ish, but definitely unique...and with one of the most truly subversive people I've ever seen perform, Al Natanagara, on lyrics and vocals. Their website address is, strangely enough, www.firepig.com. Can't recommend them highly enough.

Nicest Act By A Total Stranger---Inga Wohlgemuth, Farmington, ME. After our show on May 5 at the University Of Maine, we ended up hanging out with some of the undergrads who helped organize the show. When Inga (or Miss Kiki, as she sometimes goes by) found out that my b day was the following day, she led an effort to buy the ingredients for and bake a cake for me to be presented to me at midnight, May 6. At midnight, the lights went out and 20 total strangers (plus Keneally) sang "Happy Birthday" as I looked around, wondering why everyone was looking at me. I was genuinely moved. Thank you, Miss Kiki.

Most Bizarre Opening Act---The Hip-Hop Body Mechanics, again, Farmington, Maine. About 12 college girls got up in front of everyone and pretended to be the Laker Girls to a really poorly mixed dance tape. That takes real balls, but the effect after having flown in the day before and seeing this "dance troupe" was mostly surreal.

Best Hotel---Robert and Laura Beller's House, Westfield, NJ. Felt just like home.

Most Embarrassing Moment---Maybe if you get Keneally drunk enough, he'll tell you. I tend to doubt it.

And now, for the serious awards...

Nicest City---a tie, depending on what you're looking for. For a real urbane, professional, yet civilized feel, Portland, OR. The cleanest, safest, coolest big city I've ever seen. For a more "large small town", cute, rustic, yet hip vibe, Burlington, VT. Under the right life circumstances, I could live in either place, weather be damned.

Most Tired Show---Palookaville, Santa Cruz, CA. We were just whipped from the end of the East Coast stuff, and our first West Coast gig showed it. We made up for it the next night in San Fran.

Most Wired Show---The Commodore Ballroon, Vancouver, BC. A very large venue (over 1500 people) filled with a willing audience, combined with many drinks for both me and Mr. K, made for a night onstage that felt like an adrenaline high all the way through. Briggs was right there with us. This also qualifies for largest crowd, even though most were there for the MusicWest festival...like we cared why they were there.

Best Venue---A tie, between the above mentioned Commodore in Vancouver (whose plentiful staff contained the most helpful stagehand in history, Stick), and the Berklee Performance Center in Boston, MA, a pro, great sounding venue with great backstage accommodations. The Commodore apparently has a built-in crowd of over 1,000. Try getting that to happen in the U.S. Berklee's crowd of students really got the idea of what we were all about. Two places every band should get to play.

Best Crowd---The Bottom Line, New York City, NY. Two shows of almost 300 people each, both filled with genuinely appreciative fans of Zappa and Keneally alike. Anyone who was there saw something really special (two BFD sets, as well as two sets by the Ed Palermo Big Band, a great Zappa cover band, with Keneally sitting in) and reacted in a way we'll never forget.

Best Played Gig---The Great American Music Hall, San Francisco, CA. BFD put it all together this night, wanting to avenge a subpar performance the previous night in Santa Cruz. It happened in front of almost 300 really cool fans and industry people alike, and really signalled Frank Briggs' coming of age--we played 85 minutes, almost everything we knew, and had a great time while knocking the crowd on their asses. The way it should always be. A special note should be made about this show...it was put together at the sacrifice of someone who wants to remain nameless and was subsequently shown how some of the not-so-nice elements of the music business work for his troubles. Before long, Everyone from Henry Kaiser to Keyser Soze to Michael Corleone and back were somehow in the mess together. Anyway, you know who you are...thank you for one of the best shows of the tour.

We would have been lost in these places without the following people:

New England: Jon Finn
Burlington, VT: Mike Tromblay
Asbury Park, NJ: Joe D'Andrea
San Francisco, CA: Michael Harrison and Henry Kaiser
Arcata, CA: Kevin Hoover
Portland, OR: Roy Cunningham
Seattle, WA: Rob Samler
Vancouver, BC: Rich Lewis and Tracy Zuber
Farmington, ME: Mike Gaito

The tour would not have happened without these people: Robert and Laura Beller, Jon and Beth Finn, Rich Lewis, Michael Harrison, Keith Winston of Rivera, Doug Marhoffer of EMG, Jimmy Dunlop, Rick Carlson of SWR, Noble and Cooley Drums...this is getting stupidly long, as usual, but let me just say two more thank yous...first, to Frank Briggs. If he doesn't drop his whole life to learn our set in three weeks, we don't have even close to a tour. Those of you who heard him can appreciate how hard he worked...and I have a feeling that he'll be sticking around for a while. Thanks, Old School. Secondly, to you freaks out there who read the page...this page in particular. I can't wait to read all of the e-mail when I get...uh, wait a minute...let me rephrase that...oh, fuck. If I'm not my usual prompt e-mail self right away, it's only because I skipped town for a bit. Hey, I need a couple of days off. Don't worry, I won't forget about you.

Frank Briggs and Rich Lewis are already home. Harrison's down the street at a friend's place, having totally surrendered his storefront loft to us for the night. Keneally's upstairs snoring like a motherfucker upstairs in the loft. If I knew what to say to him about all of this, I would. Other than looks of disbelief as we say "we did it" to each other, it's hard to put into words. Maybe "we did it" is enough for now.

Can't wait to do it again...next time with a laptop. This thing is fucking cool! Anyway, tomorrow we leave for LA. The I-5 awaits us, and the Life Of Bryan odometer clicks 25 years and two days.............B.B.