This journey begins with a Honda Accord and ukulele, and ends with... a Honda Accord and ukulele!
And so begins the story of Jacksonstalk '09.
The problem with going to Vancouver is that, once you cross the border, everyone is suspect. Every person that passes could be...
a vampire.
But most of them aren't.
Most of them are junkies.
Just a fortnight ago, Sydney and I, on official blog business, headed into Canada to see the 100 Monkeys, and to revel being in the exact same city as some of our favorite vampires. It became clear after our first leisurely jaunt through Gastown that Robert Pattinson probably wasn't hiding under a giant wig, or buying a veggie dog at the hot dog stand (or working the hot dog stand), or riding a shopping cart. And the quiet, uninhabited bar that we stopped at before the show was apparently the wrong one, because Jackson Rathbone and bandmates were nowhere to be seen.
Enter Edward: The stalker's stalker
Edward was totally pissed that our stalkees would desert us like that! But he was considerate enough to join us for one...
...or two drinks.
Edward also offered some great advice (he could tell we were novices). Unfortunately we neither of us possessed the ability to pick up their scent or hear their voices from great distances. Instead, we took our liquid courage and powered through six blocks of zombies to find the line of addicts that we belonged to.
And we wait...
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