After 9 central time. O'Hare airport.
Watching 75 people go ape-shit over your band is pretty cool - until you realize they're all paid extras. Then it's sad. Overall, though, it's pretty funny. Also funny is the length we went to to painstakingly make sure no one sported any logos. I can't even have a fucking beaver on my hat, for chrissakes, lest Mr. Beaver Designer sees me on the the Big Tobacco enhanced CD and decides to sue. "Hey, what kind of bass is that? I mean, it looks like a Rickenbacker but there's tape on the headstock. I'm stumped." We kept it legal. Lizard's been the punchline of a joke all day among the people at Leo-Burnett, due to his rambling, 20 minute message last week pertaining to exactly what we need for this performance ("and a RED Telecaster" is actually the punchline). Good times. Retarded, bizarre, and slightly gay good times.
Sure do hate airports. Why is it the most unpleasant places are the ones we are told to get to early? Jerks. That's why.