What a riot. The first week of several with some pretty metal costumes. Tons of honks, cameras recording, even catcalls and wolf whistles (including by the wife/roadie/mobile AC station). It got a big snug as the sweat rolled along, but the big disaster was the makeup. I took a chance on using the last of some older white stick. By the stretches at mile 2, I looked more like Swedish death metal than 70s glam rock. If this one comes back, and I hope it can, I’ll have to workshop how to keep my face from literally melting… except from killer riffs.
