The Plan: Ride bikes to Green for dinner then to Crescent Ballroom to see Cass McCombs.
We order the tofu jerk salad and Thai peanut bowl and proceed to scarf our dinner. Literally. We are in and out of a busy sit-down restaurant in 20 minutes. Why? Maybe we are pigs?
Before our food has even had time to digest, we hop on our bikes and scurry over to Crescent.
I’m pretty sure the whole wait-20-minutes-after-eating-before-getting-back-in-the-pool saying applies to bike riding as well because 10 minutes into the show, I feel a punch to my gut.
Then the pressure starts to build and I feel like I’m gonna have a heart attack.
Luckily I’m not alone on this one. I look over and see James grimacing against his own BBGs (aka bubble guts).
We try to stick it out with the help of a little bitters and soda water. But as it turns out, seeing Cass McCombs live is even more painful than our bellowing bellies.
The Outcome: We leave after the third song and pray for even the smallest burp or fart to relieve our imploding gas.