We’ve been on the road all week, attending various professional tour date conferences throughout the country, such as the Symposium of Corporate Venue Naming Rights in Albany and the Gregorian vs. the Julian Calendar Numerical Seminar in Providence, and we are definitely glad to be back in our own offices so that we may give you the latest routing info on Pearl Jam, Ellen DeGeneres and Flickerstick.

Hard to believe, but there was a time when we looked forward to these business trips. However, when you’ve logged as many miles as we have, all this traveling on the company’s dime really becomes annoying after a while.

For example, we began our latest trip with the best intentions; sitting in our coach seat, going over the listings for Damian Jr. Gong Marley and The Burn on our laptop, while trying to ignore the violent tendencies that always overwhelm us whenever we’re crammed into one of those high-flying tin cans. Well, you know how it goes. It doesn’t take long before you’re whipping out the company credit card and upgrading your seat to first class so that you may enjoy a little leg room while you’re forced to dine on cracked crab, lobster or filet mignon. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

Then there’s the airport at the end of the flight. You’re stiff and sore from your trip, and all you want to do is go over the latest routings for Luciano Pavarotti and Foo Fighters. That’s when you discover that you’ve scuffed your best shoes during the flight. You experienced business travelers know how it goes. You just have to stop at the closest airport shoeshine / massage station. Meanwhile, your fellow passengers have grabbed all the waiting cabs, forcing you to flash the company credit card in order to catch the last luxury limo available. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

Then there’s the hotel room. Aren’t hotel suites a drag? After all, who needs a five-room hotel suite anyway? And what’s up with hotel TVs these days? All we wanted to do was relax and watch a little Fox News while we browsed the new additions for John Michael Montgomery and America, but we ended up with one of those funky TVs where the picture is scrambled until you give the hotel desk clerk your company’s credit card number. And what do you get in return? Hours of naked, writhing bodies performing shameful acts while doing disgusting things to each other, and try as you might, you just can’t turn it off. Don’t you hate it when that happens?

Yeah, business trips really suck, but what can one do? The tour date business is a ruthless industry, and one must do what one must in order to keep a leg up on the competition. Now we’re back in our office, it’s Friday morning and we’re all ready to show you the new schedules for Folk Implosion, Insane Clown Posse and Woggles. Furthermore… Furthermore… Oh, oh.

It appears that jet lag has made us forget the password to access the Pollstar.com tour database. Hmmm, looks as if we’re going to have to go home and soak in the hot tub while our IT department hacks into the concert search engine. Of course, this is going to take a while, maybe three or four days, and we’ll have to do something in the meantime, such as skiing or partake in yet another wine tasting party. Don’t you hate it when that happens?