Weathered by Greg:
I was working as a sound operator/roadie with a production of "Always... Patsy Cline" that was touring Montana, North Dakota, Wyoming and Colorado. The day before a show in Sheridan, WY my buddy Dave from Bozeman served me some venison chorizo he'd had made from a deer he'd hunted earlier in the season.
It was about halfway through the first act, during "I Fall to Pieces," when the worst case of food poisoning I'd ever had set in. I barely made it to the restroom at intermission and somehow got through the second act, despite intestinal distress equal in intensity to the nearby geysers of Yellowstone. Needless to say, I have less than happy memories of the Sheridan Best Western where I spent the rest of the night in agony.
This was early January and the whole next week we were up on the High Line, across the remote and lonely Highway 2 in northern Montana just a little ways from the Canadian border. We did 11 shows in 6 days in 7 different towns. In the heart of cowboy country, I couldn't stand to even look at a piece of meat. If not for veggie sammies from Subway, I would have perished alongside a cow skull somewhere outside Chinook.
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