Los Angeles

Saturday, May 11:

12 Noon: “If I sleep until 8 p.m., even better. Someone can get the laptop for sound check, but otherwise, I’m to be left alone.” So begins a weekend of everyone being segregated to hotel rooms in Hollywood, our busses still parked outside of Avalon for who-knows-why, other than to store my moving boxes that are en route to Miami.

8 P.M.: Sound check. Markus is giddier than ever. It’s the happiest I’ve seen him on the tour, and that says a lot, because he is almost always smiling. He tweets that this is the most “outrageous production in any L.A. club ever,” but all I see is a massive wall of LEDs – three or four stories tall. Impressive, sure…

We sit on the bus for a few moments afterward, visiting with 2009 America’s Best DJ winner, Z-Trip (also from Arizona), and I think, “All my friends are really cool.”

9:45 P.M.: A press conference is held at a nearby restaurant. The legendary radio jock Swedish Eagle is one of the attendees. I sit back and snack on a cheese plate, while actual journalists do work. Markus announces Scream 2 and its accompanying tour in the Fall. Uh-oh….

11:30 P.M.: KhoMha is in the middle of his set in front of a thousand people…or two. I find the schedule for the night, and am exhausted just reading it. They’re playing until 8 A.M.? No wonder Markus wanted to sleep all day. I, on the other hand, got no nap. He can have his tour back.

12:30 A.M.: The club is absolute madness, including our VIP area, and I am scared. I escape to the back of the club where there is some breathing room. It isn’t long before I’m approached by a dude practicing one of my biggest pet peeves. (Boys, don’t walk up to a girl and just blurt out, “What’s your name?” Introduce yourself like a gentleman.) I run to find another safe place, pushing past a stream of people coming into the club, and am stunned to find a life-sized unicorn. I continue to our merch booth, and wish I could be back behind it for once.

1 A.M.: Markus’ intro drives me back to the main floor, and I’m in total awe. During sound check, I hadn’t noticed that we also brought in LEDs for the ceiling, or that there were even more wrapped around the back balcony. They are strobing brighter than the sun. I turn around to find the head of DC3 behind me, smiling at his work, and give him a high-five.

Go-go dancers painted white like unicorns—complete with slash wounds that are bleeding rainbows—throw blow-up unicorns and light-up swords into the crowd. Markus gets on the mic a few moments into his set and says, “I feel like I’m at home!”

Sunday, May 12:

7 P.M.: Sound check. The life-sized unicorn that greets everyone at the front doors is covered with a sheet. The horn is missing. You can’t have a unicorn around when you’re promoting this “unicorn slayer” thing and not expect someone to slay it, Markus. “Yeah, but that’s MINE to slay!”

We take a group photo with 28 people involved in the tour. “Shouldn’t Sarah be in the middle, since it’s her tour?” Yes, I should—and doing a headstand! (Well, whatever, they got back at me. Everyone looks lovely in the final photo, while I’m looking away and making a hideous face.)

8 P.M.: End-of-tour dinner. Toasts ensue, congratulating Markus on the success of the tour. It’s a proud, yet somber time. I love so many of these people, but I don’t really want to talk to any of them now. It’s a form of detachment, I guess, to protect my feelings in the end. At the same time, I want to have short cuddle sessions with all of them, and I can’t help but think of one of my favorite movies, the Madonna: Truth or Dare documentary.

I had never understood the intimacy she had with her crew, so much that she said goodbye to them while they were in her bed. All of these weeks spent in close quarters with people working toward a passionate goal will produce that kind of familiarity. Not in a sexual way; like, in a platonic, slumber-party way.

11 P.M.: Once again, I check the schedule. It only lists Markus as going until 4 A.M., but then reads, “What curfew?” I am scared again, but the crowd has a more chill vibe than last night (younger and less intensely serious), so I feel more energetic. My friends from Phoenix are sending #ScreamBusTour tweets, so that I can read them on the projection screens on the side walls.

Downstairs, I discover all of the blow-up unicorns stuffed into plastic bags, and can’t handle their giant, innocent eyes. I rescue one like the dork that I am.

1 A.M.: Markus takes the stage once again. Bright lights, confetti, cryo, unicorn girls, toys, etc., all ensue once again. The difference is that tonight it is being filmed for MTV’s “Clublife” (be on the lookout starting later this week). Markus greets the viewers, saying, “All you’re watching right now is me having fun with all of my friends!”

3:30 A.M.: Markus and KhoMha are dishing out a mean hour-long tag team set, and our tour manager is finally broken. Dead asleep on his “prodo” desk, he may or may not be cuddling with a blow-up unicorn.

Monday, May 13:

9 A.M.: We’re off to Miami. In the car on the way to the airport, Markus is already making a to-do list for the Fall tour, despite having gotten zero sleep. He doesn’t quit!

2 P.M.: All I want to do is sleep, having only gotten a couple hours between the final show and having to go to the airport. I would kill to have my on-bus sleeping problems in comparison to this. I would rather be in my bunk now, in a veritable hotel room on wheels… no TSA yelling at us, no indecent feeling of being stripped of privacy, no flight delays, no 12-freaking-dollar turkey sandwiches, nor having to wake up a stranger so that I can go use the restroom…

Viva la Scream Bus Tour!

Los Angeles

We got through the hoop of the Arizona homecoming, and now it’s time to hit another home of sorts for Markus: The massive Avalon Hollywood, across Vine Street from the iconic Capitol Records building.

Markus holds a residency at Avalon, and it hosts the finale of the Scream Bus Tour, which was extended to two nights after Saturday’s event sold out. Throughout the tour, the production has been evolving and growing, and it is time to really let it explode. If every show leading up to this were a cocoon, here is the butterfly. (Or is it….?)

I’ve mentioned over and over that each venue is transformed with the tour’s production, and every time, I have been impressed with the outcome of a festival-style atmosphere and its blinding lights, whether it was a smaller space like Lizard Lounge in Dallas or a concert hall like Echostage in DC…

Well, nothing—and I mean, nothing—compared to what the crew put together for Avalon. We are talking about three-story tall LED setups onstage, LEDs overhead in the rafters, LEDs lining the balcony… Not to mention the life-sized unicorn that is greeting everyone at the entrance, or the slain unicorn-themed go-go dancers throwing blow-up unicorns into the crowd, etc…
Avalon is already impressive, but our Scream crew just about quadrupled the experience.

And Markus, known for his marathon sets, hasn’t been able to let loose in any other city until now—most venues had curfews of 2 p.m. No two-hour set here in Hollywood! This thing is going to go all night and well into the morning, and evolve even further…

All of this is just a taste of what will come in the Fall when Scream 2 takes to the road. Stayed tuned for more on our two-night experience at Avalon Hollywood….

Markus Schulz plays his second of two nights this evening at Avalon Hollywood.

Scottsdale, Ariz. – I had a nightmare that the tour was ending. The goodbyes were painful. I kept reappearing in The M Machine’s car, and they kept telling me that I wasn’t supposed to be there anymore…

Whatever. Nobody is going to get rid of me after this.

We have three busses for cast and crew now. The former, old crew bus has been replaced with a fancy new one. There is a sign with a list of rules from the tour manager that starts with, “Now that we live in opulence…” and ends with, “And keep your buttholes tight.”

Markus has kept our original bus, but it is now for family only. Like, actual family—not including my honorary sisterhood. He razzed me that I’m being kicked off, but joke’s on him: This new, third bus is bigger and fancier. And shortly after departure, I take advantage of its smoother ride by performing a manic karaoke-of-sorts to a Whitesnake DVD, turning Scream Tour glow wands into air drumsticks. (Moral of the story? Don’t give me cupcakes after midnight.)

After two shows back to back at Fluxx in San Diego, it’s time for an Arizona homecoming. This is the place where back in the day, people like me and Markus and so many others impassioned about dance music worked in any way possible to help it grow. Hopefully, everyone will be proud of the progress he has made since moving away. (And I had thought that there was pressure on Markus just to impress his son a couple of nights before…)

We spend the afternoon at the beautiful Hotel Montelucia, many of us languishing in our private pool. We are definitely being spoiled during this final week of the tour. The documentary crew also uses the day to conduct interviews of key people from Markus’ upbringing in the industry, including the owner of The Works nightclub, a seminal piece of Arizona dance music history. It is a time and a place in many people’s hearts, and Markus credits Steven Rogers as having given him the freedom to find himself and to grow and develop as an artist during the years of his residency.

Sound check rolls around, and we learn about an ordinance that will keep us from using cryo and confetti at this particular show. It’s a bummer that we can’t give the full production, but with everything else the show has to offer, I’m still confident that it will impress. I’m looking forward to showing it off to friends and family that are joining me.

Sure enough, the crowd grows and grows throughout the night, and is greatly responsive to everyone’s performance. KhoMha, playing from only 10-11 p.m., garners cheers and applause at his set’s end. The M Machine gains new fans, as they do every night, even though they’ve been thrown into a primarily trance event. And finally: Markus. The screams from nearly 1000 people are intense. Hands are in the air, as usual. The LEDs and lights are blinding, as usual.

I look to my best friend and beam, “This is every night!” I can’t speak for the rest of AZ, but I am proud, and so honored to have been a part of this.

Next stop: Hollywood, Calif., for a two-night finale at Avalon tonight and tomorrow night. Stay tuned.

San Diego – We took a break and how we’re back—at Fluxx in San Diego on May 8 and at The Venue of Scottsdale, Ariz., on May 9. It all went like this:

I have a lot of dread whenever I think about San Diego, because it has seemed like my bad-luck city in the past. This time, however, I am excited to be there. The bus tour has had a week off, sending Markus off to Malaysia and Singapore, KhoMha to Malaysia (different events) and Australia, and The M Machine to Las Vegas and other US cities. My week was spent at home. Yawn.

3 p.m.: At the first venue check, most everyone is reunited. Many smiles and hugs go around. People who had left after the first week of the tour are back in the group, and some brand new ones are added, as well, with even more to join in by the finale in LA. A third bus has been added to the Scream fleet. I am hearing rumors that we have a crew/entourage of 40 people now – but how they are traveling, I do not know. The busses, actually, are nowhere to be seen, because busses cannot park in downtown San Diego. Therefore, we stay in a great hotel walking distance from the venue. Yoga mats are in all of the rooms, with an ad that reads, “Downward facing blog.” My tour, my hotel!

7 p.m.: Sound check. Markus comments that I had lost weight during the week off and that I look great, and just I know he is preemptively complimenting me to try and make up for later bullying. Markus cues up a new track he recently finished, and I like that it sounds like New Order (except for this sick drop…). His son looks on with pride, admitting that his dad is cool. I tell him not to say that too loudly, or he might hear.

The tour manager hangs from a flower. I tell him that he’s like my older brother, even though he’s younger than me, and he farts at me. Our new stage manager looks like Bizarro Thor with his badass tattoos covering chin to heel. The staging is once again being configured to work in another new space that typically just has a DJ booth and not a festival-style rig. New shirt designs have been added to merch, and I steal one. Catering arrives for dinner, and Markus catches me eating. There goes my skinny compliment….

9:45 p.m.: KhoMha takes the stage. I want a cocktail, but feel bad that everybody else on the crew is still working and hasn’t even gone to the hotel for a shower. It’s also 18+ night, so I don’t feel like it’s appropriate to be in party mode. Oh, and it’s also only Wednesday.

11:45 p.m.: Markus’ intro music is cued. His son finally gets to see what he has been doing for the last several weeks, and Markus seems nervous for the first time that I’ve seen on tour, or possibly ever. Do fathers want to make their sons proud as much as sons want to make their fathers proud? I feel that in this moment.

2 a.m.: The club is cleaning up trampled white confetti, the tour crew is eating delicious pizza, and it’s a more relaxing end to a night, because we do it all again in the same club tomorrow for a 21+ crowd…

Albuquerque, N.M.

5:30 a.m.: The road from Denver to Albuquerque wakes me up in the middle of the night… or morning… or whenever it is that I’m sleeping. It is so bumpy and winding, and I’m just swaying all over my bunk. I imagine that we are rambling through mountains, and get anxious that we’ll topple down one of them. I’m not sure if it’s a good or bad thing that there aren’t windows in this middle part of the bus.

1:30 p.m.: We’re on the fair grounds. Tonight’s gig will be the earliest, as well as the only outdoor, show we’ve done. Will the hours of setting up lighting and LEDs be worth everyone’s time? Will the show translate to this crowd? Is everyone involved, from crew to crowd, going to be satisfied? Only time will tell.

Meanwhile, Markus and KhoMha are on the bus, talking about their upcoming week away from the bus tour. Markus has gigs in Singapore and Malaysia, and KhoMha is playing Malaysia and Australia. “Do you need anything? Do you need music from the tour?” Markus asks, always willing to help the rising star under his wing.

Markus disappears to a hotel for the day, leaving me to write more about “my” tour. I spend my afternoon working in a makeshift office – “prodo,” according to our tour manager –which is set up in a different space every night on tour. I think this setup makes him look like the greenroom shower secretary.

4:30 p.m.: The weather is beautiful, but it is putting us in allergy hell. I walk around the Expo Center, just through what must be sheets of pollen in an otherwise lovely breeze. It’s a perfect day for a picnic, and soon we will have a chef cooking us chicken and broccoli on a hibachi behind the busses.

7:30 p.m.: KhoMha takes the stage during sunset, after spending all afternoon listening to music and preparing for his set. “Tonight, I will play ‘pretty.’ I’m going to play for myself. I hope they will like it.”

9:00 p.m.: Back in “prodo” during The M Machine’s set, one of our drivers comes in with an assessment of the crowd. He says there’s an EMT on-site… “But if something happens, it better happen right in front of him. He makes me look skinny!”

Markus enters for an interview and another meet-&-greet. Some fans have brought us delicious enchiladas, beans and rice, as well as a large cake in the shape of a (decapitated) unicorn head. I hope that the cake inside is as tasty as the decoration is skilled.

11:25 p.m.: I have spent the majority of the night inside the bus, miserable from allergies, working and watching KhoMha pack for his mini-tour. I finally take a quick walk around the event before it ends, stopping at the back of a crowd that is so incredibly responsive, and the expression on Markus’ face is indescribable. I feel happy and proud for him.

“Love Rain Down” is at its peak, and I feel like I’m hearing the song for the first time, and the visuals were definitely worth setting up today. It feels like it was produced for this moment, for this night underneath the desert stars, in a city that has always had one of the most amazing crowds. One minute with them, and I’m flooded with their positive vibes. “Feels like the desert in need… Let your love rain down on me….” Don’t tell anyone, but I was holding back tears. And I wasn’t doing a very good job of it.

Midnight: “What a night, huh? If it’s like this when we’re ‘home’ in Phoenix, it’ll be a dream come true.” Indeed. It’s so hard to impress those from whence you came.

I wash a butcher knife, and we head back to the greenroom to take care of a certain cake….

Photo: Team V

Denver, Col. – We had an off day in the Mile High City this past Thursday and a gig there at The Church. It went like this:

11:30 a.m.: I’m woken up by the sound of things crashing onto the ground. I assume it’s my toiletry bag that was chillin’ on the top bunk, so I try to go back to sleep. Shortly, the beeping of the refrigerator outside of the studio/bunk-room door tells me what really happened. Once again, Markus was the last one to bed, and once again, the fridge has flown open during our bumpy ride. Markus! The smoothies, deli meats and hummus all survived the fall. The glass jar of pickles, though, has created a stinky danger zone.

1:40 p.m.: “All I want to do today is go for a bike ride.” It’s not long before he realizes his bike is still chained outside of the hotel in Austin. Markus!

10:30 p.m.: For the first time, we get a really good chunk of the crew together to go out on the town. We spend an hour or so at Shotgun Willie’s for “Dirty Nerdy Girl” night or something like that, and I think that what this production is missing is go-go dancers.

12:30 a.m.: I’m in the restroom at Denver’s Beta club, overhearing a girl who is freaking out because Markus Schulz is in the house. Indeed, he is hanging out behind Super8 & Tab during their set, which includes their remix of “Perception” from his Scream album. KhoMha is there, too, being greeted by fan after fan, and Markus smiles, “I love watching this part. Give him five years of this, and…” he makes an upward motion with his hand. When we depart, he is handed a flyer for his own show at The Church tomorrow.

April 26 (show day)

11:15 a.m.: Time to ditch the cozy hotel and board the bus to the venue. We’re all a little slow this morning.

“You missed it last night,” Markus pipes up. “We got stranded at IHOP! The manager eventually had to drive us all home.” And that is another reason I don’t do after-party “dining.” He pops in a classic WWF DVD. The audio to that is fun to listen to while watching the webisode that was posted by our documentarians about the first few days of the tour.

3:00 p.m.: Since Markus has bought a new bike, he takes it around the city, stopping at Wax Trax – a classic haven for vinyl junkies. When I worked for him at Plastik Records back in the day, I thought that vinyl would never die. Now that music is stored on USB sticks, life is easier for everyone. Veterans like Markus, however, still have thousands of pieces of old vinyl in storage containers.

Photo: Sarah Gianetto

7:15 p.m.: Sound check. New parts are being added to the show, and there’s a renewed giddiness coming from Markus. He’s also excited to bring his production to the venue where he has performed for the last four Thanksgiving Eves in a row. I’m thrilled to check out The Church myself, and get lost exploring the maze of rooms of what used to be an actual house of worship. The M Machine is back from a one-show hiatus, having played Atlanta instead in of Tulsa. “I’m happy to be back with my family,” smiles Swardy.

Markus returns to the bus and watches more WWF. “If you could wrestle another DJ, who would it be?” I ask.

“Well, we’d need a heel… because obviously, trance is the good, so we would need someone from another genre that the crowd wants to fail.” He gets distracted by his favorite wrestler, Sugar someone-or-other, and doesn’t complete my interview.

11:30 p.m.: Tonight’s meet-&-greet begins with Markus playing bartender in the green room (except for me, because he’s a bully) and ends with goth dancing in the basement. KhoMha doesn’t skip a beat before joining in. We have time to groove to one song—the original “Midnight City” by M83—before Markus has to get on stage. I sneak down once in a while during his set and dance some more by myself (don’t tell). I feel complete when I have danced to The Church at The Church.

2:30 a.m.: “How much fun was downstairs tonight?” Markus glows, back on the bus. He uses YouTube to pull up some classics: Front242, Nitzer Ebb, Lords of Acid, The Smiths, and again, The Church. Every day, KhoMha learns some new cultural history on this tour. I continue my solo dance party. This make me happy.

It’s 3:03 in the 303, and Markus is ending his ’80s set with U2′s “Where The Streets Have No Name.” I say that it was trance before there was trance. He adds, “It’s so epic… moments like this make you want to be alive.”

I can’t believe that we’re hitting the road again. I can’t believe that we have another show tomorrow. And I can’t believe that this is going to end soon.

Photo: Frankie Vu

Tulsa, Okla. – After a night off in Austin, on April 23 we have another off in Oklahoma of all places—but the winter weather curse has caught up with us again.

“Yesterday, it was 75-degrees and I was wearing shorts!” the local shuttle driver shares. Well, now it’s in the 30s and raining. My arms are sore from kayaking, my butt is sore from bar playground equipment, and I am covered in bruises. Bumpy travel is certainly leaving its mark.

We are still needing to blow off steam. I go bar hopping with a couple people from production, starting in an ’80s arcade bar and ending at a strip club. In Tulsa. On a Tuesday.

I end my night in quiet solitude, exploring Cathedral Square, practicing headstands on the bus and doing dishes at 3 a.m. while everyone else sleeps in the hotel. I’d say I lead a balanced life.

April 24: It’s show day at Cain’s Ballroom.

11:20 a.m.: Bus call time was 11:15 a.m., and KhoMha has been “oil-spotted.” This is what happens when text messages don’t make it through. Luckily, his lesson only cost him a one-mile taxi ride to catch up with us. Markus records a video promo for MTV and the upcoming Avalon show. BBQ catering is delivered to the crew for lunch, but I’m over it. I think my first tour hangover just kicked in.

5:30 p.m.: I wake up from a much-needed nap. KhoMha is working on music in the bus studio… again… and is still not speaking to anyone after this morning’s incident. Markus is at his laptop on the dining table with his headphones on, and all I hear is him smacking his gum. I want to smack it out of his mouth. He catches my stare and spits it out. “Sorry. I get captivated by the music and start chewing to the beat.”

Before I know it, he has climbed into the (usually empty) top bunk and all I see is his arm flopping out. “I took too much NyQuil,” he groans. “I can’t do the show.” He starts mumbling and whining in a Spanish accent. Oh, brother.

8:00 p.m.: It’s an early show tonight at the legendary Cain’s Ballroom. The club has been thumping for an hour already. I can hear the 4/4 beat coming from the main building, across the gravel lot, over the noise of the two bus generators, and over the TV showing “Big Bang Theory” in the green “building” we’ve been afforded for the day. The Tour Manager and I play ping pong for one minute before giving up. Maybe I can juggle the paddles… Nope.

10:00 p.m.: Markus takes the stage to yet another roaring crowd. It’s a full-on rave in here. In Tulsa. On a Wednesday. Markus gets on the mic, “I can’t believe I’m here! This is amazing!”

Signs and flag wave in the air, people are sitting on each other’s shoulders, a blow-up unicorn from the Dallas show made it over, and kids are so decked out, you’d think they were at EDC. Instead, they are underneath a neon star and oversized, autographed portraits of the likes of Hank Williams, Gene Autry, Roy Rogers…

Each night, the way each venue explodes into a sensational party amazes me—no matter what the day feels like, which day of the week it is, which city we’re in, what my expectations may be. And the show has definitely evolved. I’m getting a huge kick out of watching all of the new video content that wasn’t at the beginning of the tour, for example. So much stimulation!

Midnight: It is the end already, and while the crowd chants Markus’ name as his sound fades out, the crew is on standby next to the stage, ready to bust ass to tear down the show and get it on the road to Denver. After signing more autographs and taking more pictures, he heads back to the bus, chugs a bottle of water, and records the voiceovers for the next Global DJ Broadcast.

On to the Mile High City…

Austin, Texas

Last night before bed, I thought, “Ahhh… tomorrow is Sunday….,” then quickly realized that it is not a day of rest, but that we’d be doing this party all over again… and again… and again… and again….

2:45 p.m.: After being woken up by the sound of Markus yelling my name, I stumble into the common area to be scolded for leaving my shoes on the floor. The bus driver talks about a former band on the bus, warning of the importance of a musician not tripping over something and breaking their hands. Considering Markus’ nightly bike rides, I’d say he’s putting himself at risk more than anyone else. Let the sibling rivalry begin for the day….

We take a break from the bickering to have brunch at the funky Frank diner, where old-school hip-hop is setting a good mood. As we sip our caffeine, Markus sings and chair-dances to “What People Do For Money.” KhoMha says we need Melodyne at the table.

4:00 p.m.: After checking on setup at the venue next door, we head back to the bus. I get to overhear more inspired conversation between Markus and KhoMha, this time about longevity.

“My dream is to be a legend—not to be No.1,” his young protégé wisely responds.

Markus sneezes into his hand and attempts to throw his germs at me, then goes on a rant about how he’s never sick, because his immune system is boosted by being constantly exposed to germs, and that I shouldn’t be so paranoid. I tell him I’m going to hide my shoes in random places all over his bedroom. KhoMha tries to break things up.

“She started it!” my bratty brother-from-another-mother proclaims.

6:00 p.m.: The M Machine and Markus are interviewing each other live on Ustream, and I’ve been thrown in as the moderator, keeping them on track and asking the questions from fans that were sent via Twitter. The flow between them is natural, and again, inspiring. I can sit and listen to artists talk for hours…

8:00 p.m.: The whole crew is provided BBQ at the venue. We have about 15 minutes before doors open. I’m invited to watch our tour manager “manhandle” his pieces of chicken.

11:45 p.m.: Markus is once again dancing in silly ways, while The M Machine wraps up its set. “They’re really nice guys and they’re talented,” he comments.

It has been an overall goofy day. Markus says that he needs to loosen up and start having some fun, and I think we could all use a night like that. It’s in the air. Thankfully, tomorrow is one of a couple off-days, because some people aren’t on their best behavior. The tour manager puts The M Machine’s Swardy in timeout, then does his best impression of Markus on stage when we notice they’re wearing matching outfits.

2:15 a.m.: Markus asks for a bottle of water 15 minutes into post-set fan time. I toss one to security. It explodes all over him. Oops.

A bit later, one last fan is escorted onto the bus to meet Markus after we’ve all retreated. “I’m dying!” she says over and over.

We head across the street to a Philly cheesesteak food truck. I order with terrible judgment.

A young man who was at the event is bleeding from his head. Markus discovers his condition and tells him, “Nothing will make me happier than to get you home safely tonight, and for you to message me tomorrow, so that I know you’re OK. Are your eyes OK? I look like Markus? OK?” He pays for his taxi home.

April 22: It’s an off-day in Austin

I finally don’t feel like I’m constantly on a moving bus. Hallelujah.

6:00 p.m.: While Markus is out exploring “Unicorn Country,” I convince KhoMha to try kayaking, despite the fact that he never learned how to swim. Apparently, he was too tall to need to learn. We share a tandem, and within a few minutes of our 2.2-mile, hour-long adventure around Town Lake, he has become the pro and is giving me direction. “Gianetto!” he yells whenever I get off-rhythm, echoing my last name off of the lush cliffs.

Afterwards, it’s time for delicious Tex-Mex at Chuy’s. My arms are so shaky that I can hardly pick up my tortilla chips. New diet fad?

Midnight: A few of us go down to 6^th Street for some chill-out drinking time at Handlebar, where there is random playground equipment. Eric from The M Machine (who has an actual handlebar) teeter-totters with me. I challenge KhoMha on the rocking horses. I suffer many bruises.

2:30 a.m.: We’ve taken off to Tulsa, and Markus is sick.

Markus—Mr. Immunity—has a cold.

Something about these late nights and living in such constant excitement is that it can get very lonely, very fast once it’s over and you’re headed to another city in the middle of the night and can’t sleep. Especially on a weeknight. I sit alone at our dining table, having said goodnight to everyone else, and eat self-pity pizza.

And then, all of a sudden, the boys are out of their beds and in the living room again for some reason! We listen to classic songs about life on the road, like “On The Road Again,” “Faithfully,” and “Turn The Page,” introducing KhoMha to another piece of American culture at the same time.

“Loosen up! We’re on tour! This is supposed to be sex, drugs and rock-n-roll! So, party it up!” Markus demands. “Just don’t leave your shoes on the floor!”

I think he took too much NyQuil.

We end the night giggling hysterically to YouTube clips of Sesame Street and the Muppet Show.

Houston, Texas – The Texas leg of the trek finds us hauling from Dallas into Houston. The gig is at Stereo Live and it went like this:

3:00 p.m.: We awake… and the bus is so quiet. Markus left after last night’s show to fly to Atlanta for the Magnetic Music Festival, leaving me and KhoMha behind for a peaceful, relatively short trek from Dallas to Houston.

4:30 p.m.: There’s a shower inside the venue, and we’ve been supplied with a pile of towels, so I figure I’ll conserve the bus water. But when I climb the dark, clanking metal stairs and enter the green room, I find Maraschino cherries and wristbands on the shower floor, an overused toilet (pee-ew), and a lack of soap. I chicken out, and feel bad for the rest of the crew, who don’t have a fancy shower on their bus.

7:00 p.m.: Soundcheck. KhoMha takes on the responsibility while Markus is away. Other nights’ parties have left multi-colored confetti stuck in the grates of fans high above the dancefloor. We’ll add white to them tonight. The M Machine plays with their new Nerf gun. We devise a back-up plan should
anything happen to Markus’ return flight.

8:45 p.m.: A few large bags of crawfish are delivered for dinner, and the boys are excited. I gag and opt for my Trader Joe’s groceries from Charlotte, instead. I’m a wuss today! Our merch guy animates one of the disgusting “mud bugs,” turning it into a raver with its hand in the air, then into a DJ, with one claw holding imaginary headphones up to its little lifeless head. KhoMha Skype’s with his family in Colombia, giving them a
virtual tour of the bus en Español. I wave “hola.”

10:20 p.m.: KhoMha takes the stage, but then leaves to get himself bottled water from the bus. “KhoMha, the club will get that for you!” I laugh.

Markus took a couple of key production people to Atlanta, so I spend the next hour trying to resolve a visuals issue. A talented woman is one who can run through gravel in 6-inch stilettos.

Fans want to know where the blow-up dinosaur is. I don’t even know where it came from last night!

12:20 a.m.: Markus has returned, and is getting hyped up in the bus, preparing for his second set of the night. We burst into song, “Everybody dance now!” Then, we quickly head to the stage. A moment later, everyone is asking me where Markus is. He seems to have disappeared, so off I go in my all-terrain heels, up, down and all around… Meanwhile, he was tucked away somewhere on stage the whole time. Markus announces that it’s going to get real weird in here for the “holiday.”

1:00 a.m.: Confetti blankets Markus’ equipment. Our attentive tour manager runs up and blows it away. There are so many shirtless boys, and so much neon in here; it’s like Spring Break.

2:00 a.m.: “That was one of the tastiest things I’ve ever had…” Andy from The M Machine returns from trying the hours-old mud bugs on the loading dock. I tell him he’d better knock on wood after he claims that he’s never sick, because he’s never scared.

I may or may not have eaten a whole container of hummus while listening to Mobb Deep. I think it would be fun to go into the front of the club where it’s all hip hop, but am met by a wall of smoke and do a 180.

3:45 a.m.: Markus, KhoMha and the Tour Manager are swapping out the bus studio CDJs for the CDJs from the stage/show, because they’ve had some issues during the tour, and tomorrow there’s time to troubleshoot to see what’s at fault.

“OK, goodnight, everyone,” Markus waves on his way to his bedroom at the back of the bus. KhoMha and I stay in the living room, playing on our laptops.

4:30 a.m.: Out of nowhere, I hear an excited, “Hey, it’s the hub!”

(I thought he was going to bed…)

“Uh oh… It’s the CDJs….”

This is yet another example of the professional dedication that has put Markus where he is today. But, please: go… to…. sleep……!

Dallas, Texas – On through the night, and we end up at the Lizard Lounge in Dallas…

2:30 p.m.: “Mornin’” from… somewhere….

We’re still driving to Dallas from St Louis. Markus is on business calls, and I jump into my own work. We hit a truck stop somewhere on the line between Oklahoma and Texas. Our driver made sure to bring us to a nicer one than last time, so that we won’t be approached by “lot lizards.”

There are things you learn to do differently when living on a bus, like using a microwave as a mirror, doing everything one-handed to keep yourself from tumbling all over the place (getting dressed is interesting), shutting the left refrigerator door before the right, and so on. Also, I’ve learned that nobody hears your screams from outside of the bus when, say, you drop your entire plate of food in the parking lot.

4:45 p.m.: We finally pull up to the Lizard Lounge in Dallas. The production crew doesn’t have as much time as usual. Set-up has been averaging nine hours each day, and we don’t know how they will pull it off. They haven’t even eaten yet. I play “mom” for a few moments, delivering some food, coffee and medicine between the two busses and venue. Now the crew’s freezer contains Skoal and Hot Pockets!

9:00 p.m.: Thanks to the help of great stagehands from the club, the crew was able to complete production in only five hours today.

I’m munching on a salad while Markus is at the bus’ dining table, jamming out behind his laptop. I don’t know what he’s working on, and can’t hear what’s in his headphones, but he seems to be thoroughly enjoying it. KhoMha comes out of the studio to touch base on the sets for the night, since he is closing instead of opening, at what will be his second appearance at Lizard Lounge in a few short months.

“Will you be playing the same set as last night?” he asks.

“Well, generally, but I’ll be changing some things, of course,” Markus says. “The idea is for the set to evolve over the tour.”

11:30 p.m.: Dinner arrives in the form of street tacos, another new food for KhoMha. “Taco Bell isn’t real,” I explain. I introduce him to the Jäger-bomber, and The M Machine exclaims that it’s the best news ever. I spend the rest of the night shot-blocking them and doing sloppy speed-Yoga.

Midnight: There’s a crowd outside of the pink (not green) room, waiting for their meet-&-greet with Markus. One giddy girl tells me that he’s her favorite DJ of all time, and that she’s afraid she’s going to say something stupid. Someone tells me I have the best job ever. I agree.

Once the meet-&-greet starts, and Markus is chatting with the winning fans, someone steps away from the circle around him to approach me. “Are you Sarah?” they ask with a grin. “Can I get a picture with you? It would make my day!” Sorry, Markus—it’s my tour! Time for a headstand.

1:15 a.m.: It’s 54-degrees outside, but hot as summer in the club. There are blow-up unicorns in the air, unicorn horns on girls’ heads, Scream Tour glow wands waving in the crowd, and the most amazing intensity from the crowd. Markus did a Global DJ Broadcast World Tour recording here a couple of years ago, and every visit since has been bigger and bigger. It’s electric tonight.

The M Machine’s beer bottles and speakers had kept vibrating off ledge during their set, so it’s like we can’t escape bus living. #firstworldproblems

I chat with fans here and there, including one who has been battling cancer, and who is so grateful for Markus. “If it weren’t for Markus and his music, I wouldn’t have progressed as much as I did.” I think of my dad, whom I’ve been taking care of for the last few months during chemo treatment, and wonder how he’s holding up without me around.

3:45 a.m.: A few fans getting pictures with KhoMha after his closing set beg, “Are you going to be at Vegas EDC? Even if you aren’t, just lie to me!!!” When he stays stoic, they add, “If you’re going to be at EDC Vegas, don’t say anything!”

A few moments later, we open the doors of the bus and are immediately greeted by Markus handing over a large plastic bag. “Here, find a place for this garbage!” I guess that’s called ego-balancing.

4:15 a.m.: Markus takes apart one of the new glow wands. “Boys like to figure out his things work.”

He departs for Atlanta to take a flight without some of us, so that he can squeeze the Magnetic Music Festival in, totaling him at six gigs in five days, and counting. He tells KhoMha he is the man of the house now. In his deep Colombian voice, he ponders, “What does the man of the house do? Nothing. Just work.”