Just east of Town Hall and across the railroad tracks in Denton, Texas you'll find a small, nondescript little building with the letters "RGRS" on the front. The place is called "Rubber Gloves," and yes, I spent literally 10 minutes trying to figure out how "Rubber Gloves" = "RGRS" (we later found out that there are a number of rehearsal studios in the building making the full establishment name "Rubber Gloves Rehearsal Space"...crafty). Inside, you'll find one of the coolest bars/rock clubs this side of Dubya with a great jukebox and cool staff to boot.
A word to the wise: don't go shopping with Damian. Having got a week and a half into the tour we took the trek to the local Denton shopping mall to pick up socks and underwear. This should be easy. It took me about three minutes to grab what I needed when I noticed Damian intently staring at the underwear rack:Damian:
"Don't you think the selection here is a little weird?"Me:
"Uhh, I don't know, why?"Damian:
"Like, look at these [picks up a pair of drawers]. It's possible that these will have too much fabric and then you'll just be swimming in it."Me:
"But these over here [picks up another pair], there's a decent chance they'll be too small, and that you definitely don't want...I mean, Jesus, just get those off of me...you know what I mean?"Me:
"I'm just not familiar with their selection."Me:
"Dude, it's underwear, who cares?"Damian:
"No, I can't deal with this...we have to go somewhere else."Me:
This happened two more times in other department stores (I shit you not). From now on all my interactions with Damian will be non-undergarment related, I promise you.