Chicago: Confetti Guns, Lei-ing an Entire Audience at the Subterranean, and a quick Indianapolis Handshake.
FLORIDA KILOS 
Magic Milk: A furious band without the need for pants. By Shawn
We're home alive (for a couple weeks at least) and all the shows and towns on this last tour were determined to get the bands in as much trouble as possible but...
Chicago wins. I can say that. The Subterranean show we will try to remember, in whatever bits and pieces our shattered little Florida minds will allow.
Be it Magic Milk, displaying some local garage rock tighty whitey prowess ... or mainly the crowd screaming at high volume from the moment we walked on stage and dancing through the entire set with the girls in the front row screaming to "Lei Them"... confetti poppers that caused an outroar (thanks Kyle) or the food, craft local beers (a seemingly endless supply) ... and definately the madness spooky beach rawk that is los Growlers making the crowd froth at the mouth and ladygardens ... and certainly the stuttering amount of tequila shots that have followed the Florida Kilos around on this tour ... and afterparties ...
And well, like any good drunken backyard brawl in good sport, it leaves you better friends the next day, but generally in a state of sprained muscles, shaky hands and even perhaps a new facial tick that you never knew you had.
That is the condition we were all in, when we and los Growlers discovered their van had been towed in the morning. And that's when everyone realized that we all had one big hangover.
Which was fine. Los G's got their van back in one piece, and the drive to Indianapolis was sobering and long, and we all got there barely in time to be greeted by neon lights, a bunch of people into psych rock and liquid light shows, cases of more local craft beer, and whisky to take the edge off and well, more damn tequila. And a cool night at the White Rabbit, Indianapolis.
But yeah. Chicago. You win. And thanks.