"What you smiling about?" I asked cheekily, dipping my head low to get to Nikki's height.

She was standing outside the trailer, folding the recently washed laundry. We had finally gotten the chance to get to a proper laundromat, and boy were our clothes phresh.

"I don't know," she smiled to herself, that sneaky little smile.

"Don't keep secrets, now," I laughed, and pushed away from the side of the trailer. I turned and began walking towards the parking lot, my hands deep in my pockets. My clean pockets, mind you.

That was a good feeling. Wearing clean clothes again.

"Hey, Austin!" an excited voice shouted. I turned my head, caught sight of two girls wearing band tanks and shorts; one of their hands was in the air, waving rapidly. I flashed the most brilliant smile I could have mustered and waved back. They both smiled and turned to each other, hands clenched to their chests as they squealed about our little encounter.

I continued walking.

Every once and again, a fan would approach me and ask for a signature, a picture.

There were too many people to count. Over nineteen thousand tickets had been sold for that particular day; it was another amazing feeling knowing some of those kids were there to see you, and support you.

My life was good. It was really good at the point.

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"This drink is for all those dead rappers I can't name," Spanky held up an over-flowing shot glass filled with a clear liquid; we -- meaning us, Sleeping With Sirens, Chelsea Grin, and Memphis May Fire -- raised ours in mimick to him. Spanky threw the glass back; again, we copied.

The booze burned horribly going down, tearing up my throat and searing off my lips. I coughed a few times, before swallowing a sip of water that was being passed around the group.

Every glass was refilled with the same hard, cheap vodka Alex Koehler had bought at the local shot shop (Liquor store, it was a term used in our band).

Matty raised his shot and said proudly, "For each and every screaming fan at our shows!"

"Cheers to that!" Kellen McGregor screamed, slamming his shot back. We laughed and followed, that haggard burning sensation searing its way into my bloodstream.

"Ah, my turn, my turn," I raised my hand, swaying drunkenly. "I've got one we can all really drink to."

"Yeah?" Matty prodded my side with his foot and slipped back on the grass. He fell to his back, causing a riot of laughter from the entire group.

He held his hand up high, middle finger on display. I reached my arm out, wrapped my hand in his, and pulled him to his feet.

I climbed onto the blue cooler we'd dragged out from our trailer, filled with beer.

"Yes," I held out my glass for Alex to refill.

"This one," I raised my arm up high, "is for the Disney princesses."

"YES!" Spanky screamed, throwing his glass back immediately. He spat after he took the glass away. "Yes, let's drink to the fucking Disney porn stars!"

"Cheers!" we shouted together simultaneously, every empty glass held high with pride.

"Good one," David Flinn laughed, patting my back. I nodded.

"I know," I coughed, stepping down from the cooler. "I fucking know."

"I am drunk as fuck," Tyler burped. "Like seriously, tomorrow's show is gonna be hell."

"Don't worry about it," Alex reassured him. "You'll be all sobered up and un-hungover by then. Just relax!"

Relaxing wasn't quite the world I could have used for that situation. We partied 'till we passed out, we drank 'till we were dead. And we danced all night 'till we couldn't feel our legs.

~Yeah, shit writing, right sorry about that. Not very inspired today.~