Behold, the not-so-debaucherous life of a guy with no real world skills, pleasantly condemned to do this shit, in some form or another, for the rest of his life.

9 hours in the bunk on show days, 10 hours on days off.
drink more water than you previously thought possible.
Vitamins, vitamins, and jesus god more vitamins.
An hour of yoga before every show.
Regard the bottle of Jameson with a wistful smile, remembering the good times but also that one time you slept slumped against a vending machine in, jesus, Philadelphia? Better, sometimes, to surrender gracefully the things of youth.
Knowing that, at the end of a long tour, you’re a different person, and just who that dapper bastard might be you’re oh so eager to find out.