Border crossing, Belgium. That's our driver, Sander.

Sander and friend.

Wilbertjan and Jenny. It was Wilbertjan's birthday and a couple weeks earlier
he'd run into our European booking guy at a show and told him he would match whatever
we were being offered elsewhere if we'd be willing to play at his birthday party.
What, and miss hanging out until three in the morning in a filthy, stinking rock club?
Happy birthday, Wilbertjan!