CLEVELAND -- I woke up on a hardwood floor in Cleveland next to a coffee table littered with music magazines, pizza boxes and a bong.

Austin Dutmer, the drummer for Milwaukee indie rock outfit Jaill was staring out the window nervously at the 12-inch snow fall that had gathered overnight and that we'd soon have to shovel our way out of to make it to night number two in Detroit.

My mouth was dry. My head was splitting, and there was a pizza crust in my sleeping bag.

The trip to the South by Southwest music festival had just begun and already was shaping up to be a liver crippling, spirit testing, righteous voyage into the American abyss.

It all started the day before in Milwaukee when I walked down stairs to find singer and guitar player Vinnie Kircher and bass player Andrew Harris waiting in the patiently in the van.

I tossed in my duffel bag and a few minutes later we were parked in front of Dutmer's house, as the final piece of what is arguably Milwaukee's biggest band trotted across his yard and turned to wave goodbye to his wife and kid.

With a tank full of gas and a cache of road snacks we barreled headlong into what promised to be a 10-day whirlwind adventure packed full of toll roads, truck stop coffee, and discussions about what we'd watched on Netflix recently en route to South by Southwest, one of out nation's biggest music festivals.

"Did we remember to bring the French press?" asked Dutmer.

After having toured their asses off since the release of "That's How We Burn," the undisputed summer jam of a record they put out on Sub-Pop last year, these guys know what's up on the food front. When Dutmer recommended I top off the curry chicken pita pocket Kircher had prepared for me I knew I was tagging along with some pro road-dogs.

What the approximately eight-hour-drive to meet up with tourmates Obits in Cleveland lacked in scenery, it made up for in conversation.

With Dutmer manning the radio we discussed such subjects as whether the hip-hop Illuminati was affiliated with the Illuminati Illuminati, what movies everyone had watched on Netflix recently, and why pistachios are so expensive.

By the time we pulled into Cleveland giant silver dollar-sized snow flakes had started to fall. We loaded in the band's gear, checked in with the club, and introduced ourselves to the Obits, a group featuring members of legendary indie acts like Drive Like Jehu and Hot Snakes and as it would turn out the nicest dudes ever.

Upon the bartender's suggestion we walked down the block to grab a bite at Cosmic Dave's, a stoner-friendly sandwich shop covered with Grateful Dead posters.

The club Jaill was playing, The Grog Shop, was filling up when we got back. By the time Jaill took the stage following a decent local act, the place was filled up with at least 100 people, not bad considering the steady snowfall coming down when we pulled into town had turned into blizzard.

Jaill ripped through a set that mixed songs off their last two records along with some new stuff. Some of the songs were being played out for the first time live and the crowd really ate them up. As I sat back at their merch booth off to the side of the stage people straggled up to buy music. The Jaill boys brought it in Cleveland and the audience took note.

After burning through the rest of our drink tickets, which seemed to be dangerously plentiful for the first night of tour, we hopped in the van and headed around the corner to stay with a couple guys who worked at the club.

A warm pepperoni pizza awaited us in the house that had a decor that suggested a warm pizza was always awaiting someone there. A giant portrait of Hunter S. Thompson wielding a giant pistol drawn onto the kitchen door with what looked to be a ball point pen stared back at me and I had to wonder exactly how weird this trip was going to get.

Riding high on a solid day one of our trek to Texas, we made our beds on the fold out couch and hardwood floor and drifted to sleep.

When we woke up the van was an island in a parking lot covered in more than a foot of snow that had fallen overnight.

"We are going to have to dig our way out of here," Dutmer said, staring out the window.

I opened the pizza box, ate a leftover crust and headed out the door to start digging.

There was sunshine and breakfast tacos in our future, and no amount of snow was going to stop us from overdoing both.