Saturday Sept 17
I am in New Brunswick. The sun has not yet arisen, and we are out the door, cramming the back of the vehicle and heading out, going further north on the north American continent than we have ever been before. Cool. It is not a warm day. We Say good bye to the last of Moncton and drive away. And we Drive and Drive and drive and drive and drive and drive. We eventually make it back towards the USA border crossing, and I ask to be let out so that I can go home, but I am forced to continue. Something is driving me onwards, I can not explain. Trees and trees and trees. A whole lot of nothing but nature out the windows. Following the river, and up and down the hills and around the Mountains we are given glimpses of what the original inhabitants and the first settlers might have seen. Lovely vistas, blue sky, and green with hints of the color changes, not approaching peak season yet, and we have the road to ourselves.
After and eternity and a time change back one hour we arrive in Quebec City, civilization on the river, clinging to the sides of the hills. I could be anywhere, this city is so familiar yet foreign, it is not like a North American city at all, glimpses of Europe every where. They clean the streets every day, they let people cross the streets, and the buildings huddle together, leaning this way and that, a cobbled collection of stone and wood and tile.
We check into our digs, a comfy roomy room, and trash it leaving little walking space. Hand laundry is done and hanging up, cosmetics strewn around the lavatory, and a reorientation to room elevator and lobby. Funny the faces you see when traveling. Especially your own.
Another committee meeting and security issues are clarified, and we are requested to cause trouble, at least we dream. Found a lovely pub and sated ourselves, and walked around getting the last of the travel cramps out of our legs, and enjoy the night sky. I Saw Jupiter. Amazing watching the sturdy draft horses and the coaches all try to get around the same narrow passage, and no one honked, or used loud profanity. Wow.
A great night sleep, everyone should try this, sleeping. So this is what others do while on holiday, I am usually out in search of itinerant musicians to torture, and it is unusual to have a night off, I feel lost, but fatique wins out.
Tuesday, September 20, 2011
Sunday, September 18, 2011
Friday Sept 16
Woke up in Nova Scotia for the last time. Finally found a man in a kilt willing to spend time with me, at least for a picture. After a committee meeting, an update to the Boss, we do our duty and then take off for New Brunswick. We Stop and pay our respects to the Dead of the Titanic. A Simple and fitting memorial to those who made it only to Halifax as their final destination; brought tears to my eyes.
Bridges, highways, trucks, funny looking cars, Signs for Moose crossing, but never any moose. Lots of trees.
We pull into Moncton, a nice place, not as picturesque as Halifax, but we stumble upon a nice pub and I had a pasty and mash. YUM, and non caloric. Soap and water to wash off the road, as I had become insanely jealous of the car window each time I cleaned it. I did have to yell at some of the bugs as they hit hard.
Did find out along the way that I needed to brush up on pachyderm identification. We passed by what was clearly and elephant, but I was corrected and told it was a mastodon, a statue on mastodon hill, mind you. Looked like and elephant to me. Must stay inside one day and study.
But not today.
Ablutions done. We drive thru town to the colliseum. The Marquee was dark, and it looked like the parking lot was empty. Oh no, were we in the right place? I was assured that we were not led astray and that the appropriate people would arrive at the appropriate time, and sing the appropriate songs. Phewww, started to doubt myself. We meet up with the other person there, and went to our seats. All in a little cluster of familiarity, a small cluster, what is smaller than a cluster? A blister? S pimple ? Well, we were there and that was important, and shocking to some.
Appreciations all around, we appreciated them, they appreciated us. Winks and waves to those who were known, and to the unknown.
A big thanks to those unknown who purchase the tickest and put bums in seats allowing those of us to travel from place to placeto have a destination. But why do I get the Big Giant Head in front of me each time? We had talkers around us, and I learn a lot.
In Moncton tonight I learned that the Keyboard player is John Lennons son, cool.
In Halifax I heard a lady describe naughty things she was reaching on her own while listening to YWD. Ewwww
In Manchester I learned that G is 79 and that JH is 74, oh no
I also had found out that they had been on the road since June, and that this is the last North American appearance. Good to know.
Sound was great for a hockey rink and hollow stage, no reverb or extra vibrations
Vocals were spot on, a few cracks that were so minor I hesitate to mention them, as no one noticed.
Bass could have been louder keyboards could have been louder, as I am losing my hearing, and need all things done to my specifications.
Stand out songs
Driftwood, never better and someone was quite pleased with himself, I saw enthusiasm.
IJAS bouncy
NIWS meaningful, but I did not need a cigarette afterwards
H&H extra twiddly guitar bits.
Woke up in Nova Scotia for the last time. Finally found a man in a kilt willing to spend time with me, at least for a picture. After a committee meeting, an update to the Boss, we do our duty and then take off for New Brunswick. We Stop and pay our respects to the Dead of the Titanic. A Simple and fitting memorial to those who made it only to Halifax as their final destination; brought tears to my eyes.
Bridges, highways, trucks, funny looking cars, Signs for Moose crossing, but never any moose. Lots of trees.
We pull into Moncton, a nice place, not as picturesque as Halifax, but we stumble upon a nice pub and I had a pasty and mash. YUM, and non caloric. Soap and water to wash off the road, as I had become insanely jealous of the car window each time I cleaned it. I did have to yell at some of the bugs as they hit hard.
Did find out along the way that I needed to brush up on pachyderm identification. We passed by what was clearly and elephant, but I was corrected and told it was a mastodon, a statue on mastodon hill, mind you. Looked like and elephant to me. Must stay inside one day and study.
But not today.
Ablutions done. We drive thru town to the colliseum. The Marquee was dark, and it looked like the parking lot was empty. Oh no, were we in the right place? I was assured that we were not led astray and that the appropriate people would arrive at the appropriate time, and sing the appropriate songs. Phewww, started to doubt myself. We meet up with the other person there, and went to our seats. All in a little cluster of familiarity, a small cluster, what is smaller than a cluster? A blister? S pimple ? Well, we were there and that was important, and shocking to some.
Appreciations all around, we appreciated them, they appreciated us. Winks and waves to those who were known, and to the unknown.
A big thanks to those unknown who purchase the tickest and put bums in seats allowing those of us to travel from place to placeto have a destination. But why do I get the Big Giant Head in front of me each time? We had talkers around us, and I learn a lot.
In Moncton tonight I learned that the Keyboard player is John Lennons son, cool.
In Halifax I heard a lady describe naughty things she was reaching on her own while listening to YWD. Ewwww
In Manchester I learned that G is 79 and that JH is 74, oh no
I also had found out that they had been on the road since June, and that this is the last North American appearance. Good to know.
Sound was great for a hockey rink and hollow stage, no reverb or extra vibrations
Vocals were spot on, a few cracks that were so minor I hesitate to mention them, as no one noticed.
Bass could have been louder keyboards could have been louder, as I am losing my hearing, and need all things done to my specifications.
Stand out songs
Driftwood, never better and someone was quite pleased with himself, I saw enthusiasm.
IJAS bouncy
NIWS meaningful, but I did not need a cigarette afterwards
H&H extra twiddly guitar bits.
Friday, September 16, 2011
Thursday September 15
Somewhere in Halifax. The fog is thick, it looks a cold and murky day out there, and after a brief interlude of internet necessities, we pick ourselves up and off we go. And off comes the rain coat, then the scarf, then the sweater. Any more comes off and we get arrested, or frighten Rock stars, and believe me, I am good at that.
We go to see a broken window in St. Pauls Church. It was broken during the explosion, and each subsequent replacement has broken into the same profile of one of the early rectors. I had read about it in a novel, and needed to see this. We then climb the matterhorn. We take a short cut to avoid the stairs, and end up climbing the hill twice, and during said climb, with ragged breathing and high pitches wheezes of “I am fine” I get shot with a cannon, and jump down the hill. Twelve noon every day there is a ceremonial firing of the Citidel’s cannon. I was there at noon. Good thing I like artillery and loud noises. After that, a fife and drum unit, and bag pipes serenaded us to the summit. Found out we could have taken a taxi. We fight three tour buses filled with tourists to see the guard in his kilt. I am dragged away and pulled down hill, still clawing at the grass to see my kilted dream boat, but as I am old, foreign and dressed like a pirate, it was a good decision by people wiser than me to take me to a converted morgue for lunch. LOVE a morgue. The Five Fishermen is said to be the morgue for the Titanic victims, and the Explosion victims a few years later. Didn’t see any ghosts during lunch, disappointedly, but had a lovely local cider with my meal. We Then hit the mall, and I finally get the hair brush of my dreams.
Sweaty people everywhere the fog and humidity is so oppressive.
Sponging off the dirt of the day and toweling on the face of the night; we leave the car and walk back up the Alps. To the Venue. We have to go up stairs then down stairs to get to our seats, we are also stamped again. What is it this Tour that the venues insist on marking us? I think they are using special ink and are tracing our every move.
The Concert was politely well received. A youngish Baby boomer crowd, forties to sixties in age, with two lovely couples in the front romantically dancing to ILS and NIWS. Much better than the female duos dancing to TOSOL the past two nights. I had been beginning to think that there was another side to life in New England. There still may be, but no one was investigating it in Halifax.
Stand out songs
TDWMA Scorching achingly beautiful guitar solo
ILS bit of a mistake at the start that no one noticed
NIWS All the notes were sung proper and the high ones were hit on the first try.
Driftwood, one good crack.
Somewhere in Halifax. The fog is thick, it looks a cold and murky day out there, and after a brief interlude of internet necessities, we pick ourselves up and off we go. And off comes the rain coat, then the scarf, then the sweater. Any more comes off and we get arrested, or frighten Rock stars, and believe me, I am good at that.
We go to see a broken window in St. Pauls Church. It was broken during the explosion, and each subsequent replacement has broken into the same profile of one of the early rectors. I had read about it in a novel, and needed to see this. We then climb the matterhorn. We take a short cut to avoid the stairs, and end up climbing the hill twice, and during said climb, with ragged breathing and high pitches wheezes of “I am fine” I get shot with a cannon, and jump down the hill. Twelve noon every day there is a ceremonial firing of the Citidel’s cannon. I was there at noon. Good thing I like artillery and loud noises. After that, a fife and drum unit, and bag pipes serenaded us to the summit. Found out we could have taken a taxi. We fight three tour buses filled with tourists to see the guard in his kilt. I am dragged away and pulled down hill, still clawing at the grass to see my kilted dream boat, but as I am old, foreign and dressed like a pirate, it was a good decision by people wiser than me to take me to a converted morgue for lunch. LOVE a morgue. The Five Fishermen is said to be the morgue for the Titanic victims, and the Explosion victims a few years later. Didn’t see any ghosts during lunch, disappointedly, but had a lovely local cider with my meal. We Then hit the mall, and I finally get the hair brush of my dreams.
Sweaty people everywhere the fog and humidity is so oppressive.
Sponging off the dirt of the day and toweling on the face of the night; we leave the car and walk back up the Alps. To the Venue. We have to go up stairs then down stairs to get to our seats, we are also stamped again. What is it this Tour that the venues insist on marking us? I think they are using special ink and are tracing our every move.
The Concert was politely well received. A youngish Baby boomer crowd, forties to sixties in age, with two lovely couples in the front romantically dancing to ILS and NIWS. Much better than the female duos dancing to TOSOL the past two nights. I had been beginning to think that there was another side to life in New England. There still may be, but no one was investigating it in Halifax.
Stand out songs
TDWMA Scorching achingly beautiful guitar solo
ILS bit of a mistake at the start that no one noticed
NIWS All the notes were sung proper and the high ones were hit on the first try.
Driftwood, one good crack.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Wednesday September 14
The Lost day.
I wake up a few miles away from my vacationing cats, still unhappy with my two tour Brushes, and decide to never comb or brush my hair again, than to be disappointed. Crazy cat ladies are not to be crossed with. Even if we cross ourselves.
Woke up the hotel staff in order to not let them pack and load the car, and off we go in search of the first ray of sun to touch the united States each morning. We miss the first one, but caught the fifteenth thru twenty second rays of morning sun, and continued further North and East than anyone in their right minds should go.
If you drive long enough in Maine you start to figure out why they call it the Pine Tree State. We saw a couple of trees. Eventually we needed to stop and feed the dogs, they were tired of pulling the dog sled without any snow. We stopped in Bangor, (I hardly knew her) Maine and I had the best Hash ever. It was no Texas Cream corn but it was close. Opted out of the hair cuts offered during breakfast, but I did notice some people’s hair looked better that they had a few days ago, hmmmm. The rest stop is near the airport, does one fly to Bangor for hash and a haircut? I might someday, that was great hash. And we drove and drove and drove, and saw another pine tree, and a hemlock, and a spruce and a maple and an oak tree. And we went thru towns that had no name. Finally we reached the border, and the most remote location for a Walmart ever, right near the border crossing.
Love the questions we were asked. Thank goodness I left the weaponry at home with the missing hair brush and safety pins, or else who knows what would have happened.
We quickly pick up the lingo, and start reading the road signs in Canadian, and wonder where all the people have gone. They must have gone south to Walmart.
So many signs for Moncton, I just might end up there some day, but today we go to Nova Scotia. New England was named in English, Why is Nova Scotia latin? Are they better than us? The answer is yes. Lovely rolling hills, green corn fields, happy cows and boats. All I need is a man in a kilt and my life is complete.
My wish was granted, there are plaid people everywhere. Turns out they are tour guides, but doubt they can tell me what I want to know.
I find a pub, with real fish and chips, and guiness, I drank so much I forgot to unhitch the dogs from the dog sled, but that is what I have my minions for.
My money is no good here, so I have to go get some that is, and the face on the bills is familiar, I think she was at a recent televised wedding.
There are a lot of people visiting here, with luggage. Mine still smells like clean laundry, I suppose it will start to smell different soon.
And so far, no igloos or ice bergs.
The Lost day.
I wake up a few miles away from my vacationing cats, still unhappy with my two tour Brushes, and decide to never comb or brush my hair again, than to be disappointed. Crazy cat ladies are not to be crossed with. Even if we cross ourselves.
Woke up the hotel staff in order to not let them pack and load the car, and off we go in search of the first ray of sun to touch the united States each morning. We miss the first one, but caught the fifteenth thru twenty second rays of morning sun, and continued further North and East than anyone in their right minds should go.
If you drive long enough in Maine you start to figure out why they call it the Pine Tree State. We saw a couple of trees. Eventually we needed to stop and feed the dogs, they were tired of pulling the dog sled without any snow. We stopped in Bangor, (I hardly knew her) Maine and I had the best Hash ever. It was no Texas Cream corn but it was close. Opted out of the hair cuts offered during breakfast, but I did notice some people’s hair looked better that they had a few days ago, hmmmm. The rest stop is near the airport, does one fly to Bangor for hash and a haircut? I might someday, that was great hash. And we drove and drove and drove, and saw another pine tree, and a hemlock, and a spruce and a maple and an oak tree. And we went thru towns that had no name. Finally we reached the border, and the most remote location for a Walmart ever, right near the border crossing.
Love the questions we were asked. Thank goodness I left the weaponry at home with the missing hair brush and safety pins, or else who knows what would have happened.
We quickly pick up the lingo, and start reading the road signs in Canadian, and wonder where all the people have gone. They must have gone south to Walmart.
So many signs for Moncton, I just might end up there some day, but today we go to Nova Scotia. New England was named in English, Why is Nova Scotia latin? Are they better than us? The answer is yes. Lovely rolling hills, green corn fields, happy cows and boats. All I need is a man in a kilt and my life is complete.
My wish was granted, there are plaid people everywhere. Turns out they are tour guides, but doubt they can tell me what I want to know.
I find a pub, with real fish and chips, and guiness, I drank so much I forgot to unhitch the dogs from the dog sled, but that is what I have my minions for.
My money is no good here, so I have to go get some that is, and the face on the bills is familiar, I think she was at a recent televised wedding.
There are a lot of people visiting here, with luggage. Mine still smells like clean laundry, I suppose it will start to smell different soon.
And so far, no igloos or ice bergs.
Tuesday September 13
Woke up in New Hampshire. As a New Englander, I had to fix that situation soon. Had a hankering for local cuisine, and was chauffeured across the state to the Maine Diner for some blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup. How any restaurant in New England can serve artificial maple flavored table syrup is beyond me, but I was told that there are people who find the natural product overpowering. As an overpowering force myself, I understood. I disagree though. Never can be too overwhelming.
We drive past where my cats have chosen to take their holiday, an onwards to the cobbled and uneven streets of Old Port Portland ME. A fabulous and under rated water front traditional new England town. There was a cruise ship in town, and other exciting events planned for the evening, or so I heard. After an unsatisfying brush to the hair with the unsatisfying brush of the Tour, I set out for an adventure, bringing along my Team for support, three medics and an accountant, as one might get ill or need tabulating. We settle for fresh local produce simmered, sautéed and steamed to perfection, and once again caloric content was negated by the walk. Local mussels in white wine with pine nuts, fresh basils and tomatoes.
Off to have fairy tales told to me by professional vocalists. Complete with facial expressions and hand gestures. Who knew there was so much talent around, like people I hadn’t seen for a few months, vaguely resembling someone I had run into the night before. Then I got close up and personal with inanimate objects. No official receiving line this night for me, all that attention the night before wore me out, I am humble, and shy.
Again, I signal for the house lights to come down, and I conduct the show, secretly and silently making requests for a certain beloved or obscure classic to be played, and getting my wish, song after song, unwaveringly accurate. How do those nice gentlemen and ladies know what I want to hear? Like I might have been caught humming the tunes in public? Or they know my tastes? Spooky.
I actually knew this stage full of folks tonight, and they seemed to know each other, and got along fairly well. Looks improved quite a lot, too. Someone else must have found a better hair brush, I must try to run into them later and ask their secret. Also what rejuvenization methods they use, as they looked less worried by time tonight. Or it was the lights.
Merrill auditorium in Portland City Hall is a lovely older theatre intimate seating and nice sound. A few less of the usual and customary faces in their usual and customary seats, and doing the usual and customary rituals including illuminated synchronized hand dancing, with the added bonus of a flautist reproducing eighties synth solos. Much nicer than the original recording which I never took too, much. To be honest.
No yodeling, a few extra guitar chords but done correctly during the correct songs, and only a few missed words in the lyrics, but no one noticed.
Stand out Songs
Gypsy because it is played only for me
Peak Hour for the same reason
IKOTS because some stared intently at my daughter for enough few brief seconds to “creep her out”
And RMSS because someone else checked her out.
And question because I was smiled at in a warm and personal way.
After My show, we stumbled around the uneven brick sidewalks whick I find charming when in flats, and ended up looking for some place we could not find?
Tried Three Dollar Dewey’s but they were closed.
(one dollar looky, two dolar touchy)
Needed sleep, had to load up the dog sled to find Canada in the Morning.
Woke up in New Hampshire. As a New Englander, I had to fix that situation soon. Had a hankering for local cuisine, and was chauffeured across the state to the Maine Diner for some blueberry pancakes with real maple syrup. How any restaurant in New England can serve artificial maple flavored table syrup is beyond me, but I was told that there are people who find the natural product overpowering. As an overpowering force myself, I understood. I disagree though. Never can be too overwhelming.
We drive past where my cats have chosen to take their holiday, an onwards to the cobbled and uneven streets of Old Port Portland ME. A fabulous and under rated water front traditional new England town. There was a cruise ship in town, and other exciting events planned for the evening, or so I heard. After an unsatisfying brush to the hair with the unsatisfying brush of the Tour, I set out for an adventure, bringing along my Team for support, three medics and an accountant, as one might get ill or need tabulating. We settle for fresh local produce simmered, sautéed and steamed to perfection, and once again caloric content was negated by the walk. Local mussels in white wine with pine nuts, fresh basils and tomatoes.
Off to have fairy tales told to me by professional vocalists. Complete with facial expressions and hand gestures. Who knew there was so much talent around, like people I hadn’t seen for a few months, vaguely resembling someone I had run into the night before. Then I got close up and personal with inanimate objects. No official receiving line this night for me, all that attention the night before wore me out, I am humble, and shy.
Again, I signal for the house lights to come down, and I conduct the show, secretly and silently making requests for a certain beloved or obscure classic to be played, and getting my wish, song after song, unwaveringly accurate. How do those nice gentlemen and ladies know what I want to hear? Like I might have been caught humming the tunes in public? Or they know my tastes? Spooky.
I actually knew this stage full of folks tonight, and they seemed to know each other, and got along fairly well. Looks improved quite a lot, too. Someone else must have found a better hair brush, I must try to run into them later and ask their secret. Also what rejuvenization methods they use, as they looked less worried by time tonight. Or it was the lights.
Merrill auditorium in Portland City Hall is a lovely older theatre intimate seating and nice sound. A few less of the usual and customary faces in their usual and customary seats, and doing the usual and customary rituals including illuminated synchronized hand dancing, with the added bonus of a flautist reproducing eighties synth solos. Much nicer than the original recording which I never took too, much. To be honest.
No yodeling, a few extra guitar chords but done correctly during the correct songs, and only a few missed words in the lyrics, but no one noticed.
Stand out Songs
Gypsy because it is played only for me
Peak Hour for the same reason
IKOTS because some stared intently at my daughter for enough few brief seconds to “creep her out”
And RMSS because someone else checked her out.
And question because I was smiled at in a warm and personal way.
After My show, we stumbled around the uneven brick sidewalks whick I find charming when in flats, and ended up looking for some place we could not find?
Tried Three Dollar Dewey’s but they were closed.
(one dollar looky, two dolar touchy)
Needed sleep, had to load up the dog sled to find Canada in the Morning.
Monday Sept 12, 2011
I wake up much too early for having a day off work. Things to do, places to go. Last minute packing, sorting and decision making, must be able to live with the choices I make now for the next two weeks, no going back for forgotten items, and no money to purchase new.
I pack everything except safety pins and a hair brush. Not a deliberate choice. I drove my car to the place it will rest this Tour. I started to think about the unknown future, wondering what exciting events and experiences I will be fondly remembering on the drive home, or will I be exclaiming “ I can not believe I did that”?
We start off by driving the local roads. It has been a long time since I was the local one hosting the Invasion. Every plane I saw go overhead, I wondered if I knew anyone in it, would everyone arrive safely? Who will get lost on our roads? How will people try to pronounce the local places? What exotic food items will they try?
I sampled the exotic foods and had fried Lobster. Dipped in butter. Completely calorie and cholesterol free.
Checking into the hotel, I realize I once again forgot my hairbrush, as I always seem to do. A brief walk around towm and I have once again not been able to find one I like; unhappy hair for the next two weeks.
Dressed, coiffed, and painted, I strut to the venue, only to be left standing in the sun for two hours before they finally realized who I was, and I was let into the green room, and then had two gentlemen brought to me so that they could meet me. Other people may remember the event differently, but we all have our illusions, and delusions, and in the end, that is what keeps us going.
A hockey rink in New Hampshire at the end of Summer. No ice yet, very hot and humid inside, especially for those of us under the bright lights. I received the greetings and well wishes of all my friends, fans and frenemies. Thank you for your kind words, too many to thank personally, and then I signaled for the show to begin. Because I DO control the universe. Don’t let the others fool you, it is all about me.
Iised my special psychic abilities to communicate what song I wanted to hear next, but the signals crossed somehow, and a few times, there were sour notes sung and harsh chords played, as the Talented Ones tried to pull themselves together. Glue should have been used, not very cohesive, but I love watching them adjust back to the well known and familiar comforting soothing strains of beloved classics. When some of them played at all. Extra notes at times, not enough at others. I counted.
Stand out songs
Lean on Me Never enjoyed it more and probably never will again
Gypsy Everyone showed up for that one
NIWS with the occasional spoken words
Left the show, hot and greasy, as if I had been dipped in mineral oil, and tried to sleep a wee bit before the next adventure.
I wake up much too early for having a day off work. Things to do, places to go. Last minute packing, sorting and decision making, must be able to live with the choices I make now for the next two weeks, no going back for forgotten items, and no money to purchase new.
I pack everything except safety pins and a hair brush. Not a deliberate choice. I drove my car to the place it will rest this Tour. I started to think about the unknown future, wondering what exciting events and experiences I will be fondly remembering on the drive home, or will I be exclaiming “ I can not believe I did that”?
We start off by driving the local roads. It has been a long time since I was the local one hosting the Invasion. Every plane I saw go overhead, I wondered if I knew anyone in it, would everyone arrive safely? Who will get lost on our roads? How will people try to pronounce the local places? What exotic food items will they try?
I sampled the exotic foods and had fried Lobster. Dipped in butter. Completely calorie and cholesterol free.
Checking into the hotel, I realize I once again forgot my hairbrush, as I always seem to do. A brief walk around towm and I have once again not been able to find one I like; unhappy hair for the next two weeks.
Dressed, coiffed, and painted, I strut to the venue, only to be left standing in the sun for two hours before they finally realized who I was, and I was let into the green room, and then had two gentlemen brought to me so that they could meet me. Other people may remember the event differently, but we all have our illusions, and delusions, and in the end, that is what keeps us going.
A hockey rink in New Hampshire at the end of Summer. No ice yet, very hot and humid inside, especially for those of us under the bright lights. I received the greetings and well wishes of all my friends, fans and frenemies. Thank you for your kind words, too many to thank personally, and then I signaled for the show to begin. Because I DO control the universe. Don’t let the others fool you, it is all about me.
Iised my special psychic abilities to communicate what song I wanted to hear next, but the signals crossed somehow, and a few times, there were sour notes sung and harsh chords played, as the Talented Ones tried to pull themselves together. Glue should have been used, not very cohesive, but I love watching them adjust back to the well known and familiar comforting soothing strains of beloved classics. When some of them played at all. Extra notes at times, not enough at others. I counted.
Stand out songs
Lean on Me Never enjoyed it more and probably never will again
Gypsy Everyone showed up for that one
NIWS with the occasional spoken words
Left the show, hot and greasy, as if I had been dipped in mineral oil, and tried to sleep a wee bit before the next adventure.
Tuesday, May 3, 2011
The Drums of Thackerville and Mongolian food
April 30, 2011
Saturday.
Today is the day I have lived for during the past several months. Today is the day I return to Thackerville OK. If you had never been to Thackerville, you have no understanding of what it is like to return there, on purpose.
I enjoyed the ride, the air conditioning decided to work again, and I also got to eat at Waffle House again. I love that place. I took a few breaths in between barely chewing and swallowing. Some people need to rethink their travel arrangements, and come with me, we have more fun.
I did more mooing at the cattle, saw a zebra, more armadillos, and funny road signs. I hummed the theme from Dallas as we took the interstate thru town, ending up in a wide spot in the road somewhere between Dallas and Thackerville.
I also was looking forward to sitting in the sun, and did that, too. Glad I did as it turns out. I primped and painted and managed to squeeze my swollen and blistered feet into my boots, and off we drove to Thackerville, OK. The directions to the casino? Look to the side of the road on the state line.
I ate Mongolian this night. Really, fresh cooked Mongolian food in Oklahoma. Ran into some of the most truly delightful people here, but still we all questioned why we were there.
Well, we were hustled into a large cavernous room, with the familiar set up. This time the aircraft carrier sized empty space in front of the stage was filled with seats. I sat down. I did glance to my front row seat a bit over, and it was occupied by another body. I never wish to make trouble, unless someone needs a good smack, so I sat in a different seat, for the first half, and then a different one for the second half. I hope the person who sat in my front row seat liked it, I sat in a better one, thank you very much.
I thought I heard more plopitylopitly drumming but I was assured by a good authority that the drumming in Thackerville was exactly beat for beat the same as in Houston. But my ears heard different, perhaps it was the reverb, the sound guys did their best, but this giant cavern is not the best shape for sound, and if I stood at a certain angle, my left ear heard the vocal mix from the speakers, and my right ear heard the drums, and they were great drums, I liked the drums, I was once briefly a percussionist, and I love drums. Did I mention how much I loved the drums of Thackerville?
Vocally a good performance, great guitar and keyboards, too. I was compelled to the front of the stage for my encore, and did not need to slug anyone.
I do feel bad that my traveling musician friends have to see me every night, so I am taking the next night off, and hiding in my motel room, off the beaten path, near another strip mall.
Did I mention I like Drums?
Saturday.
Today is the day I have lived for during the past several months. Today is the day I return to Thackerville OK. If you had never been to Thackerville, you have no understanding of what it is like to return there, on purpose.
I enjoyed the ride, the air conditioning decided to work again, and I also got to eat at Waffle House again. I love that place. I took a few breaths in between barely chewing and swallowing. Some people need to rethink their travel arrangements, and come with me, we have more fun.
I did more mooing at the cattle, saw a zebra, more armadillos, and funny road signs. I hummed the theme from Dallas as we took the interstate thru town, ending up in a wide spot in the road somewhere between Dallas and Thackerville.
I also was looking forward to sitting in the sun, and did that, too. Glad I did as it turns out. I primped and painted and managed to squeeze my swollen and blistered feet into my boots, and off we drove to Thackerville, OK. The directions to the casino? Look to the side of the road on the state line.
I ate Mongolian this night. Really, fresh cooked Mongolian food in Oklahoma. Ran into some of the most truly delightful people here, but still we all questioned why we were there.
Well, we were hustled into a large cavernous room, with the familiar set up. This time the aircraft carrier sized empty space in front of the stage was filled with seats. I sat down. I did glance to my front row seat a bit over, and it was occupied by another body. I never wish to make trouble, unless someone needs a good smack, so I sat in a different seat, for the first half, and then a different one for the second half. I hope the person who sat in my front row seat liked it, I sat in a better one, thank you very much.
I thought I heard more plopitylopitly drumming but I was assured by a good authority that the drumming in Thackerville was exactly beat for beat the same as in Houston. But my ears heard different, perhaps it was the reverb, the sound guys did their best, but this giant cavern is not the best shape for sound, and if I stood at a certain angle, my left ear heard the vocal mix from the speakers, and my right ear heard the drums, and they were great drums, I liked the drums, I was once briefly a percussionist, and I love drums. Did I mention how much I loved the drums of Thackerville?
Vocally a good performance, great guitar and keyboards, too. I was compelled to the front of the stage for my encore, and did not need to slug anyone.
I do feel bad that my traveling musician friends have to see me every night, so I am taking the next night off, and hiding in my motel room, off the beaten path, near another strip mall.
Did I mention I like Drums?
Monday, May 2, 2011
Houston we have no problems
April 29, 2011
Friday, they tell me. I only know I need to get to Houston. Two hotel rooms were packed into five suitcases, and then five suitcases and four lovely ladies, well three ladies and me, were packed into a motor vehicle. Not the largest one available at the time, but the only one that we were allowed to use. Some people need to rethink the meaning of the word entourage. Like me.
Two GPS sat nav’s going, with the American female and the British male voices giving alternating commands. They did get into it and bicker a few times. She said, “slight left one half mile on left”, and he said, “ahead, turn left in 400 yards” We took bets to see which one would respond first. He got us there better than her.
We get to another hotel, and sneak in. Who can afford pesky hotel bills? We need to give our money to better causes. Half price beer and a quesadilla for me, to go with the breakfast taco I had had earlier. Cant eat like this in Boston. And I shouldn’t eat like this anywhere.
A shower with smelly hotel soap, that did not do much to cover the odor of goat in the hallways. Makes you wonder how the smell of goat got into the hotel. But it was goat, I assure you. And not me. I go for a walk along a waterway, and find myself in a festival atmosphere.
I am greeted by polite wonderful people, and I avoid the weird ones that are talking to themselves. I think I am fairly clever, going from place to place, with the help of friends and companions, but one wonders how these odd ducks do it. Maybe I am not so clever after all. Nahh, I am clever.
I get a seat in the last row. Or at least the 6th row of the orchestra pit. There is a fence behind me, and a few thousand people behind the fence, and I thank them for buying the concert tickets, to sponsor the Band and me to come here, but once the lights go down, the heck with them, it is all about me. I like the music, I like the lights, I like the winks and waves from the stage, even the ones directed at me, should someone want to wink at me. HINT.
The lights and sound were amazing. Great job crew. This was the first outdoor concert I have been to since last summer, at Danbury CT, and I was just glad to be wearing sandals. And other items of clothing. And especially glad to be not getting rained upon. Tequila afterwards, to round out my day of eating Mexican, and a good nights sleep, with only the slightest of snoring.
No one noticed any of the mis sung lyrics. And there was less vocal issues, it was a lovely night. And no one tried to tackle me. I even did a glow stick, thank you girls for doing that, it did look good from my seat.
To answer that question asked of me by a nice couple who were awed by someone’s having been to 80 concerts, I really have lost count, but 300 + is about right.
How many times can one person hear NIWS sung live? As many as she can and as many as he will do, that is how many.
No, I havent ever gotten tired of it. No it is not the same every night. No I M NOT ANYONES GIRLFRIEND. Why on earth would someone ask me that? Do I look like someone’s girlfriend?
Houston, we had no problems.
Friday, they tell me. I only know I need to get to Houston. Two hotel rooms were packed into five suitcases, and then five suitcases and four lovely ladies, well three ladies and me, were packed into a motor vehicle. Not the largest one available at the time, but the only one that we were allowed to use. Some people need to rethink the meaning of the word entourage. Like me.
Two GPS sat nav’s going, with the American female and the British male voices giving alternating commands. They did get into it and bicker a few times. She said, “slight left one half mile on left”, and he said, “ahead, turn left in 400 yards” We took bets to see which one would respond first. He got us there better than her.
We get to another hotel, and sneak in. Who can afford pesky hotel bills? We need to give our money to better causes. Half price beer and a quesadilla for me, to go with the breakfast taco I had had earlier. Cant eat like this in Boston. And I shouldn’t eat like this anywhere.
A shower with smelly hotel soap, that did not do much to cover the odor of goat in the hallways. Makes you wonder how the smell of goat got into the hotel. But it was goat, I assure you. And not me. I go for a walk along a waterway, and find myself in a festival atmosphere.
I am greeted by polite wonderful people, and I avoid the weird ones that are talking to themselves. I think I am fairly clever, going from place to place, with the help of friends and companions, but one wonders how these odd ducks do it. Maybe I am not so clever after all. Nahh, I am clever.
I get a seat in the last row. Or at least the 6th row of the orchestra pit. There is a fence behind me, and a few thousand people behind the fence, and I thank them for buying the concert tickets, to sponsor the Band and me to come here, but once the lights go down, the heck with them, it is all about me. I like the music, I like the lights, I like the winks and waves from the stage, even the ones directed at me, should someone want to wink at me. HINT.
The lights and sound were amazing. Great job crew. This was the first outdoor concert I have been to since last summer, at Danbury CT, and I was just glad to be wearing sandals. And other items of clothing. And especially glad to be not getting rained upon. Tequila afterwards, to round out my day of eating Mexican, and a good nights sleep, with only the slightest of snoring.
No one noticed any of the mis sung lyrics. And there was less vocal issues, it was a lovely night. And no one tried to tackle me. I even did a glow stick, thank you girls for doing that, it did look good from my seat.
To answer that question asked of me by a nice couple who were awed by someone’s having been to 80 concerts, I really have lost count, but 300 + is about right.
How many times can one person hear NIWS sung live? As many as she can and as many as he will do, that is how many.
No, I havent ever gotten tired of it. No it is not the same every night. No I M NOT ANYONES GIRLFRIEND. Why on earth would someone ask me that? Do I look like someone’s girlfriend?
Houston, we had no problems.
Going to Texas. Austin, Texas.
April 28 2011
I wake up before dawn, in a still steamy city. Nothing for me here anymore. I had thoroughly trashed my hotel room during my stay, staying true to the spirit of rock and roll, and now needed to pack my carry on bag with all the accoutrements needed by such a star as me.
We leave our fabulously well appointed accommodations, with a deep sigh of relief by the staff I am sure, after all that debauchery, the likes of which had never been seen in such a grand old city such as New Orleans, and head to the west. I was assured that I might find something fun to do if I go to the Capitol of Texas. How far can that be? Coming from New England, one can drive thru several states in a few hours, but down here we travel several hours and still are in the same state. Armadillos! Dead ones. Little dinosaurs littering the road. We don’t get that in Boston. I also see oil wells, corn fields, and a lot of cows. The hanging out of the car window and mooing back at them got old after a while, and I was threatened with expulsion from the car. But we needed my humor later, when road fatique set in, I had to sing and dance to entertain us to keep us awake.
We arrive at our home for the next few hours, with runny faces and wild hair, and smelling like the armadillos. This lovely little place took one look at us, shuffled us away from the desk and hustled us to our room. The presidential suite. I did think of showering with my clothes on, to save on the laundry, but was talked out of it. Once again I open up my bag of tricks and transform myself into a glamorous female any famous person would want draped upon their arm.
Austin is famous for it’s bats, and I desperate wanted to stop and watch, but I was told I was too much competition and they wouldn’t come out if I was there. But we parked the tired car in a shady spot and went for a walk. Saw a sculpture that some said looked like a tonsil, or a light bulb, my dirty mind thought the hanging sac like object looked a bit anatomical, and not of my anatomy. Punish me.
I once again found myself being greeted by name, met some lovely people, reacquainted myself with others. I should get to Texas more often, I know so many people here.
I am given direction to get to my seat, and the lights go down, and the place is filled with the sounds of guitars, drums, keyboards, vocals, oh my. Never heard anything like this before. At least not this night. I sit in another seat the next half. Shades of Bournemouth during H&H, as the right half was up and the left was not. I was on the right. Good thing I had left the left, I would have stood out standing up.
Not perfect, the enthusiasm was visible, at least to the third row, but waxed and waned thru the night. Like the tide slowly turning. No one noticed any mistakes, at least, not to speak of. I was not wearing any socks. Some people were. Just thought I would throw that out there.
There was one large female in a dress that threatened to fall, Both her and her precariously worn dress, exposing something I did not want to see, but men might have liked seeing, shades of Santa Rosa here, and she was flailing around, and pushed me into a dear friend, then continued to elbow me in the face and head, and almost knocked me over several times. And she should rethink the amount of deodorant she applies next time she leaves the house. And her food choices, we wont mention Garlic. She assaulted me In front of those fellows whose names I forget, but have become so dear to me. I like to embarrass myself thank you, I do not need assistance I was unaware that concert going in Texas was both a competition and contact sport. That hurt. I am alright, and maybe I slugged her back, maybe by accident. Times like these I miss Red.
We saunter around, take a leisurely drive back to the strip mall motel, and blow kisses to the odd people who inhabit the area.
Eye shades, ear plugs, and a brush of the teeth and a good night.
WOW I am in Texas, y'all.
I wake up before dawn, in a still steamy city. Nothing for me here anymore. I had thoroughly trashed my hotel room during my stay, staying true to the spirit of rock and roll, and now needed to pack my carry on bag with all the accoutrements needed by such a star as me.
We leave our fabulously well appointed accommodations, with a deep sigh of relief by the staff I am sure, after all that debauchery, the likes of which had never been seen in such a grand old city such as New Orleans, and head to the west. I was assured that I might find something fun to do if I go to the Capitol of Texas. How far can that be? Coming from New England, one can drive thru several states in a few hours, but down here we travel several hours and still are in the same state. Armadillos! Dead ones. Little dinosaurs littering the road. We don’t get that in Boston. I also see oil wells, corn fields, and a lot of cows. The hanging out of the car window and mooing back at them got old after a while, and I was threatened with expulsion from the car. But we needed my humor later, when road fatique set in, I had to sing and dance to entertain us to keep us awake.
We arrive at our home for the next few hours, with runny faces and wild hair, and smelling like the armadillos. This lovely little place took one look at us, shuffled us away from the desk and hustled us to our room. The presidential suite. I did think of showering with my clothes on, to save on the laundry, but was talked out of it. Once again I open up my bag of tricks and transform myself into a glamorous female any famous person would want draped upon their arm.
Austin is famous for it’s bats, and I desperate wanted to stop and watch, but I was told I was too much competition and they wouldn’t come out if I was there. But we parked the tired car in a shady spot and went for a walk. Saw a sculpture that some said looked like a tonsil, or a light bulb, my dirty mind thought the hanging sac like object looked a bit anatomical, and not of my anatomy. Punish me.
I once again found myself being greeted by name, met some lovely people, reacquainted myself with others. I should get to Texas more often, I know so many people here.
I am given direction to get to my seat, and the lights go down, and the place is filled with the sounds of guitars, drums, keyboards, vocals, oh my. Never heard anything like this before. At least not this night. I sit in another seat the next half. Shades of Bournemouth during H&H, as the right half was up and the left was not. I was on the right. Good thing I had left the left, I would have stood out standing up.
Not perfect, the enthusiasm was visible, at least to the third row, but waxed and waned thru the night. Like the tide slowly turning. No one noticed any mistakes, at least, not to speak of. I was not wearing any socks. Some people were. Just thought I would throw that out there.
There was one large female in a dress that threatened to fall, Both her and her precariously worn dress, exposing something I did not want to see, but men might have liked seeing, shades of Santa Rosa here, and she was flailing around, and pushed me into a dear friend, then continued to elbow me in the face and head, and almost knocked me over several times. And she should rethink the amount of deodorant she applies next time she leaves the house. And her food choices, we wont mention Garlic. She assaulted me In front of those fellows whose names I forget, but have become so dear to me. I like to embarrass myself thank you, I do not need assistance I was unaware that concert going in Texas was both a competition and contact sport. That hurt. I am alright, and maybe I slugged her back, maybe by accident. Times like these I miss Red.
We saunter around, take a leisurely drive back to the strip mall motel, and blow kisses to the odd people who inhabit the area.
Eye shades, ear plugs, and a brush of the teeth and a good night.
WOW I am in Texas, y'all.
Sunday, May 1, 2011
April 27, 2011 The PM
Sobering up, sadly, and running into familiar faces, I decide that being in a jazz and blues mecca, I should venture out looking for jazz and/or Blues.
So, I follow instructions given to me, heading out for the promisingly named Mahalia Jackson Theater of the performing Arts. There was a Blues Band playing there. I could use a good night of ear ringing loud music, haven’t had a good night like that since when? I know I was in some city that began with the letter A, and took a few airplanes to get there.
So this night, I paint myself up and parade myself over to this theater in a dodgy area, not like the fun city I have been bouncing around. I get the blister of the century, and now am walking with a worse gait than usual, forgive me, I know I look funny, leave me alone. We were lucky we made it out alive.
I go to the box office, which was not box shaped at all, and a nice lady said to me “mayhapya? And she handed me a ticket. Next thing you know I am being led around the back and out onto a stage. I did not tell them I could sing or play, I hope I was not being asked to perform. Oddly familiar, this place, yet I have never been here before, or have I? People seemed to know me and looked glad to see me. HMMMMM.
Questions asked by people who paid a lot of money to be there were not limited to but included “who is the guitar player” “how many guitar players are there” “What albums do they do”
I start running into people I know. Who would believe that we all show up on a random day in Louisiana? I still think I am being framed. Well, I make myself to my seat, and there is the stage, so like the one I saw over in Europe. Blues Band?
They did have funny accents and one played a Jazz bass, so I suppose that in the spirit of the world I was not mislead. I got all caught up in the evening, the lights the smoke machine that was looking for my car, the familiar shirts and shoes, and oh look, it is them fellows and gals that follow me everywhere. What a pleasant surprise, someone should have warned me.
Things go smoothly, tightly and sound just like the records, only better. Until, there was something new added, threw us all off, I agreed that it had never been done publicly before, and told the nice man in the middle afterwards that it was “perfect” I even knew the words, love the parts about the river, I am attracted to songs with water elements in them, among other things that attract me. Might try to get lucky and hear this again some time in the distant future.
Everyone looked well, rested, confident and happy. I hope I look the same to them, but what does it matter, really, we all play our part right from the start, and I hope to go on to the end.
Sobering up, sadly, and running into familiar faces, I decide that being in a jazz and blues mecca, I should venture out looking for jazz and/or Blues.
So, I follow instructions given to me, heading out for the promisingly named Mahalia Jackson Theater of the performing Arts. There was a Blues Band playing there. I could use a good night of ear ringing loud music, haven’t had a good night like that since when? I know I was in some city that began with the letter A, and took a few airplanes to get there.
So this night, I paint myself up and parade myself over to this theater in a dodgy area, not like the fun city I have been bouncing around. I get the blister of the century, and now am walking with a worse gait than usual, forgive me, I know I look funny, leave me alone. We were lucky we made it out alive.
I go to the box office, which was not box shaped at all, and a nice lady said to me “mayhapya? And she handed me a ticket. Next thing you know I am being led around the back and out onto a stage. I did not tell them I could sing or play, I hope I was not being asked to perform. Oddly familiar, this place, yet I have never been here before, or have I? People seemed to know me and looked glad to see me. HMMMMM.
Questions asked by people who paid a lot of money to be there were not limited to but included “who is the guitar player” “how many guitar players are there” “What albums do they do”
I start running into people I know. Who would believe that we all show up on a random day in Louisiana? I still think I am being framed. Well, I make myself to my seat, and there is the stage, so like the one I saw over in Europe. Blues Band?
They did have funny accents and one played a Jazz bass, so I suppose that in the spirit of the world I was not mislead. I got all caught up in the evening, the lights the smoke machine that was looking for my car, the familiar shirts and shoes, and oh look, it is them fellows and gals that follow me everywhere. What a pleasant surprise, someone should have warned me.
Things go smoothly, tightly and sound just like the records, only better. Until, there was something new added, threw us all off, I agreed that it had never been done publicly before, and told the nice man in the middle afterwards that it was “perfect” I even knew the words, love the parts about the river, I am attracted to songs with water elements in them, among other things that attract me. Might try to get lucky and hear this again some time in the distant future.
Everyone looked well, rested, confident and happy. I hope I look the same to them, but what does it matter, really, we all play our part right from the start, and I hope to go on to the end.
Wednesday, April 27, 2011
April 27 in the am
Wednesday April 27, 2011
Once again, I awake in the morning after way too much free flowing champagne and wall to wall rock stars. Or a really good drea, like where would I find rock stars and free liquor, except in dreams.
A quick primp and I am off for another breakfast of pastry and coffee. How about a walk? Ok I say and off we go, down by the river. The heavy warm air feels good again today, and the thick cloud cover makes the ghosts wandering the streets more visible. The French quarter is difficult to describe. If you like orderly straight modern buildings, keep away. If you like things lumpy, bumpy and smelly it is a fabulous place.We wander around, smelling things, and crossing the street to avoid the foul odors, and wandering into the shops to smell the good ones.
Surprisingly by 10 am, our walk was complete, we had seen the Mighty Mississippi and were in need of libation. A mint Julep was procured and forced upon me, and I was further coerced into more adventures that given on my own I would never do. Never ever would I think of doing any of this on my own. We enjoy the magic of the steamy morning, people enjoying breakfast, as we get another beer. I am sure that Voodoo played its part in my day. As I planned my future before my present took place, I came down with a case of the insane giggles, and sang along with the banjo player to “Bill Bailey” Who knew I knew the words? I certainly didn’t, as I also did not know I knew as much of “Waltzing Matilda” as I did. All done in a Cajun Zydeco rhythm. I had another drink.
Lunch, chicken gumbo and chocolate raspberry mousse, skipping the champagne as I sobered up, ready to type this up and find a place to zip it out to you’ all.
Let the good times roll.
Once again, I awake in the morning after way too much free flowing champagne and wall to wall rock stars. Or a really good drea, like where would I find rock stars and free liquor, except in dreams.
A quick primp and I am off for another breakfast of pastry and coffee. How about a walk? Ok I say and off we go, down by the river. The heavy warm air feels good again today, and the thick cloud cover makes the ghosts wandering the streets more visible. The French quarter is difficult to describe. If you like orderly straight modern buildings, keep away. If you like things lumpy, bumpy and smelly it is a fabulous place.We wander around, smelling things, and crossing the street to avoid the foul odors, and wandering into the shops to smell the good ones.
Surprisingly by 10 am, our walk was complete, we had seen the Mighty Mississippi and were in need of libation. A mint Julep was procured and forced upon me, and I was further coerced into more adventures that given on my own I would never do. Never ever would I think of doing any of this on my own. We enjoy the magic of the steamy morning, people enjoying breakfast, as we get another beer. I am sure that Voodoo played its part in my day. As I planned my future before my present took place, I came down with a case of the insane giggles, and sang along with the banjo player to “Bill Bailey” Who knew I knew the words? I certainly didn’t, as I also did not know I knew as much of “Waltzing Matilda” as I did. All done in a Cajun Zydeco rhythm. I had another drink.
Lunch, chicken gumbo and chocolate raspberry mousse, skipping the champagne as I sobered up, ready to type this up and find a place to zip it out to you’ all.
Let the good times roll.
Tuesday, April 26, 2011
April 25, 2011
Who would believe that I would still want to be out traveling after all this time? ME. I love every aspect of it all. The packing, the transportation arrangements, all of it.
I awoke shortly after midnight to begin my day. Finished packing, the last minute shoving of items thru the zipper into the suitcase, the hopping around hoping not to forget anything. (So far, one hairbrush). I officially leave the real world and enter the world of Touring. I experienced my first full body scan. Disappointing really. No one ran screaming from security, nor did I get any propositions. I have spoken with folks who cite this scan as a reason to no longer fly, Bahh, nothing to it. My first connecting flight was uneventful, as they all should be. I love my Iphone, watched a movie all by myself. Spent some time in Atlanta, got a piece of chicken, and got my second flight. I had the same seat, and this flight was full of some lively ones, loud talk and laughter. And I line to the restroom, which my seat was conveniently near. Some people should rethink their food choices if they are to be with the public in tight quarters, but that paled in comparison with the lady next to me on the hotel shuttle that had the odor of knockwurst about her. We drove around town, got a quick tour from the driver, dropped off a few at their hotels, and then came to mine. I got some looks regarding my lodging choice, but heck, we all have to stay somewhere.
Hot, really hot, with a hot humid wind blowing, really blowing, and the sun beating down. Coming from a cold climate that is still struggling with the remains of winter, still with snow around, I found this to be a shocking pleasure. No need for a coat, heck, no need for most clothing items, but as it was told to us by our bus driver, public nudity is illegal here. So I got dressed again. That body scan liberated me.
Enjoyed my first afternoon and evening, had a drink, ate some interesting foods, had a cookie. Fell asleep instantly, and awoke wide awake, ready to see what this day, week, Tour brings to me. I am ready.
Who would believe that I would still want to be out traveling after all this time? ME. I love every aspect of it all. The packing, the transportation arrangements, all of it.
I awoke shortly after midnight to begin my day. Finished packing, the last minute shoving of items thru the zipper into the suitcase, the hopping around hoping not to forget anything. (So far, one hairbrush). I officially leave the real world and enter the world of Touring. I experienced my first full body scan. Disappointing really. No one ran screaming from security, nor did I get any propositions. I have spoken with folks who cite this scan as a reason to no longer fly, Bahh, nothing to it. My first connecting flight was uneventful, as they all should be. I love my Iphone, watched a movie all by myself. Spent some time in Atlanta, got a piece of chicken, and got my second flight. I had the same seat, and this flight was full of some lively ones, loud talk and laughter. And I line to the restroom, which my seat was conveniently near. Some people should rethink their food choices if they are to be with the public in tight quarters, but that paled in comparison with the lady next to me on the hotel shuttle that had the odor of knockwurst about her. We drove around town, got a quick tour from the driver, dropped off a few at their hotels, and then came to mine. I got some looks regarding my lodging choice, but heck, we all have to stay somewhere.
Hot, really hot, with a hot humid wind blowing, really blowing, and the sun beating down. Coming from a cold climate that is still struggling with the remains of winter, still with snow around, I found this to be a shocking pleasure. No need for a coat, heck, no need for most clothing items, but as it was told to us by our bus driver, public nudity is illegal here. So I got dressed again. That body scan liberated me.
Enjoyed my first afternoon and evening, had a drink, ate some interesting foods, had a cookie. Fell asleep instantly, and awoke wide awake, ready to see what this day, week, Tour brings to me. I am ready.
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