Getting There…
(For anyone interested in hearing some of Marillion’s work, you can go directly to their website at http://www.marillion.com/music/racket/crash.htm and either get a free CD sent to you or you can simply download it…again, all for free. What have you got to lose?)
(NOTE: All quotes listed in these articles are to the very best of my memory and are not to be taken verbatim. Set lists are also via memory, and whereas I’m pretty confident that I have all the songs listed here, the nightly order might be slightly out of whack.
Also, for those of you that are Marillion fans and want to read about the music side of things, you may want to skip ahead; for those of you that are more interested in my sometimes amusing day to day drama’s, do the exact opposite.)
The Background
I’ve been a Marillion fan for more than half of my life. That seems slightly odd to say, really. I mean, I know I’m getting up there in years of age but still, it’s strange when your fan-dom years start to outnumber your non-fan years. I jumped on the bandwagon (pardon the pun) back in very early 1989, first listening to the “Misplaced Childhood” album. Within the next 6 months I owned all of their albums, of which there were 4 proper total at that time. I was fortunate enough to enjoy a short stint of being a Marillion fan when Fish was still more or less the lead singer but then was there through the entire transition to new lead singer Steve Hogarth. At the time of the transition, I remember commenting how this might be similar to what it was like for Genesis fans to transition from Peter Gabriel to Phil Collins in the 1975-76 era. To say I was correct is an understatement since Marillion’s diehard fan base has only grown larger and much stronger over the years.
Marillion is probably one of the best (or most unfortunate, depending upon how you look at it) kept secrets in modern music, the band by which all others should be compared, and yet still so very few people have actually ever heard of them or heard them proper. They’ve basically done it all; epic progressive styled tunes that last an entire side of an album, the most irresistible pop radio oriented tunes imaginable, and they simply keep on reinventing themselves and their sound with each new release. I’ve been lucky enough to have seen them 3 times over the past 20 years but still, when I heard that they would be holding the first ever Marillion Weekend in North America, I really couldn’t resist wanting to attend.
Marillion Weekends have been held overseas for quite awhile now although I can’t quite recall when I first read about them. Marillion, in general, tours for every album, you see, but only make it across the Atlantic every 4-6 years, mostly due to budget constraints, and so North American fans are at quite a disadvantage. This first ever North American Marillion Weekend boasted 3 nights in a row of Marillion live, with completely different songs each night and a performance more or less tailored for the hardcore fans, and so how could any diehard in their right mind refuse to attend? Well, I couldn’t, at least.
The good and the bad news: Montreal was chosen as the site for the “fan convention”. This isn’t exactly bad news except that for any US citizen it most likely meant a plane ride versus a cheaper priced drive. I was a little skeptic at first, I must admit. I mean, traveling to a different country to watch a band play? Sure, I know, it’s only Canada…that’s not a foreign country…or is it?
I booked my trip sometime around October of 2008. I was kind of on the fence for awhile since the airfare seemed really overpriced. A one hundred dollar off coupon finally pushed me over the edge, making me book the trip. It was still a bit pricey but seemed worth it.
Now, fast forward to the present time…a few things have changed. First off, I was layed-off from my job in February and money isn’t exactly free flowing at this point. I debated even going. I could have canceled and at least been credited back with the majority of my money. In the end I decided to go but still, quite a drag to be on a pseudo vacation of sorts knowing that you’re out of work.
On top of that, due to a variety of circumstances, I hadn’t slept well in about 3-4 days and was suffering from, shall we say, stomach issues of a sort, and so I wasn’t feeling the greatest either. By the time the day came to board the plane I was definitely not feeling myself and, mixed with the mild anxiety of going to a place that’s completely unfamiliar to me, I was already worn out to some extent.
Take Off, Eh???
I’m notorious for being late to the airport for trips. This time, ironically, everything went according to plan: I was awake when I should have been, I was packed, and I was ready to go. I got to the airport right on time and everything went smoothly…until I sat in the plane on the runway for 20 minutes.
Normally, this wouldn’t be a big deal except that NWA World Vacations spaced my connecting flight with only a whopping 30 minute interval in between. I had to change planes in Cincinnati and I was trying to remember the setup of that airport in order to gauge how close or far my other gate could possibly be. Could it be possible that my other flight’s gate would be near this one? Probably not, especially considering that my next flight was international.
We finally took off and it ended up being a little earlier than the pilot originally thought. Once in the air, the captain claimed that we’d more than likely make up the time during the flight. Even the flight attendants announced that this flight team was notoriously arriving very early and so not to worry if timing was of a concern. As we flew closer and closer to Cincinnati the captain repeated that we’d be getting there earlier and earlier until…well, I don’t know how, but we ended up landing at 1:50pm, 20 minutes later than our scheduled arrival, and my connecting flight departed at 2:05pm. To make matters worse, again, thanks to NWA World Vacations booking system, I was in the very last row of the plane. Also adding to my discomfort, I was now suffering from a very full bladder and I wouldn’t have time to empty it, that is, unless I missed my plane.
I got the flight attendant’s attention and explained my predicament. She was close to absolutely no help whatsoever. I asked if she could find out if my connecting flight might also be delayed, therefore eliminating the time crunch. Again, I received a flat out “no”. The woman sitting next to me then suggested that I try and make my way down the aisle as soon as the plane stops, in order to get a jump on exiting the plane. It was a great idea and so I went with it, making it at least half the way to the front. Patiently (okay, impatiently) I waited as people slowly exited out of the large capsule. Eventually, I was inside the terminal and my watch now read 1:56pm.
This is the part where I power walked, with bulging bladder, who knows how far. Yes, of course, my connecting flight was as far away as possible. I didn’t think that was possible in a smaller airport but it was! I even had to go down an escalator and make my way over to the other concourse. I walked as fast as I could but again, not feeling the greatest, my body wasn’t cooperating. It also didn’t help that I had been sitting idle for more than 2 hours and was now asking my body to exert energy in full force. The clock ticked furiously and I walked, ran a little, and then finally made it to the gate at 2:02pm. The lady behind the counter looked slightly afraid as I ran up to her, panting like a dog, asthmatically out of breath, sweating profusely, and just managing to squeak out, “…flight to Montreal?”
The woman behind the desk calmly smiled, “Oh yes, we haven’t boarded yet. Glad you made it, though.” As you may have guessed, I didn’t check the departure boards because, well, I didn’t really have time. Had I done that and the plane was leaving on schedule I would have missed it. I was bound to lose either way!
I caught my breath, used the restroom, and then sat down, waiting for the word to board. We left an hour late in the end and arrived in Montreal at around 5pm.
Once I retrieved my luggage, I needed to find the place to buy a ticket for the L’Aerobus, a bus that basically takes travelers to and from the airport over to the Central Bus Station in downtown Montreal. I searched all over the terminal but it was nowhere to be found. I even got out the airport brochure and followed the instructions closely…still nowhere to be found. I finally broke down and asked a policeman of sorts. I approached him and he greeted me with a loud, “Bonjour!” I asked where the L’Aerobus ticket booth was and he turned around and pointed outside, directly behind him. Yes, sure enough, the booth was outside of the terminal! A minor detail that they failed to mention.
I bought my ticket and boarded the bus. The bus driver was a large stocky man with a shaved head who seemed friendly enough. Another American boarded the bus a few moments later and asked the driver a question. He responded using a great French accent, “Oui! Eet is alright, madame! Montreal ees a very safe place!”
The bus left the airport at 6pm and, just for the record, the doors opened for the show at 7pm with the show starting at 8pm. I was about 2 hours later than I had planned for and so it was becoming crunch time. Due to the hour, there was also traffic and so the bus ride took the promised 45 minutes time. Once at the Central Bus Station, I wasn’t out of the woods yet since I still needed to get to the hotel. I had 2 choices: the L’Aerobus offered a free shuttle to nearby hotels, or I could attempt to find the nearest Metro Station in a panic and attempt to navigate the process for buying the appropriate tourist pass ticket. I opted for the shuttle.
I felt even better about it once I boarded the shuttle since there were only 3 other groups that needed to be dropped off. This good feeling quickly evaporated, though, when it started to become apparent that I was to be the last one dropped off. Even worse, the second group of people to disembark seemed to be staying at a hotel quite a ways away. I finally reached my hotel at 7pm and I still hadn’t eaten anything since 8am that morning. No luck, I tell you!
I checked in, frantically grabbed a quiche and salad at the next door café, and darted up to my room. I devoured my food as quickly as possible, changed my clothes, and once again was off. Still fearing the whole Metro ordeal, I made yet another bad decision and decided to walk to the Theatre L’Olympia. It of course ended up being further than I expected and my legs were already aching due to the power walk earlier. I did finally make it inside the theater almost exactly at 8pm and was overjoyed to see that I could still make my way up towards the front of the stage. I had made it and I was here!
To be continued…
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