Yes, it’s finally happened; I’m no longer receiving Christmas cards. I received exactly 2 this year which is actually slightly higher than I expected, to be quite frank. I also finally gave up sending them out since I was repeatedly hearing comments like “you still send out cards?” and “who sends out cards these days?” And so, like a fool, I caved.
Ah, yes, remember the good ol’ days? Yes, you know you’re getting old when more and more sentences begin with those undeniable words.
The weird part is that, unlike music now being listened to most frequently on those little annoying portable devices, nothing has taken the place of Xmas cards. It’s not like we’re sending out e-Xmas cards or anything. We’re just not doing anything at all.
Add to this the fact that the post office is in dire need of cash and constantly threatening us to discontinue certain services, days of the week, and so on. It seems to me that the post office NEEDS Xmas cards. Doesn’t that sort of make it un-American not to send them?
And yet, still, here I am, as guilty as most everyone else, not sending them. Sigh. I’ve never been big on caving in to peer pressure but for some reason, on this issue, I have. I feel like a traitor.
In the meantime, I’ll fondly remember the days when a simple little $1 card told me nonchalantly that someone else in this large world of ours was actually thinking about me.
Isn’t it oh so ironic that the more ways we have to communicate, the less we do? That’s technology for you. Don’t be surprised if even Santa one day soon stays home and uses his new IPAD app to deliver gifts to the kids. Ugh.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Just Call Me Mister No Pants
I don’t know what the heck is wrong with me these days. It’s almost like I’ve forgotten how to dress myself. Upon recently taking a job where I can no longer where jeans and a t-shirt to work, I’m completely lost on how to look and dress like a grown up and/or buy clothes that fit me appropriately.
I’m specifically having issues in the pants department. I personally can’t stand “khakis”, I mean, even the term itself makes me cringe every time I say or write it, hence the quotes. Ick! Shivers of unrest just went up and down my spine. Yes, it’s that bad.
Some guys look perfectly fine in, um, the k word. I don’t. I don’t know what it is about me exactly but my body shape, even during the best of times, makes me look like a total idiot when I’m wearing them. They flare out in the pocket area, tend to hang off my knee caps as if I’m a child wearing his father’s oversized clothes, and so on. Even worse, they buckle in strange areas in a rather abnormal fashion, especially in the, well, crotch area. They’re simply the most uncomfortable and dorky looking thing, on me at least, that I can possibly wear, hence my distaste for them.
Dress pants, however, look reasonably decent on me but they present a whole new issue. Dress pants are like wearing no pants at all and feel closer to thin pajama bottoms, swinging around my ankles like some bizarre bedtime bell bottoms. I also tend to wear my fake vegan Doc Marten shoes mostly to work and they look a bit odd with dress pants. I would wear regular dress shoes but my feet are a whole different issue. Getting older sucks, let me tell you.
And so, to solve the pant issue, I found a Docker (even that word makes me cringe) brand pant that’s sort of a hybrid between khaki’s and jeans. This seemed like the perfect solution, no? Well, it kind of was…until merely days after buying one pair and then going to see Al Stewart at the Dakota Jazz Club. After getting him to sign an album cover that I intended to add to my wall collection, he forgot to firmly put the cap back on my marker…which I nonchalantly jammed into my pants pocket, ink side down. It was about 2 hours later that I noticed that the marker had bled through my pants. Ugh. Thanks, Al.
I bought another pair of these hybrid pants in a darker color, the same size, etc. I made a mental note not to carry any more markers in my pants with the lids off. I washed the pants, put them on, and guess what? Now they’re just a bit too short. Yes, that’s right, folks, I wear high waters to work each week.
Why not just buy new pants, you’re asking? Well, I’m at that infamous point right now where I’m heavier than I’d like to be and I keep hoping to change that any day. Of course, I’ve been saying this for the past year and a half, but I know that as soon as I spend more money on pants, they’ll no longer fit me and I’ll have to start all over yet again. This is just how my luck works. Therefore, I keep waiting to buy new pants for that special day when I can once again downsize.
In the meantime, my choices are pants with a big black marker stain, pants tailor made for walking through shallow puddles, dorky looking pants that stick out in various areas, making me look more endowed than I am, or pajama bottoms.
Ah, screw it. I’m just going to go pants-less from now. That’ll show ‘em.
Monday, October 10, 2011
Down from the Mountain
I just accomplished something significant in my life. Now, it’s admittedly not really the kind of thing that you would think. No, I didn’t get a novel published, a record contract, nor was I discovered by the New Yorker and asked to write editorial pieces or anything. It was none of those things and yet it was big: I finished reading a book.
Yes, I know, your scratching your head, aren’t you? Well, I am too a little. What book was it, you ask? It was Charles Frazier’s “Cold Mountain”, a book that I started, to the best of my memory at least, right around 2003. Quite frankly, I really don’t remember when I started it but it was at least seven years ago since I know I began reading it before I moved out of Phoenix.
Why did I even start reading this book, you ask (in case you’re wondering, yes, I CAN hear your thoughts from here!)? In truth, you’re correct in thinking it doesn’t seem like a book that I’d normally read. Well, it isn’t. I acquired it back probably ten years ago when I was joining and promptly cancelling memberships from book clubs and getting a small horde of books for next to nothing. Somehow this novel ended up in that pile and promptly sat on my shelf ever since. Considering that I can’t remember when I started this book, I most certainly can’t remember what it was that I read before it. Nonetheless, I’m relatively sure that I was kind of out of available books to read and so I settled upon this one which had become a sort of fixture on my shelf, kind of resembling an artifact more than something useful.
The book never really gripped me that much but yet wasn’t so terrible that I wanted to stop reading it. I know I read it quite a bit when I was living in my interim apartment when I first moved to Minnesota but for some reason after that I promptly stopped. It then became a sort of taboo item, something that just seemed weird to pick up and read after not doing so for so long. The rest is history. Years passed and until just recently, upon finding some books that I truly wanted to read, I felt that I first needed to finish my unfinished business and cleanse my book constipation period for good.
Some of you may know that I do a bit of writing here and there. I don’t, however, do a ton of reading and that always throws people for a loop. What kind of writer doesn’t read, right?! Well, I don’t and I can’t really explain it myself. I most certainly read more when I’m actually working on a writing project since I use books as a way of giving me formatting ideas and such. Since I haven’t really written anything creative in a long time, I guess reading just fell off of my radar. There are some other reasons that I won’t go in to here as well. I’m definitely not an avid reader, though, even when I’m “reading”. I know many people that crank through a book in a matter of a day or so and my usual turnaround is a couple of months. To date, I’ve read only one book from cover to cover in one sitting and I felt that was a major accomplishment in my life, even if it was only 250 pages or so.
And so, after nearly a decade, I just turned the last page of “Cold Mountain” yesterday. Ahhh…relief. For once, I feel like I truly accomplished something, even if it is totally irrelevant!
Yes, I know, your scratching your head, aren’t you? Well, I am too a little. What book was it, you ask? It was Charles Frazier’s “Cold Mountain”, a book that I started, to the best of my memory at least, right around 2003. Quite frankly, I really don’t remember when I started it but it was at least seven years ago since I know I began reading it before I moved out of Phoenix.
Why did I even start reading this book, you ask (in case you’re wondering, yes, I CAN hear your thoughts from here!)? In truth, you’re correct in thinking it doesn’t seem like a book that I’d normally read. Well, it isn’t. I acquired it back probably ten years ago when I was joining and promptly cancelling memberships from book clubs and getting a small horde of books for next to nothing. Somehow this novel ended up in that pile and promptly sat on my shelf ever since. Considering that I can’t remember when I started this book, I most certainly can’t remember what it was that I read before it. Nonetheless, I’m relatively sure that I was kind of out of available books to read and so I settled upon this one which had become a sort of fixture on my shelf, kind of resembling an artifact more than something useful.
The book never really gripped me that much but yet wasn’t so terrible that I wanted to stop reading it. I know I read it quite a bit when I was living in my interim apartment when I first moved to Minnesota but for some reason after that I promptly stopped. It then became a sort of taboo item, something that just seemed weird to pick up and read after not doing so for so long. The rest is history. Years passed and until just recently, upon finding some books that I truly wanted to read, I felt that I first needed to finish my unfinished business and cleanse my book constipation period for good.
 |
| The culprit of my literary constipation |
And so, after nearly a decade, I just turned the last page of “Cold Mountain” yesterday. Ahhh…relief. For once, I feel like I truly accomplished something, even if it is totally irrelevant!
Wednesday, September 21, 2011
It Happened Today
I just read the news about R.E.M. deciding to call it quits after 31 years of music. I don’t know why this is shocking me like it is but I am truly shocked. I can’t exactly say that I’m close to physical tears but it’s certainly affecting me emotionally. A band ending is inevitable, really, so I’m not sure why I’m having a hard time digesting this. Then again, I guess I do understand. It’s been a long, long road and I’ve been quite the diehard fan since 1985. I guess all that history between us is just choking me up a bit. I actually feel like I need to give a moment of silence or something like that in honor of them.
The first song I ever learned to play on guitar was R.E.M.’s “Driver 8”, in fact, they were a huge reason why I learned to play in the first place. I worked on that one song for weeks prior to being able to even come close to doing what I’d call “playing” it. Learning that one song essentially gave me enough knowledge on the instrument to start writing my own material. Over the past 24 years, I’ve played that same song countless times and I still make minor adjustments to how I play it, even just recently adding yet another touch that’s even more true to the original. I know and play probably 40% of the R.E.M. catalog. I think I play at least one R.E.M. tune each time I practice guitar. We’ve basically been like family all these years.
I was just commenting not more than a week ago how amazing it’s been having them around all this time. They’ve been one of the few bands that, in my opinion at least, have always been true to what they originally stood for and have always put out content that was up to par. Not every R.E.M. album is flawless, mind you, but I think the band has always tried to do something fresh, a little bit different, and of a higher caliber than most bands that last even half as long as they have. They also never strayed into “success la-la land”, as I’ll call it, when extreme success can sometimes severely alter the very core of a band and its’ members. Somehow, R.E.M. has managed to always keep it realistic and I’ve had nothing but the utmost respect for them in regards to that.
R.E.M. will surely be missed. It surely is the end of an era (even if their actual ‘era’ ended quite awhile ago). I think it’s ironic that a band like R.E.M. disbands while others like U2 insist on continuing, even though they sold out who they were back in 1987 (and yet went on to bigger stardom because of it…go figure). Even in disbanding, R.E.M. stays true to form and display nothing but class, offering multiple statements in regards to thanking their fans rather than trying to act like it’s all been about them. Classy right to the end. They simply ‘get it’ when so many others don’t.
And so, with that, I hand it right back to the band. Thank you, R.E.M., for all the great music that you’ve brought into this world and shared with us. You’ve been one of the biggest musical influences of my life, if not the biggest, in more ways than one. Thank you for everything.
Now might be the right time to start that R.E.M. tribute band after all.
The first song I ever learned to play on guitar was R.E.M.’s “Driver 8”, in fact, they were a huge reason why I learned to play in the first place. I worked on that one song for weeks prior to being able to even come close to doing what I’d call “playing” it. Learning that one song essentially gave me enough knowledge on the instrument to start writing my own material. Over the past 24 years, I’ve played that same song countless times and I still make minor adjustments to how I play it, even just recently adding yet another touch that’s even more true to the original. I know and play probably 40% of the R.E.M. catalog. I think I play at least one R.E.M. tune each time I practice guitar. We’ve basically been like family all these years.
I was just commenting not more than a week ago how amazing it’s been having them around all this time. They’ve been one of the few bands that, in my opinion at least, have always been true to what they originally stood for and have always put out content that was up to par. Not every R.E.M. album is flawless, mind you, but I think the band has always tried to do something fresh, a little bit different, and of a higher caliber than most bands that last even half as long as they have. They also never strayed into “success la-la land”, as I’ll call it, when extreme success can sometimes severely alter the very core of a band and its’ members. Somehow, R.E.M. has managed to always keep it realistic and I’ve had nothing but the utmost respect for them in regards to that.
R.E.M. will surely be missed. It surely is the end of an era (even if their actual ‘era’ ended quite awhile ago). I think it’s ironic that a band like R.E.M. disbands while others like U2 insist on continuing, even though they sold out who they were back in 1987 (and yet went on to bigger stardom because of it…go figure). Even in disbanding, R.E.M. stays true to form and display nothing but class, offering multiple statements in regards to thanking their fans rather than trying to act like it’s all been about them. Classy right to the end. They simply ‘get it’ when so many others don’t.
And so, with that, I hand it right back to the band. Thank you, R.E.M., for all the great music that you’ve brought into this world and shared with us. You’ve been one of the biggest musical influences of my life, if not the biggest, in more ways than one. Thank you for everything.
Now might be the right time to start that R.E.M. tribute band after all.
Tuesday, September 13, 2011
C'mon!!!
It was all quite ironic and a bit of déjà vu. I had just gotten finished discussing how I no longer cheer for Serena Williams due to the bad attitude and poor sportsmanship she’s displayed over the past few years. I had also mentioned how I personally can't stand the Serena “c’mon!” yell that she'll sometimes do after making a particularly good shot. It was only about an hour later that one of those very “c’mon’s” got her into yet another tirade directed at the officials of the US Open.
Taylor Dent did some of the broadcasting this year for some of the US Open matches and he was remarking on how he dislikes Tsonga’s thumbs up dance jig when he wins a match. Personally, I don’t mind that half as much as the Serena “c’mon”. First off, I don’t get the “c’mon”. I mean, what does it mean? Is she talking to the ball, her opponent, or the audience? Many people use the phrase ‘c’mon’ when they feel like they’re being mistreated. Does she feel that the ball has something personal against her? Or, perhaps she’s using it more like an “alright” or “oh yeah” sort of positive vibe, but then why doesn’t she just say one of those phrases? The kicker, though, is how she yells it at the top of her lungs out of nowhere and then, in a true Jekyll and Hyde sort of manner, immediately turns back to being completely stoic, as if the noise actually came from someone or somewhere else. I just don’t get it.
I used to really like Serena back in the day. I used to like Venus as well and still have slightly more tolerance for her versus her sister. Both sisters have shown a definite increase in attitude over the years, however, and it’s hard to overlook. It’s even incredibly obvious during the pre-match interviews where they both don their best fake smiles while their eyes glare at the interviewer with a look of “you truly annoy me”. It’s just hard to look past as a spectator.
Serena’s blow up two years ago was beyond belief to me. Now, admittedly, I started watching tennis post the McEnroe era so I’m not really accustomed to athletes completely losing it on the court. Still, Serena that year literally threatened an official…on the court…in front of millions of viewers. Who does that?!
And then, just as viewers were starting to forget about that incident, she creates a whole new one just as bizarre as the former. In yesterdays match, Serena yelled out one of her bizarrely ferocious “c’mon” yells but this time before the point was over and prior to Samantha Stosur having a chance at returning the ball. This is a definite no-no. Chair umpire Asderaki very correctly gave the point to Stosur, giving her an early break in the second set, rather than awarding Serena the winner. Well, the feud was on. I’d call it road rage except there wasn’t any road in sight.
The match had swung completely in Stosur’s favor up until that point and so it’s easy to understand Serena’s frustration in general. However, the call was correct and very obvious in the replay and so taking it out on the umpire was completely uncalled for. Still, had it stopped there, I think it would have been fine, but no…Serena had to throw in a few choice comments directly at the umpire. “Aren’t you the one that screwed me over last time here? Yeah, you are.” Well, no, chair umpire Asderaki wasn’t, and, um, the issue last time didn’t actually involve a chair umpire either. It was instead involving a linesman but that’s evidently beside the point in Serena’s eyes.
Damage was clearly already done but she unfortunately didn’t stop there. After the change over, Serena walked back to her seat past the chair umpire and loudly said, “I hate you.” This landed her a code violation and a verbal warning from the chair umpire.
Looking shocked that she received a code violation (go figure), she then continued: “A code violation because I expressed who I am?! We’re in America last time I checked. Am I gonna get violated for a water? Really, don’t even look at me.”
And then, a bit later, there was even more: “If you ever see me walking down the hall, walk the other way. Because you’re out of control. Totally out of control. You’re a hater. You’re unattractive inside. Who would do such a thing? And I never complain. Wow.”
I think it’s pretty clear who was out of control here. To anyone with small children, does any of this sound a bit familiar? Again, it’s simply a rule in the rulebook stating that a player cannot interrupt the playability of a point of an opponent. Everything that happened after that was just Serena “expressing herself”, albeit incorrectly. I mean, c’mon.
How Serena was able to say that she doesn’t ever complain with a straight face is beyond me. And yes, ‘wow’ is right. If I was chair umpire Asderaki, I think I would have busted out in hysterics. And “you’re a hater”? What on earth did she mean by that? I’m a bit afraid to ask so I won’t.
So, no, I don’t cheer for Serena any longer for pretty much the same reason that I don’t cheer for Roddick; they’re both a couple of stuck up whiney cry babies. I don’t care if they’re the American players or not. With those top choices, I’ll gladly cheer for the mild mannered Aussie who’s just thrilled to death to even be playing let alone win the US Open. What’s sad is that Serena and Roddick are the top American players and have been for quite some time, and they pretty much represent all of us on the courts around the world. Perhaps that will change in the next few years with the young American up and comer’s that we have. One can only hope.
It’s even more ironic that Serena’s latest tirade took place on the 10th year anniversary of 9/11.
I know that many conservatives of late have really been touting how we need to reduce and perhaps eliminate what they term as “entitlements” from our government. In my opinion, though, it’s this sort of American attitude entitlement that we should really work to rid ourselves of since it gives us all a black eye.
Taylor Dent did some of the broadcasting this year for some of the US Open matches and he was remarking on how he dislikes Tsonga’s thumbs up dance jig when he wins a match. Personally, I don’t mind that half as much as the Serena “c’mon”. First off, I don’t get the “c’mon”. I mean, what does it mean? Is she talking to the ball, her opponent, or the audience? Many people use the phrase ‘c’mon’ when they feel like they’re being mistreated. Does she feel that the ball has something personal against her? Or, perhaps she’s using it more like an “alright” or “oh yeah” sort of positive vibe, but then why doesn’t she just say one of those phrases? The kicker, though, is how she yells it at the top of her lungs out of nowhere and then, in a true Jekyll and Hyde sort of manner, immediately turns back to being completely stoic, as if the noise actually came from someone or somewhere else. I just don’t get it.
I used to really like Serena back in the day. I used to like Venus as well and still have slightly more tolerance for her versus her sister. Both sisters have shown a definite increase in attitude over the years, however, and it’s hard to overlook. It’s even incredibly obvious during the pre-match interviews where they both don their best fake smiles while their eyes glare at the interviewer with a look of “you truly annoy me”. It’s just hard to look past as a spectator.
 |
| Serena Williams at the US Open 2011, apparently 'expressing' herself |
And then, just as viewers were starting to forget about that incident, she creates a whole new one just as bizarre as the former. In yesterdays match, Serena yelled out one of her bizarrely ferocious “c’mon” yells but this time before the point was over and prior to Samantha Stosur having a chance at returning the ball. This is a definite no-no. Chair umpire Asderaki very correctly gave the point to Stosur, giving her an early break in the second set, rather than awarding Serena the winner. Well, the feud was on. I’d call it road rage except there wasn’t any road in sight.
The match had swung completely in Stosur’s favor up until that point and so it’s easy to understand Serena’s frustration in general. However, the call was correct and very obvious in the replay and so taking it out on the umpire was completely uncalled for. Still, had it stopped there, I think it would have been fine, but no…Serena had to throw in a few choice comments directly at the umpire. “Aren’t you the one that screwed me over last time here? Yeah, you are.” Well, no, chair umpire Asderaki wasn’t, and, um, the issue last time didn’t actually involve a chair umpire either. It was instead involving a linesman but that’s evidently beside the point in Serena’s eyes.
Damage was clearly already done but she unfortunately didn’t stop there. After the change over, Serena walked back to her seat past the chair umpire and loudly said, “I hate you.” This landed her a code violation and a verbal warning from the chair umpire.
Looking shocked that she received a code violation (go figure), she then continued: “A code violation because I expressed who I am?! We’re in America last time I checked. Am I gonna get violated for a water? Really, don’t even look at me.”
And then, a bit later, there was even more: “If you ever see me walking down the hall, walk the other way. Because you’re out of control. Totally out of control. You’re a hater. You’re unattractive inside. Who would do such a thing? And I never complain. Wow.”
I think it’s pretty clear who was out of control here. To anyone with small children, does any of this sound a bit familiar? Again, it’s simply a rule in the rulebook stating that a player cannot interrupt the playability of a point of an opponent. Everything that happened after that was just Serena “expressing herself”, albeit incorrectly. I mean, c’mon.
How Serena was able to say that she doesn’t ever complain with a straight face is beyond me. And yes, ‘wow’ is right. If I was chair umpire Asderaki, I think I would have busted out in hysterics. And “you’re a hater”? What on earth did she mean by that? I’m a bit afraid to ask so I won’t.
So, no, I don’t cheer for Serena any longer for pretty much the same reason that I don’t cheer for Roddick; they’re both a couple of stuck up whiney cry babies. I don’t care if they’re the American players or not. With those top choices, I’ll gladly cheer for the mild mannered Aussie who’s just thrilled to death to even be playing let alone win the US Open. What’s sad is that Serena and Roddick are the top American players and have been for quite some time, and they pretty much represent all of us on the courts around the world. Perhaps that will change in the next few years with the young American up and comer’s that we have. One can only hope.
It’s even more ironic that Serena’s latest tirade took place on the 10th year anniversary of 9/11.
I know that many conservatives of late have really been touting how we need to reduce and perhaps eliminate what they term as “entitlements” from our government. In my opinion, though, it’s this sort of American attitude entitlement that we should really work to rid ourselves of since it gives us all a black eye.
Friday, August 12, 2011
Judge Me By My Size, Do You?!
I recently walked in to a Potbelly Sandwich Works and ordered my usual vegetarian sandwich creation on white bread. For those of you that are unfamiliar, Potbelly is a chain sandwich shop mostly located in the Midwest region not unlike a Subway, Quizno’s, etc. The difference is that Potbelly sandwiches are hot rather than cold and the vegetarian one is really quite tasty in comparison to, say, Subway’s “vegetarian” sandwich which is pretty much a glob of lettuce, some mayonnaise, and an occasional olive here and there.
At Potbelly, you place your order at one end of the counter and then meet your sandwich and preparer on the opposite end of the oven. It’s there that you specify which specific ingredients you’d like on your sandwich. Usually, a completely different employee rings you up at the cash register, normally asking what you ordered and so on.
A young 20 something’s-ish girl was waiting for me at the register. She asked what I ordered and I promptly replied, saying a regular size vegetarian sandwich and a side of potato salad. She then said something that I didn’t fully hear with the only audible words being “…you…any…pickle…?”
I was a bit thrown off. I couldn’t recall there being any pickles inside the sandwich but, even if there were, they never have charged before for any specific ingredient. Being confused, I replied, “I’m sorry?!”
I could almost visibly see her altering her words in her head in order to make her question more clearly stated. The end result, though, was astounding: “A pickle. Do you have a big pickle??”
I simply stood and stared at her momentarily, completely dumbfounded. She, however, remained totally straight faced and saw nothing odd in her phrasing. Inside my brain, I was thinking, ‘Wow. Did this girl just ask me if I have a…big pickle?!’ As her question slowly started to digest in my brain and I started to understand what she was really asking, I suddenly busted out with a laugh. “Oh my goodness!” I said, slightly embarrassed. “Um, uh, no, I don’t…um…have a big pickle…now that you mention it,” realizing what I was admitting to out loud in a fast food chain. I couldn’t help but think about all those spam emails I get in regards to “Increase your Size”. It’s bad enough via email but nothing like being ‘interrogated’ at the local Potbelly too!
You see, Potbelly has a very large jar of huge whole pickles that they also sell. I’ve never actually seen anyone buy one, now that I think of it, which is why it didn’t immediately occur to me what she was really asking. I’m not entirely sure why she thought I wanted one or where that idea came from. Maybe I looked like a pickle connoisseur, who knows.
As we finished up the transaction, the cashier finally smiled and laughed a little as well as she continued to ring me up. I then proceeded to sit down and enjoy my sandwich, all the while thinking of the 1001 better responses I could and should have given her instead of what I actually came up with. It’s not every day that someone asks you if you have a big pickle, after all.
At Potbelly, you place your order at one end of the counter and then meet your sandwich and preparer on the opposite end of the oven. It’s there that you specify which specific ingredients you’d like on your sandwich. Usually, a completely different employee rings you up at the cash register, normally asking what you ordered and so on.
A young 20 something’s-ish girl was waiting for me at the register. She asked what I ordered and I promptly replied, saying a regular size vegetarian sandwich and a side of potato salad. She then said something that I didn’t fully hear with the only audible words being “…you…any…pickle…?”
I was a bit thrown off. I couldn’t recall there being any pickles inside the sandwich but, even if there were, they never have charged before for any specific ingredient. Being confused, I replied, “I’m sorry?!”
I could almost visibly see her altering her words in her head in order to make her question more clearly stated. The end result, though, was astounding: “A pickle. Do you have a big pickle??”
I simply stood and stared at her momentarily, completely dumbfounded. She, however, remained totally straight faced and saw nothing odd in her phrasing. Inside my brain, I was thinking, ‘Wow. Did this girl just ask me if I have a…big pickle?!’ As her question slowly started to digest in my brain and I started to understand what she was really asking, I suddenly busted out with a laugh. “Oh my goodness!” I said, slightly embarrassed. “Um, uh, no, I don’t…um…have a big pickle…now that you mention it,” realizing what I was admitting to out loud in a fast food chain. I couldn’t help but think about all those spam emails I get in regards to “Increase your Size”. It’s bad enough via email but nothing like being ‘interrogated’ at the local Potbelly too!
You see, Potbelly has a very large jar of huge whole pickles that they also sell. I’ve never actually seen anyone buy one, now that I think of it, which is why it didn’t immediately occur to me what she was really asking. I’m not entirely sure why she thought I wanted one or where that idea came from. Maybe I looked like a pickle connoisseur, who knows.
As we finished up the transaction, the cashier finally smiled and laughed a little as well as she continued to ring me up. I then proceeded to sit down and enjoy my sandwich, all the while thinking of the 1001 better responses I could and should have given her instead of what I actually came up with. It’s not every day that someone asks you if you have a big pickle, after all.
Saturday, August 06, 2011
Out of my '20,000' League at Caribou
I ordered my usual medium sized dark roast coffee today from Caribou. It’s a great deal at only $1 provided that the Minnesota Twins baseball team wins the previous day. The only real catch is that you have to remember to print out the coupon from the internet or you’re out of luck. At this point, it’s pretty much a habit for me and really hasn’t been much of an issue. Heck, I’m practically there every day so it’s routine by now.
Caribou locations usually have a trivia question posted on the wall and, if you guess the answer correctly, you receive an extra 10 cents off your purchase. This may seems trivial (pardon the pun) but when you’re coffee is only $1 to begin with it’s actually quite nice. If you get a really nice Caribou employee to ring you up, sometimes they’ll even give you the discount if you answer incorrectly and/or they’ll give you a second/third/fourth chance at the answer.
I placed my order and looked at the question. “Who is the month of July named for?” was proudly displayed on the trivia board. Who was the month of July named for?! Um... It seemed like the sort of thing that maybe I should know but I had no idea that any of the months were named after anyone. In fact, upon thinking about it, I had often wondered where these goofy names had come from in the first place.
Ashley rang me up at the register and, upon noticing that I was looking at the board, kindly asked, “Would you like to take a stab at today’s trivia question?” I hesitated uncomfortably. “Um, yeah, sure...” I said without much confidence. “Hmm, let’s see… Who is the month of July named for… Um…” I was stalling for time as much as possible as Ashley patiently watched me with little amusement.
I had completely drawn a blank. July? Who the heck is named ‘July’? Even worse, who the heck is named any part of the word ‘July’? Nothing was coming to me. Meanwhile, Ashley was starting to get annoyed. I had to come up with an answer and fast. Anything would do and they often say that your first thought is correct. Jul…Jul…
I settled on an answer in my head and promptly blurted it out. “Jules Verne?” No sooner did I say it but both Ashley and I laughed out loud. Smiling slightly, Ashley finished ringing me up, albeit without the 10 cent discount, while stating, “The correct answer is Julius Caesar.”
Ah! Julius Caesar! Now that makes sense! Jules Verne?! What the heck was I thinking?!!
I never was very good at history.
Caribou locations usually have a trivia question posted on the wall and, if you guess the answer correctly, you receive an extra 10 cents off your purchase. This may seems trivial (pardon the pun) but when you’re coffee is only $1 to begin with it’s actually quite nice. If you get a really nice Caribou employee to ring you up, sometimes they’ll even give you the discount if you answer incorrectly and/or they’ll give you a second/third/fourth chance at the answer.
I placed my order and looked at the question. “Who is the month of July named for?” was proudly displayed on the trivia board. Who was the month of July named for?! Um... It seemed like the sort of thing that maybe I should know but I had no idea that any of the months were named after anyone. In fact, upon thinking about it, I had often wondered where these goofy names had come from in the first place.
Ashley rang me up at the register and, upon noticing that I was looking at the board, kindly asked, “Would you like to take a stab at today’s trivia question?” I hesitated uncomfortably. “Um, yeah, sure...” I said without much confidence. “Hmm, let’s see… Who is the month of July named for… Um…” I was stalling for time as much as possible as Ashley patiently watched me with little amusement.
I had completely drawn a blank. July? Who the heck is named ‘July’? Even worse, who the heck is named any part of the word ‘July’? Nothing was coming to me. Meanwhile, Ashley was starting to get annoyed. I had to come up with an answer and fast. Anything would do and they often say that your first thought is correct. Jul…Jul…
I settled on an answer in my head and promptly blurted it out. “Jules Verne?” No sooner did I say it but both Ashley and I laughed out loud. Smiling slightly, Ashley finished ringing me up, albeit without the 10 cent discount, while stating, “The correct answer is Julius Caesar.”
Ah! Julius Caesar! Now that makes sense! Jules Verne?! What the heck was I thinking?!!
I never was very good at history.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
Peter Gabriel at the Starlight Theatre in Kansas City, MO, June 18th, 2011
Peter Gabriel was one of my idols growing up, most definitely my biggest musical idol, and still is pretty near the top of my list. His music and lyrics completely amazed me since it was so incredibly deep, passionate, moving, and emotional in a way that I had never heard previously. His music also expressed a certain kind of experimental, no-holds barred sort of approach to songwriting that was simply irresistible and very different from anything else that I listened to at that time of my life. I would have to say that his work was the first music that truly pushed me in a specific artistic direction, completely flooring me on multiple levels. I knew very early on that I wanted to write music one day that drew from this influence. For those of you that are unfamiliar with his work beyond the obvious tracks like “Sledgehammer”, “Big Time”, and “In Your Eyes”, give a listen to his fourth album and I think you’ll understand.
I was incredibly fortunate to have seen Gabriel perform back in 1993 during the Secret World Tour in support of the album “Us”, probably the best tour he’s ever done and definitely one of the best shows I’ve ever seen in my life which is quite a ranking considering the outrageous number of shows I’ve seen. I also saw him nearly a decade later during the Growing Up Tour, a show that fell a little short in my opinion, possibly more to how the audience and concert going experience had changed drastically versus his actual performance. When I then heard that Gabriel would be touring the US with an orchestra last year in support of the “Scratch My Back” cover song CD, I immediately made plans to see one of the shows. Without much debate I decided upon the Los Angeles performance at the Hollywood Bowl. I purchased a 3rd row ticket and was quite excited, especially since the Hollywood Bowl was a venue that I had always wanted to go to and yet never really had the opportunity. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond my control, I never made it to L.A. for the performance and I thought I had missed out on the tour completely. Upon reading a few months ago that he was returning to the states this summer with more or less the same tour, once again dubbed the “New Blood Tour”, I could hardly believe the news. This was so unlike him. I’ve never known him to do such a thing before so it almost felt like it was for me…of which I can only say ‘thanks!’ Therefore, it was a “must see” for me.
Just to clarify, for those of you not in the know, these recent tours are not typical Peter Gabriel shows of the past. There is no regular band, no Tony Levin or Manu Katche, and literally no guitars, bass, drums, keyboards, etc., or anything that would be associated with a rock music show. Instead, it’s Peter Gabriel accompanied by a 50 piece orchestra playing a variety of reinterpreted cover songs and breathing new life into Gabriel’s own work, hence the name “New Blood”.
Only a handful of dates were scheduled for this summer’s tour. After looking them over, I decided upon the June 18th show in Kansas City at the outdoor venue called the Starlight Theater, partially due to the date falling on a weekend but also because the venue looked quite intriguing with its’ uniquely Shakespearean look. My other 2 logical choices were Chicago at the United Center, of which I wanted to avoid seeing the show in an arena, and the last being at Milwaukee’s Summerfest which is usually filled with nothing but has-been old rockers getting way too drunk for my tastes. No, I prefer to see and hear the show and truly be in the moment, connecting with the performance and the music, and so Kansas City seemed like the better option for me.
Kansas City had another bonus: it was really easy to get a great ticket. It’s also one of the few venues not on the Ticketmaster system which is always a bonus. Any chance I can avoid giving money to the “evil empire of entertainment” I most certainly will. I ended up with a 4th row center ticket without any sweating involved. Ironically, I’ve never sat further than 4th row for any of the Gabriel shows that I’ve had tickets for.
The ride out was really quite easy. It’s just shy of a 6 hour ride total from the Twin Cities area, for me at least at the speed of which I drive, and you pretty much follow I-35 all the way. There’s really nothing to see in between the two cities except a lot of farm land and rolling hills and so nothing too eventful happened apart from relaxing and unwinding during the drive after a hectic work week.
I stayed the first night in a small town in Iowa called Osceola which was about 4 of the 6 hours into the journey. I decided to do this since I worked on Friday and left shortly after my workday had completed. I don’t drive well at night anymore and so I try to avoid it as much as possible. I got to my hotel right around 10pm.
Per the map, Osceola is a one street town, at least from the freeway’s perspective. Having said that, I somehow got off the freeway at the wrong exit and was completely confused as to where I was. The only real thing visible at this exit was some sort of casino that had a huge cowboy neon sign outside of it spouting off random messages. Otherwise, the entire area was pitch black and nothing in sight seemed to resemble a hotel. It was so dark that it was even difficult to see the heavily pot-holed road at times. At one point I thought I may have seen the hotel but it ended up being some sort of retirement care facility that was eerily vacant and devoid of any signs of life or welcoming. After making multiple u-turns on roads that are only about one car wide, I felt that I needed to get back to the freeway as quickly as possible. I ended up making a u-turn in a residential area that was quite a sight. I wasn’t even sure where the houses were and all I could see were random piles of junk, old cars, etc. As I ventured back towards the freeway, I was slightly frightened by some sort of figure suddenly huddled alone on the side of the road. At first I thought it was a member of the living dead or perhaps the Grim Reaper; it turned out to be just some guy wearing a hooded sweatshirt nonchalantly walking in the darkness. Very eerie.
Back on the freeway, I headed to the next and correct exit which was slightly different than the previous. This exit at least had some lights and a few small businesses around it including a gas station, a McDonalds, some sort of country restaurant, and my hotel. The road to the hotel didn’t appear to be a road at all but some sort of former sidewalk now doubling as a road. The hotel didn’t look promising from the outside but the inside was thankfully very clean. I was only sleeping here for the evening and then continuing on and so cleanliness was my only real concern. Having said that, the hotel turned out to be fine for my situation.
The next morning I headed out to Kansas City. The less than 2 hour ride flew by and it wasn’t long before I was looking for somewhere to eat breakfast. In my infinite wisdom, I kept passing by various restaurants in hopes of finding something that I preferred more. Of course, my preferences never came and so I ended up driving through the entire city, crossing the state line into Kansas, and eventually settling on Bob Evans, somewhere I haven’t eaten since I was 12. Breakfast was actually decent and not too pricey, much to my surprise, and of a slightly higher caliber than, say, Denny’s.
It was now about 11:30am. I wouldn’t be able to check-in to my hotel until 3 or 4pm and so I decided to go to the movies to see “The Tree of Life”. This particular theater was located in some college district and literally took me a half hour to find due to its’ bizarre location. Luckily, I had all the time in the world before the show started.
The theater itself is hidden within an old style office building of sorts. Apart from a small banner that I later found hanging on the side of the wall, there’s no actual sign or normal looking movie theater paraphernalia outside the location to spot it. Once I entered the building, I was still confused. I found a guy standing by a door, looking rather bored. A rather steep staircase lead upward but nothing more was visible. “Is this the theater entrance?” I asked. “Yep, this is it,” he replied. It was definitely an interesting setup.
I was in need of using the restroom and so I purposefully entered the theater early to allow enough time. I entered the men’s room and, after looking at my three options, I chose the middle stall. The toilet was equipped with an automatic flushing system which accidentally went off as I was preparing to sit. Moments later, though, it went off again. I found that sort of odd until it did it again. And again. And again. Unfortunately, I was, um, committed to using this stall at this point and so moving wasn’t really an option. Meanwhile, the toilet flushed again. And again. “It’s almost like having my own personal bidet,” I thought to myself silently. Just then, the toilet flushed again. Now, I was starting to laugh uncontrollably at both my thoughts and the situation. I was also trying to position my upper body in a way that would maybe cause the toilet to stop flushing.
Meanwhile, men were coming in and out of the restroom, more than likely wondering why I was flushing the toilet repetitively let alone laughing while I’m doing it. This thought, of course, made me laugh even more. I continued trying different positions for my upper body while the persistent flushing continued. I finally found one position that sort of worked but it was nearly impossible to remain in it for a long period of time considering, um, the circumstances. As I, well, prepared to leave the stall, the toilet started flushing even more frequently than before, almost like it was angry. I finally got the heck out of there and made my way back to the lobby, all the while feeling like I had just been hassled by a disgruntled toilet.
Back in the lobby, my head was now coated with sweat since the situation in the bathroom had pretty much stressed me out. I’m sure the girl behind the concession stand was wondering why I was sweating over getting popcorn. In any event, I got my refreshments and made my way into the quaint theater.
I could write a whole different article on the movie alone, I think, so I’ll save my comments on that for another time. Once the movie was over, I made my way to the hotel and was ready to prepare for the evenings events.
Just like the previous night, I couldn’t find the correct road for the hotel. I could see the hotel just fine but I couldn’t figure out how the heck to get to it. After about 4 u-turns, I finally figured out the puzzle that lay before me. I had a map printed out from Yahoo!, mind you, but they unfortunately put the star that shows the hotel on the map right over the street name!
This hotel, a Courtyard by Marriot, was definitely much nicer than the previous night’s accommodations. I checked in and started working on my plans for dinner. It was now about 4:45pm and I was intending on leaving for the show around 6:45pm. I found that a Rosati’s, a pizza chain from Chicago and only one of two in KC, just happened to be located one mile from the hotel. I placed my order, waited a bit while watching some of the baseball game on TV, and then ventured out. Once again, I couldn’t find the location. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me these days! Eventually, I figured out where I was supposed to go and claimed my pizza-to-go.
I got back to the hotel and prepared to feast. The pizza was great and it seemed like I basically swallowed the whole thing in one bite which I just might have, knowing me. I relaxed a bit afterwards and then checked the local weather. The forecast had predicted severe storms all week long with a high of 90 degrees. Now, the forecast had altered to include quarter sized hail, possible tornadoes, etc. What a night for an outdoor concert!
I headed out from my hotel to the show right on time. The venue is located in a really nice park that sort of resembles the parks in the downtown area of Chicago, just a lot less crowded. It was really easy to get in to the general vicinity of the venue and it only cost $5 to park but the downside was that there isn’t an actual parking lot for that price and so you have to park on grass. I was a bit concerned about this since my car is pretty low to the ground but it didn’t seem to cause an issue thankfully.
I walked through one of the main gates and scoped out the venue. It really is a pretty place and, at least up until that point, the weather seemed nearly perfect for an outdoor show. I did a lot of walking around, took various pictures, visited both the venues’ gift shop and the artists’ merchandise tent, and then eventually found my seat for the show. Yes, indeed, I was in the ‘real’ 4th row, meaning that there weren’t any VIP pit seats or anything of the sort in front of me. It was so close in fact that I was slightly worried that it might be too close.
I talked a bit to the family next to me in order to pass the time. I was slightly afraid that I would be eaten alive by mosquitoes as it got later into the evening and so I was doing my best to get a second opinion since I had completely spaced bringing any repellent. It sounded like it wasn’t too much of a concern and so I eventually let it go.
Not long after, as he tends to do, Peter Gabriel just nonchalantly walked out onto the stage. The lights didn’t go down, there was no fanfare, no nothing…he just sort of walks out casually onto the stage to introduce the opening act. It’s quite a classy thing to do, I think, and it also gave me a feel for just how perfectly seated I was since he was only a couple feet directly in front of me.
The opening act was Ane Brun who performed just two songs accompanied only by an acoustic guitar that she played for one song and banged on for a beat during the second. Brun then joined the New Blood Orchestra as a backup singer for Gabriel along with Peter’s daughter Melanie. There was literally no delay after the two songs and Gabriel once again casually ventured out onto the stage. He began by explaining what the project was all about, how it had come about, etc., all the while standing mere feet away from me. Shortly after that, the actual show began with a revamped version of David Bowie’s “Heroes”. It seemed pretty obvious right from the start that it was going to be a great performance.
The stage was filled with teleprompters so that Gabriel could read his lyrics from pretty much any direction. He came out with a large amount of hot tea available, something that I think is pretty routine for him these days due to his vocal issues, and took drinks of it often when he had a few moments during non-singing passages. He did do something that I’ve never seen before; he picked up a tube of honey, meaning the large kind that you’d have at home, and rather than squirting that into the tea, he instead squirted it directly into his mouth. He then followed it with a tea chaser. I may need to try this myself one of these days considering all the voice issues I have as well.
The basic stage layout was pretty simple and straightforward but definitely had enough pizzazz to make the show interesting and memorable. For the most part, Gabriel simply stood in one place and sang. I think the days of him jumping around like a monkey are probably behind him at this point but I can’t say that it hurt the show any without it. Every once in awhile, when he was really in to a song, he started getting a bit more dramatic by breaking in to a slight jog, a bit of a jump, etc. You can tell that he misses the days of his youth when he was able to run around the stage at will. Then again, don’t we all!
The New Blood Orchestra is composed of some touring musicians from England and then other musicians from the local area of where the actual show is. This allows for collaboration, different interpretations, and also to keep the price of touring down. This particular tour was not so much in support of Gabriel’s last release “Scratch My Back”, a collection of random cover songs redone and treated with orchestration, but more of a preview of the upcoming “New Blood” album set for release this fall which gives the orchestral treatment to Gabriel’s actual catalog. Therefore, this show ended up consisting more of Gabriel songs versus selections from “Scratch My Back”.
For those of you that have perhaps never seen him live, Peter has a most interesting way of talking to an audience. He shows literally no emotion, no energy; almost no pulse. He stands at the microphone with his arms straight down his sides and talks in a very quiet and rather modest, dry tone. He’s always been this way, from my understanding, and it’s partly what’s made his passionate musical performances so interesting, basically to watch this person go from zero personality while talking to running and leaping around the stage while singing. It’s quite a bizarre approach to communicating with an audience, in my opinion, and yet one that’s worked quite well for him. This tour was absolutely no different in that regard except with less energy during the singing portions.
The set overall was fantastic, filled with a wide variety of tracks that some people would absolutely expect to hear and then some true gems that we’ve never heard before live. “Wallflower” in particular has always been one of my personal favorites and I’ve never heard him play it before. The new arrangement was almost even more beautifully melancholy than the original and literally brought tears to my eyes, especially since the political prisoner/POW lyric was more prominently heard than ever before. Overall, I was completely blown away by how natural it was for Gabriel’s songs to be transferred over into orchestral arrangements, almost to the point that I barely noticed that the version was any different. I had been a bit afraid that I’d be missing specific elements from the original versions but surprisingly I didn’t give it a second thought throughout the show.
Here’s a pic of the actual set list courtesy of PeterGabriel.com:
Later into the show, they started into “Blood of Eden”. Gabriel sang the first verse and then started into the wrong verse afterwards. Clearly annoyed with himself for flubbing the lyrics, he very abruptly said, “…No, wait… Let’s start that over.” The players immediately stopped playing. He then paused, lost all emotion and became perfectly stoic as usual, and said very dryly, “That’s what’s known…in the professional language…as a f*** up.” He then very gently smiled to himself momentarily as the audience reacted with laughter.
There was a 20 minute intermission in the middle of the show where most people took the opportunity to empty their bladders, grab more beer, and so on. I was talking again to the family next to me when I heard a very loud boom while feeling the back of my seat shake slightly. I turned around to see that one of the guys behind me, evidently beyond drunk, had somehow attempted some ridiculous maneuver and ended up flat on his back on the concrete flooring. He laid there momentarily, like a stunned animal, with his feet up into the air. Then, with a spring in his step, he jumped up and said, “I’m okay! I’m okay!” To prove it, he danced around a little. I could only think, wow…nothing like getting plastered at an orchestral concert!
After the intermission, the show began right where it had left off and immediately was gripping once again. It was now completely dark outside so the lighting was able to be used to its’ full effect. One of the true standout tracks from the second half was “Rhythm of the Heat”. Not only was the song fully realized with the orchestral arrangement, the video screens also complimented with an eerie effect of showing the conductor, with his wildly waving hands and thickly gelled hair flopping up and down, going crazy as he tried to get the musicians to put even more passion into their playing. The crowd erupted with thunderous applause.
The weather completely cooperated in the end. I felt a total of four raindrops during the performance and nothing more. No hail, no fierce winds, etc. Even the temperature was pleasant and most of all…no mosquito bites either. What more could I ask for?
The last encore began with “Don’t Give Up” and then finally the anti-climatic instrumental “The Nest that Sailed the Sky”. It was a really strange way to end the performance but yet kind of worked since the whole show was a bit out of the ordinary. The entire show lasted about 3 hours in length.
Once the show ended, I made my way over to the merchandise stand and picked up a rather cool looking “New Blood” t-shirt and poster. I waited as long as possible before trying to venture out of the grass parking lot in order to avoid traffic. As I waited in my car, I couldn’t help but smile in regards to the performance. I had indeed chosen wisely seeing the show in Kansas City and, even though I had missed the Hollywood Bowl show from the previous year, I had more than made up for it.
I was incredibly fortunate to have seen Gabriel perform back in 1993 during the Secret World Tour in support of the album “Us”, probably the best tour he’s ever done and definitely one of the best shows I’ve ever seen in my life which is quite a ranking considering the outrageous number of shows I’ve seen. I also saw him nearly a decade later during the Growing Up Tour, a show that fell a little short in my opinion, possibly more to how the audience and concert going experience had changed drastically versus his actual performance. When I then heard that Gabriel would be touring the US with an orchestra last year in support of the “Scratch My Back” cover song CD, I immediately made plans to see one of the shows. Without much debate I decided upon the Los Angeles performance at the Hollywood Bowl. I purchased a 3rd row ticket and was quite excited, especially since the Hollywood Bowl was a venue that I had always wanted to go to and yet never really had the opportunity. Unfortunately, due to circumstances beyond my control, I never made it to L.A. for the performance and I thought I had missed out on the tour completely. Upon reading a few months ago that he was returning to the states this summer with more or less the same tour, once again dubbed the “New Blood Tour”, I could hardly believe the news. This was so unlike him. I’ve never known him to do such a thing before so it almost felt like it was for me…of which I can only say ‘thanks!’ Therefore, it was a “must see” for me.
Just to clarify, for those of you not in the know, these recent tours are not typical Peter Gabriel shows of the past. There is no regular band, no Tony Levin or Manu Katche, and literally no guitars, bass, drums, keyboards, etc., or anything that would be associated with a rock music show. Instead, it’s Peter Gabriel accompanied by a 50 piece orchestra playing a variety of reinterpreted cover songs and breathing new life into Gabriel’s own work, hence the name “New Blood”.
Only a handful of dates were scheduled for this summer’s tour. After looking them over, I decided upon the June 18th show in Kansas City at the outdoor venue called the Starlight Theater, partially due to the date falling on a weekend but also because the venue looked quite intriguing with its’ uniquely Shakespearean look. My other 2 logical choices were Chicago at the United Center, of which I wanted to avoid seeing the show in an arena, and the last being at Milwaukee’s Summerfest which is usually filled with nothing but has-been old rockers getting way too drunk for my tastes. No, I prefer to see and hear the show and truly be in the moment, connecting with the performance and the music, and so Kansas City seemed like the better option for me.
Kansas City had another bonus: it was really easy to get a great ticket. It’s also one of the few venues not on the Ticketmaster system which is always a bonus. Any chance I can avoid giving money to the “evil empire of entertainment” I most certainly will. I ended up with a 4th row center ticket without any sweating involved. Ironically, I’ve never sat further than 4th row for any of the Gabriel shows that I’ve had tickets for.
The ride out was really quite easy. It’s just shy of a 6 hour ride total from the Twin Cities area, for me at least at the speed of which I drive, and you pretty much follow I-35 all the way. There’s really nothing to see in between the two cities except a lot of farm land and rolling hills and so nothing too eventful happened apart from relaxing and unwinding during the drive after a hectic work week.
I stayed the first night in a small town in Iowa called Osceola which was about 4 of the 6 hours into the journey. I decided to do this since I worked on Friday and left shortly after my workday had completed. I don’t drive well at night anymore and so I try to avoid it as much as possible. I got to my hotel right around 10pm.
Per the map, Osceola is a one street town, at least from the freeway’s perspective. Having said that, I somehow got off the freeway at the wrong exit and was completely confused as to where I was. The only real thing visible at this exit was some sort of casino that had a huge cowboy neon sign outside of it spouting off random messages. Otherwise, the entire area was pitch black and nothing in sight seemed to resemble a hotel. It was so dark that it was even difficult to see the heavily pot-holed road at times. At one point I thought I may have seen the hotel but it ended up being some sort of retirement care facility that was eerily vacant and devoid of any signs of life or welcoming. After making multiple u-turns on roads that are only about one car wide, I felt that I needed to get back to the freeway as quickly as possible. I ended up making a u-turn in a residential area that was quite a sight. I wasn’t even sure where the houses were and all I could see were random piles of junk, old cars, etc. As I ventured back towards the freeway, I was slightly frightened by some sort of figure suddenly huddled alone on the side of the road. At first I thought it was a member of the living dead or perhaps the Grim Reaper; it turned out to be just some guy wearing a hooded sweatshirt nonchalantly walking in the darkness. Very eerie.
Back on the freeway, I headed to the next and correct exit which was slightly different than the previous. This exit at least had some lights and a few small businesses around it including a gas station, a McDonalds, some sort of country restaurant, and my hotel. The road to the hotel didn’t appear to be a road at all but some sort of former sidewalk now doubling as a road. The hotel didn’t look promising from the outside but the inside was thankfully very clean. I was only sleeping here for the evening and then continuing on and so cleanliness was my only real concern. Having said that, the hotel turned out to be fine for my situation.
The next morning I headed out to Kansas City. The less than 2 hour ride flew by and it wasn’t long before I was looking for somewhere to eat breakfast. In my infinite wisdom, I kept passing by various restaurants in hopes of finding something that I preferred more. Of course, my preferences never came and so I ended up driving through the entire city, crossing the state line into Kansas, and eventually settling on Bob Evans, somewhere I haven’t eaten since I was 12. Breakfast was actually decent and not too pricey, much to my surprise, and of a slightly higher caliber than, say, Denny’s.
It was now about 11:30am. I wouldn’t be able to check-in to my hotel until 3 or 4pm and so I decided to go to the movies to see “The Tree of Life”. This particular theater was located in some college district and literally took me a half hour to find due to its’ bizarre location. Luckily, I had all the time in the world before the show started.
The theater itself is hidden within an old style office building of sorts. Apart from a small banner that I later found hanging on the side of the wall, there’s no actual sign or normal looking movie theater paraphernalia outside the location to spot it. Once I entered the building, I was still confused. I found a guy standing by a door, looking rather bored. A rather steep staircase lead upward but nothing more was visible. “Is this the theater entrance?” I asked. “Yep, this is it,” he replied. It was definitely an interesting setup.
I was in need of using the restroom and so I purposefully entered the theater early to allow enough time. I entered the men’s room and, after looking at my three options, I chose the middle stall. The toilet was equipped with an automatic flushing system which accidentally went off as I was preparing to sit. Moments later, though, it went off again. I found that sort of odd until it did it again. And again. And again. Unfortunately, I was, um, committed to using this stall at this point and so moving wasn’t really an option. Meanwhile, the toilet flushed again. And again. “It’s almost like having my own personal bidet,” I thought to myself silently. Just then, the toilet flushed again. Now, I was starting to laugh uncontrollably at both my thoughts and the situation. I was also trying to position my upper body in a way that would maybe cause the toilet to stop flushing.
Meanwhile, men were coming in and out of the restroom, more than likely wondering why I was flushing the toilet repetitively let alone laughing while I’m doing it. This thought, of course, made me laugh even more. I continued trying different positions for my upper body while the persistent flushing continued. I finally found one position that sort of worked but it was nearly impossible to remain in it for a long period of time considering, um, the circumstances. As I, well, prepared to leave the stall, the toilet started flushing even more frequently than before, almost like it was angry. I finally got the heck out of there and made my way back to the lobby, all the while feeling like I had just been hassled by a disgruntled toilet.
Back in the lobby, my head was now coated with sweat since the situation in the bathroom had pretty much stressed me out. I’m sure the girl behind the concession stand was wondering why I was sweating over getting popcorn. In any event, I got my refreshments and made my way into the quaint theater.
I could write a whole different article on the movie alone, I think, so I’ll save my comments on that for another time. Once the movie was over, I made my way to the hotel and was ready to prepare for the evenings events.
Just like the previous night, I couldn’t find the correct road for the hotel. I could see the hotel just fine but I couldn’t figure out how the heck to get to it. After about 4 u-turns, I finally figured out the puzzle that lay before me. I had a map printed out from Yahoo!, mind you, but they unfortunately put the star that shows the hotel on the map right over the street name!
This hotel, a Courtyard by Marriot, was definitely much nicer than the previous night’s accommodations. I checked in and started working on my plans for dinner. It was now about 4:45pm and I was intending on leaving for the show around 6:45pm. I found that a Rosati’s, a pizza chain from Chicago and only one of two in KC, just happened to be located one mile from the hotel. I placed my order, waited a bit while watching some of the baseball game on TV, and then ventured out. Once again, I couldn’t find the location. I’m not sure what’s wrong with me these days! Eventually, I figured out where I was supposed to go and claimed my pizza-to-go.
I got back to the hotel and prepared to feast. The pizza was great and it seemed like I basically swallowed the whole thing in one bite which I just might have, knowing me. I relaxed a bit afterwards and then checked the local weather. The forecast had predicted severe storms all week long with a high of 90 degrees. Now, the forecast had altered to include quarter sized hail, possible tornadoes, etc. What a night for an outdoor concert!
I headed out from my hotel to the show right on time. The venue is located in a really nice park that sort of resembles the parks in the downtown area of Chicago, just a lot less crowded. It was really easy to get in to the general vicinity of the venue and it only cost $5 to park but the downside was that there isn’t an actual parking lot for that price and so you have to park on grass. I was a bit concerned about this since my car is pretty low to the ground but it didn’t seem to cause an issue thankfully.
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| The Starlight Theatre's gateway entrance |
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| A view of the venue and stage from the back |
Not long after, as he tends to do, Peter Gabriel just nonchalantly walked out onto the stage. The lights didn’t go down, there was no fanfare, no nothing…he just sort of walks out casually onto the stage to introduce the opening act. It’s quite a classy thing to do, I think, and it also gave me a feel for just how perfectly seated I was since he was only a couple feet directly in front of me.
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| Peter Gabriel's introduction |
The stage was filled with teleprompters so that Gabriel could read his lyrics from pretty much any direction. He came out with a large amount of hot tea available, something that I think is pretty routine for him these days due to his vocal issues, and took drinks of it often when he had a few moments during non-singing passages. He did do something that I’ve never seen before; he picked up a tube of honey, meaning the large kind that you’d have at home, and rather than squirting that into the tea, he instead squirted it directly into his mouth. He then followed it with a tea chaser. I may need to try this myself one of these days considering all the voice issues I have as well.
The basic stage layout was pretty simple and straightforward but definitely had enough pizzazz to make the show interesting and memorable. For the most part, Gabriel simply stood in one place and sang. I think the days of him jumping around like a monkey are probably behind him at this point but I can’t say that it hurt the show any without it. Every once in awhile, when he was really in to a song, he started getting a bit more dramatic by breaking in to a slight jog, a bit of a jump, etc. You can tell that he misses the days of his youth when he was able to run around the stage at will. Then again, don’t we all!
The New Blood Orchestra is composed of some touring musicians from England and then other musicians from the local area of where the actual show is. This allows for collaboration, different interpretations, and also to keep the price of touring down. This particular tour was not so much in support of Gabriel’s last release “Scratch My Back”, a collection of random cover songs redone and treated with orchestration, but more of a preview of the upcoming “New Blood” album set for release this fall which gives the orchestral treatment to Gabriel’s actual catalog. Therefore, this show ended up consisting more of Gabriel songs versus selections from “Scratch My Back”.
For those of you that have perhaps never seen him live, Peter has a most interesting way of talking to an audience. He shows literally no emotion, no energy; almost no pulse. He stands at the microphone with his arms straight down his sides and talks in a very quiet and rather modest, dry tone. He’s always been this way, from my understanding, and it’s partly what’s made his passionate musical performances so interesting, basically to watch this person go from zero personality while talking to running and leaping around the stage while singing. It’s quite a bizarre approach to communicating with an audience, in my opinion, and yet one that’s worked quite well for him. This tour was absolutely no different in that regard except with less energy during the singing portions.
The set overall was fantastic, filled with a wide variety of tracks that some people would absolutely expect to hear and then some true gems that we’ve never heard before live. “Wallflower” in particular has always been one of my personal favorites and I’ve never heard him play it before. The new arrangement was almost even more beautifully melancholy than the original and literally brought tears to my eyes, especially since the political prisoner/POW lyric was more prominently heard than ever before. Overall, I was completely blown away by how natural it was for Gabriel’s songs to be transferred over into orchestral arrangements, almost to the point that I barely noticed that the version was any different. I had been a bit afraid that I’d be missing specific elements from the original versions but surprisingly I didn’t give it a second thought throughout the show.
Here’s a pic of the actual set list courtesy of PeterGabriel.com:
Later into the show, they started into “Blood of Eden”. Gabriel sang the first verse and then started into the wrong verse afterwards. Clearly annoyed with himself for flubbing the lyrics, he very abruptly said, “…No, wait… Let’s start that over.” The players immediately stopped playing. He then paused, lost all emotion and became perfectly stoic as usual, and said very dryly, “That’s what’s known…in the professional language…as a f*** up.” He then very gently smiled to himself momentarily as the audience reacted with laughter.
There was a 20 minute intermission in the middle of the show where most people took the opportunity to empty their bladders, grab more beer, and so on. I was talking again to the family next to me when I heard a very loud boom while feeling the back of my seat shake slightly. I turned around to see that one of the guys behind me, evidently beyond drunk, had somehow attempted some ridiculous maneuver and ended up flat on his back on the concrete flooring. He laid there momentarily, like a stunned animal, with his feet up into the air. Then, with a spring in his step, he jumped up and said, “I’m okay! I’m okay!” To prove it, he danced around a little. I could only think, wow…nothing like getting plastered at an orchestral concert!
After the intermission, the show began right where it had left off and immediately was gripping once again. It was now completely dark outside so the lighting was able to be used to its’ full effect. One of the true standout tracks from the second half was “Rhythm of the Heat”. Not only was the song fully realized with the orchestral arrangement, the video screens also complimented with an eerie effect of showing the conductor, with his wildly waving hands and thickly gelled hair flopping up and down, going crazy as he tried to get the musicians to put even more passion into their playing. The crowd erupted with thunderous applause.
The weather completely cooperated in the end. I felt a total of four raindrops during the performance and nothing more. No hail, no fierce winds, etc. Even the temperature was pleasant and most of all…no mosquito bites either. What more could I ask for?
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| The New Blood Orchestra during the ending portion of "Rhythm of the Heat" |
Once the show ended, I made my way over to the merchandise stand and picked up a rather cool looking “New Blood” t-shirt and poster. I waited as long as possible before trying to venture out of the grass parking lot in order to avoid traffic. As I waited in my car, I couldn’t help but smile in regards to the performance. I had indeed chosen wisely seeing the show in Kansas City and, even though I had missed the Hollywood Bowl show from the previous year, I had more than made up for it.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Some Powerful Words Evidently
Wow… One whole day after I publish my blog entry “Borders Goes Way Over the Border”, Borders makes headlines and announces that they’re closing all of their remaining stores. I can’t say that I didn’t warn them, even if it was a tad bit late. Actually, I had written the entry a few weeks ago and just never got around to publishing it. I guess, if nothing else, you can say that I can smell a financial disaster in the making. I can’t say I’m shocked, really, since, after all, a 100%+ markup on in-stock goods is quite a bizarre strategy for selling anything.
In the meantime, we’re all sweating to death out here in Minnesota as the latest heat wave steals all of our energy away. Some year in weather 2011 is turning out to be. First, we get a record amount of snow, a winter that simply won’t end, and now we’re all dying of heat stroke. Yes, Minnesota weather, let me tell ya… It’s so hot and humid that all of my windows are steamed up so that you can’t see a blasted thing out of them. When I get out of the car, my glasses fog up for about 2 minutes. It’s fun stuff. And, even more fun…it just hailed again briefly about an hour ago, literally as my car is in for repairs for, yes, you guessed it, hail damage. At least it’s in the right spot to repair the new damage with the old.
In the meantime, we’re all sweating to death out here in Minnesota as the latest heat wave steals all of our energy away. Some year in weather 2011 is turning out to be. First, we get a record amount of snow, a winter that simply won’t end, and now we’re all dying of heat stroke. Yes, Minnesota weather, let me tell ya… It’s so hot and humid that all of my windows are steamed up so that you can’t see a blasted thing out of them. When I get out of the car, my glasses fog up for about 2 minutes. It’s fun stuff. And, even more fun…it just hailed again briefly about an hour ago, literally as my car is in for repairs for, yes, you guessed it, hail damage. At least it’s in the right spot to repair the new damage with the old.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Borders Goes Way Over The Border
I have a new store to complain about: Borders. This really shouldn’t be much of a surprise and you all have probably already complained about them in your own heads at some point. I really don’t shop there very often at all and I was just rudely reminded as to why I don’t.
I occasionally do these survey thingys online that earn me points and such. When you accumulate a certain amount of points, you can then turn them in for various items from different retailers. The list of retailers is incredibly lame and one of the few on there that even sort of appeals to me is Borders. And so, I decided to trade in my points for so called Borders Bucks.
I’m not entirely sure if this was a good decision or not. I just looked at various prices on items that I have on my Amazon.com wish list and nearly fainted. It’s amazing, really. For example, the film “Amelie” is coming out finally on Blu Ray this month and it’s currently selling for $14.99 on Amazon. Even stranger, Amazon shows the “list” price at $19.99. And how much is it on Borders.com? $40.99. Yes, that’s right, $40.99. Seriously, I have no clue how any respected business can come up with that sort of price!
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It didn’t stop there, though. I searched 10-12 various items from different categories off of my Amazon list and compared the prices to Borders.com. It’s ridiculous. There are movies, such as “The Kids are All Right”, which NEVER is more than $22 anywhere (Target, Best Buy, etc.), listed on Borders.com for $41.99. It took me 20 minutes to find a product that was only listed for $3 more than on my Amazon list. On average, most products seem to be marked up $8-$10.
I’ve discussed this verbally before. I know that the internet age severely hurt companies like Borders, Waldenbooks, Circuit City, and even Best Buy, and I fully understand the mentality that buying something right off the rack versus waiting 1-2 weeks for Amazon to deliver it is considered a premium in this day and age. I do sort of follow this thinking but seriously, $20 more? More than double? That I don’t follow. It’s highway robbery, insulting, and literally makes me hate the company that’s doing it.
In my opinion, there’s a really good reason why a lot of these 80’s and 90’s-ish companies are failing and going out of business: whoever is in charge and making decisions on these things is clearly a complete idiot and terribly out of touch with reality, appropriate price markup’s, and ultimately the modern day consumer. Borders, go ahead and shoot yourselves in the foot, if you wish, but don’t say that I didn’t tell you so!
Meanwhile, my measly $15 in Borders Bucks that I’m now stuck with may end up costing me more money than if I just purchased the product directly. I guess I can stop doing those surveys now.
I occasionally do these survey thingys online that earn me points and such. When you accumulate a certain amount of points, you can then turn them in for various items from different retailers. The list of retailers is incredibly lame and one of the few on there that even sort of appeals to me is Borders. And so, I decided to trade in my points for so called Borders Bucks.
I’m not entirely sure if this was a good decision or not. I just looked at various prices on items that I have on my Amazon.com wish list and nearly fainted. It’s amazing, really. For example, the film “Amelie” is coming out finally on Blu Ray this month and it’s currently selling for $14.99 on Amazon. Even stranger, Amazon shows the “list” price at $19.99. And how much is it on Borders.com? $40.99. Yes, that’s right, $40.99. Seriously, I have no clue how any respected business can come up with that sort of price!
I’ve discussed this verbally before. I know that the internet age severely hurt companies like Borders, Waldenbooks, Circuit City, and even Best Buy, and I fully understand the mentality that buying something right off the rack versus waiting 1-2 weeks for Amazon to deliver it is considered a premium in this day and age. I do sort of follow this thinking but seriously, $20 more? More than double? That I don’t follow. It’s highway robbery, insulting, and literally makes me hate the company that’s doing it.
In my opinion, there’s a really good reason why a lot of these 80’s and 90’s-ish companies are failing and going out of business: whoever is in charge and making decisions on these things is clearly a complete idiot and terribly out of touch with reality, appropriate price markup’s, and ultimately the modern day consumer. Borders, go ahead and shoot yourselves in the foot, if you wish, but don’t say that I didn’t tell you so!
Meanwhile, my measly $15 in Borders Bucks that I’m now stuck with may end up costing me more money than if I just purchased the product directly. I guess I can stop doing those surveys now.
Sunday, June 26, 2011
Marillion Weekend 2011, April 8-10th, Montreal, Quebec - Part 4
Part 4 – Monday, April 11th
I woke up to the sound of rain hitting against my window. I fell back asleep and then awoke to a rather loud buzzing/vibrating sound, like when a bus parks outside and goes into hibernation mode. I guess people just don’t sleep at the Days Inn Centreville. Well, at least, people don’t sleep on the lower level floors. Or, maybe it’s just me…who knows.
All three mornings I woke up feeling like I had a hangover and yet I hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol. It just goes to show how much sweating I did at the venue each night. It took about an hour for my water intake to start to balance out again and then, shortly after that, I had coffee. Yeah, go figure.
I looked up alternate Delta flights online, just in case there was a chance of taking an earlier flight out. I was then reminded of how I ended up with this late flight in the first place…it’s one of only two non-stop flights to MSP with the other leaving too early in the morning for my taste. It appeared I was stuck with leaving at 6pm.
I wasn’t feeling the greatest, still experiencing that faux hangover feeling. Still, I didn’t want to sit around in the hotel lobby, Starbucks, or the airport for multiple hours. No, instead I decided to hoof it, as they say, once again towards the Basilique Notre Dame, the only other sight that I really had my heart set on seeing this time around. This meant venturing down from my hotel towards Vieux Montreal, the old original city area, a place I hadn’t yet ventured in to.
I feared that it would be yet another long walk that would completely tire me out. Instead, I actually got sort of rejuvenated by the walk and came alive more and more as I started to inch toward the old city. The weather was supposed to be 70 degrees but it looked much more like rain with a fierce wind blowing. I’d say the temperature was closer to 50 degrees when I left the hotel.
I found the Basilique Notre Dame and it was practically right next to Starbucks. It’s never a bad idea to know where the nearest Starbucks is after all, especially if it starts raining. I walked around the outside of the Basilique and was quite impressed. I wasn’t sure if it was “open”, per se, since the place was completely deserted. I then decided to try the door and voila! It opened! And so, I ventured in to find an older man sitting behind a counter reading a book, expecting payment. I paid the $5 admission fee and he politely said in a massive French accent, “…pictures okay…”. Ah, good to know!
The exterior of the Basilique was pretty impressive; the inside was even more grand. It was completely on par with the cathedrals that I had seen in England. This was definitely worth the price of admission and I ended up taking lots of my usual weird angle shots.
After leaving, I decided to walk around Old Montreal a bit more and perhaps find where the river runs along the port. The more I walked the more fascinated I became. Wow. It wasn’t long before I realized my biggest error of both trips to Montreal…not coming to freakin’ Old Montreal! Ugh! This was right up my alley and here I’ve spent both of my trips amongst 10 million college students, rushing around back and forth on the metro and surrounded with cigarette smoke!
Yes, here were all the adults! I HAD been wondering, after all, since practically everyone I passed was between the ages of 18 and 25. This was also evidently the area where all the good restaurants were. F***! No, make that a double! Here, I’ve eaten at all these goofy locations (minus Aux Vivres, which was quite awesome) when I could have been eating in REAL restaurants just a half mile from my stupid hotel! Ah, yes, my friends…the egg was on my face (no pun intended for you breakfast lovers).
I continued my walk, looking at the various sights, taking weird pictures, and reading the various menus that I came across. Yes, I really had missed out. Sh*t, now I HAD to come back. If I do return, I most definitely will be spending my whole trip down in that area.
It was then that it started to rain (again). It just seemed to be my luck, really. At first, it wasn’t a big deal, just more or less the moderate drizzle from the day before. Then, it started to pick up and I started to notice the rain falling in streams off my hat. It was time to head back to the Starbuck’s for awhile. See what I mean? Always find a sanctuary, whatever sort you prefer.
No sooner did I enter Starbuck’s, order, sit down, etc., but the rain stopped and a bright yellow sun filled the sky. I truly felt that Montreal was somehow laughing at me but I’m usually a semi-decent sport. Heck, I laugh at myself all the time.
I ordered a very small dessert thing that looked interesting. The girl that took my order said, “Oh, you want the whoopee pie?” I looked at her with a silly look. “I don’t know…do I?! I guess I do!” I really wanted to make a crass joke but feared it wouldn't come out right so I kept it at that. The dessert basically consisted of what looked like two red velvet cookies with icing in the middle. After picking it up and eating it, it stained my fingers and napkin lipstick red. I became paranoid that my lips were now lipsticked as well. I decided to go to the restroom, just to make sure.
I debated about going to Chez Suzette, a crepe place that was supposed to be pretty good that I just happened to pass by unsuspectingly. I looked at the menu and it certainly sounded great. Why couldn’t I have found this place two days ago? I wondered if I should go in and eat rather than waiting to eat at the airport. It had only been a few hours since I had breakfast, though, so it would end up being more of a force feeding, if you know what I mean. But heck, the food was bound to be a million times better than the airport. I pondered but then resisted. Instead, I returned to the hotel, collected my suitcase, and headed off to the bus stop for the 747 Express bus.
When the bus arrived, I promptly boarded and swiped my card, all the time hoping my STM pass would still work (which it did), and walked two steps to the luggage rack. The bus driver immediately made a rocket start and I almost fell three rows down the aisle. Apparently he was in a major hurry.
The bus ride was incredible (again). If the metro doesn’t make you sick to your stomach, the bus most certainly will. I’m not sure where these drivers get their driving instruction but man, they simply must be instructed to drive as erratically as possible. The extremely rough pot-holed roads didn’t help either. Had I eaten at Chez Suzette, there would have been no guarantee that I would have been able to hold it down.
At one point, a young girl got on the bus and sat directly across from me. She had a mostly eaten apple in her mouth…not being held by a hand, mind you…just her mouth, kind of like a pig at a pig roast, but for some reason she looked more like a fish to me because of the way her eyes were bugging out. She held it in her mouth for at least 3 minutes, never making any gesture to grab it, all the while staring around with big eyes over the core at the people around her as if we were the ones with the apples in our mouths. I must say that in all my years I’ve never seen anyone do this before and I wasn’t sure if I should be afraid or laugh hysterically. Once she took the apple out, she took the last few bites of it and then promptly fell asleep. Bizarre!
It was then that the guy next to me started asking me questions in French. I tried to make it clear that I didn’t speak French and that just seemed to make him ask even more questions. On top of that, he started getting mildly angry. I was completely thrown off. Luckily, another guy stepped in to the one sided conversation and cleared things up.
Back at the airport, it was the usual hokey pokey trying to get through security. In Canada, you have to go through multiple check points for some reason and then you actually go through US Customs at the same time prior to boarding the plane. I never can understand why they make us hold so many different items and expect us not to lose anything. Mind you, you’re already holding your suitcase, probably a carry-on, and then you’ve got your passport, your customs form, your boarding pass, etc. It’s pretty freakin’ crazy.
In the customs line, there was a rather large recreation of the Statue of Liberty which made me giggle. It seemed kind of silly, like we needed a reminder that that’s where the statue was located. I couldn’t help but jokingly wonder why they didn’t have something like that on the US side for Canadian departures. Imagine a large moose beckoning you or some Canadian Mounted Policeman.
My dinner choices were as I expected: very slim. I had only $9 Canadian left and so that even further limited my options. Believe it or not, I went to Burger King for a BK Veggie meal. Bad choice! There was literally nobody there and only one woman working the registers. She was clearly upset about something having to do with work and I heard her yelling something about “…HR expects me to wear…!” When I walked up, she didn’t even acknowledge me. I ordered and she practically threw my drink cup at me. Motioning to her left, she said rather abruptly, “The soda fountain’s over there.” Yikes! Just think what they did to my food!
That left me with literally just change in my pocket in Canadian money. I went to the Currency Exchange and asked if he had a minimum. He said, “Let me see what you’ve got and I’ll tell you.” I laid out what amounted to about 85 cents. “No, no, there’s a five dollar minimum,” he barked. Maybe I was delirious but I would have sworn that was exactly what I had just asked him. “If you don’t want it, there’s a donation box over there,” he said, pointing down the hallway. And so, I donated my change to a cause that I couldn’t read since it was only in French. Hopefully it was something I agree with!
I sat down and waited to board my plane. Just then, who shows up and sits practically right next to me? Yes, it’s the Sasquatch guy from the previous night’s show. Apparently he lives in Minneapolis as well. I couldn’t help but think of those “Messin’ with Sasquatch” commercials for Jack Link’s Beef Jerky. I briefly debated about talking to him but every time I tried to catch his attention, he seemed to be looking away or right through me. He also seemed mildly annoyed and, well, it’s best not to tick off Sasquatch, based especially on those commercials.
After that, it was the usual flight home. You know, cramped seating, germ filled air, numb butt, you name it.
It was, again, one heck of a weekend, in one sort or another. It seemed like a really long weekend, actually, and it completely exhausted me in more ways than one. What can I say? Marillion are always amazing and they were nothing short this year, even if the crowd wasn’t always the greatest. As for Montreal, it really is a pretty interesting town that I do recommend visiting. If I do return, I hope to maybe finally eat at the right restaurants in the right part of town. Heck, third time’s a charm, right?
I woke up to the sound of rain hitting against my window. I fell back asleep and then awoke to a rather loud buzzing/vibrating sound, like when a bus parks outside and goes into hibernation mode. I guess people just don’t sleep at the Days Inn Centreville. Well, at least, people don’t sleep on the lower level floors. Or, maybe it’s just me…who knows.
All three mornings I woke up feeling like I had a hangover and yet I hadn’t had an ounce of alcohol. It just goes to show how much sweating I did at the venue each night. It took about an hour for my water intake to start to balance out again and then, shortly after that, I had coffee. Yeah, go figure.
I looked up alternate Delta flights online, just in case there was a chance of taking an earlier flight out. I was then reminded of how I ended up with this late flight in the first place…it’s one of only two non-stop flights to MSP with the other leaving too early in the morning for my taste. It appeared I was stuck with leaving at 6pm.
I wasn’t feeling the greatest, still experiencing that faux hangover feeling. Still, I didn’t want to sit around in the hotel lobby, Starbucks, or the airport for multiple hours. No, instead I decided to hoof it, as they say, once again towards the Basilique Notre Dame, the only other sight that I really had my heart set on seeing this time around. This meant venturing down from my hotel towards Vieux Montreal, the old original city area, a place I hadn’t yet ventured in to.
I feared that it would be yet another long walk that would completely tire me out. Instead, I actually got sort of rejuvenated by the walk and came alive more and more as I started to inch toward the old city. The weather was supposed to be 70 degrees but it looked much more like rain with a fierce wind blowing. I’d say the temperature was closer to 50 degrees when I left the hotel.
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| The Basilique Notre Dame |
The exterior of the Basilique was pretty impressive; the inside was even more grand. It was completely on par with the cathedrals that I had seen in England. This was definitely worth the price of admission and I ended up taking lots of my usual weird angle shots.
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| The inside of the Basilique Notre Dame |
Yes, here were all the adults! I HAD been wondering, after all, since practically everyone I passed was between the ages of 18 and 25. This was also evidently the area where all the good restaurants were. F***! No, make that a double! Here, I’ve eaten at all these goofy locations (minus Aux Vivres, which was quite awesome) when I could have been eating in REAL restaurants just a half mile from my stupid hotel! Ah, yes, my friends…the egg was on my face (no pun intended for you breakfast lovers).
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| A random street in Vieux Montreal |
It was then that it started to rain (again). It just seemed to be my luck, really. At first, it wasn’t a big deal, just more or less the moderate drizzle from the day before. Then, it started to pick up and I started to notice the rain falling in streams off my hat. It was time to head back to the Starbuck’s for awhile. See what I mean? Always find a sanctuary, whatever sort you prefer.
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| A port at Vieux Montreal |
I ordered a very small dessert thing that looked interesting. The girl that took my order said, “Oh, you want the whoopee pie?” I looked at her with a silly look. “I don’t know…do I?! I guess I do!” I really wanted to make a crass joke but feared it wouldn't come out right so I kept it at that. The dessert basically consisted of what looked like two red velvet cookies with icing in the middle. After picking it up and eating it, it stained my fingers and napkin lipstick red. I became paranoid that my lips were now lipsticked as well. I decided to go to the restroom, just to make sure.
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| Another street view around Vieux Montreal |
When the bus arrived, I promptly boarded and swiped my card, all the time hoping my STM pass would still work (which it did), and walked two steps to the luggage rack. The bus driver immediately made a rocket start and I almost fell three rows down the aisle. Apparently he was in a major hurry.
The bus ride was incredible (again). If the metro doesn’t make you sick to your stomach, the bus most certainly will. I’m not sure where these drivers get their driving instruction but man, they simply must be instructed to drive as erratically as possible. The extremely rough pot-holed roads didn’t help either. Had I eaten at Chez Suzette, there would have been no guarantee that I would have been able to hold it down.
At one point, a young girl got on the bus and sat directly across from me. She had a mostly eaten apple in her mouth…not being held by a hand, mind you…just her mouth, kind of like a pig at a pig roast, but for some reason she looked more like a fish to me because of the way her eyes were bugging out. She held it in her mouth for at least 3 minutes, never making any gesture to grab it, all the while staring around with big eyes over the core at the people around her as if we were the ones with the apples in our mouths. I must say that in all my years I’ve never seen anyone do this before and I wasn’t sure if I should be afraid or laugh hysterically. Once she took the apple out, she took the last few bites of it and then promptly fell asleep. Bizarre!
It was then that the guy next to me started asking me questions in French. I tried to make it clear that I didn’t speak French and that just seemed to make him ask even more questions. On top of that, he started getting mildly angry. I was completely thrown off. Luckily, another guy stepped in to the one sided conversation and cleared things up.
Back at the airport, it was the usual hokey pokey trying to get through security. In Canada, you have to go through multiple check points for some reason and then you actually go through US Customs at the same time prior to boarding the plane. I never can understand why they make us hold so many different items and expect us not to lose anything. Mind you, you’re already holding your suitcase, probably a carry-on, and then you’ve got your passport, your customs form, your boarding pass, etc. It’s pretty freakin’ crazy.
In the customs line, there was a rather large recreation of the Statue of Liberty which made me giggle. It seemed kind of silly, like we needed a reminder that that’s where the statue was located. I couldn’t help but jokingly wonder why they didn’t have something like that on the US side for Canadian departures. Imagine a large moose beckoning you or some Canadian Mounted Policeman.
My dinner choices were as I expected: very slim. I had only $9 Canadian left and so that even further limited my options. Believe it or not, I went to Burger King for a BK Veggie meal. Bad choice! There was literally nobody there and only one woman working the registers. She was clearly upset about something having to do with work and I heard her yelling something about “…HR expects me to wear…!” When I walked up, she didn’t even acknowledge me. I ordered and she practically threw my drink cup at me. Motioning to her left, she said rather abruptly, “The soda fountain’s over there.” Yikes! Just think what they did to my food!
That left me with literally just change in my pocket in Canadian money. I went to the Currency Exchange and asked if he had a minimum. He said, “Let me see what you’ve got and I’ll tell you.” I laid out what amounted to about 85 cents. “No, no, there’s a five dollar minimum,” he barked. Maybe I was delirious but I would have sworn that was exactly what I had just asked him. “If you don’t want it, there’s a donation box over there,” he said, pointing down the hallway. And so, I donated my change to a cause that I couldn’t read since it was only in French. Hopefully it was something I agree with!
I sat down and waited to board my plane. Just then, who shows up and sits practically right next to me? Yes, it’s the Sasquatch guy from the previous night’s show. Apparently he lives in Minneapolis as well. I couldn’t help but think of those “Messin’ with Sasquatch” commercials for Jack Link’s Beef Jerky. I briefly debated about talking to him but every time I tried to catch his attention, he seemed to be looking away or right through me. He also seemed mildly annoyed and, well, it’s best not to tick off Sasquatch, based especially on those commercials.
After that, it was the usual flight home. You know, cramped seating, germ filled air, numb butt, you name it.
It was, again, one heck of a weekend, in one sort or another. It seemed like a really long weekend, actually, and it completely exhausted me in more ways than one. What can I say? Marillion are always amazing and they were nothing short this year, even if the crowd wasn’t always the greatest. As for Montreal, it really is a pretty interesting town that I do recommend visiting. If I do return, I hope to maybe finally eat at the right restaurants in the right part of town. Heck, third time’s a charm, right?
Tuesday, June 21, 2011
Marillion Weekend 2011, April 8-10th, Montreal, Quebec - Part 3
Part 3 – Sunday, April 10th
I woke up way too early the next morning to the sound of what I believed to be pounding feet on most likely stairs. Strangely, I couldn’t find a stairwell anywhere but that’s certainly what it sounded like. It sounded like a few kids running up and down on the stairs, making sure to firmly pound their feet on each step as they went. It was a fantastic way to awake (sarcasm, of course).
As usual, once I’m awake, I’m, well, pretty much awake. I tried to resist getting up but it wasn’t happening. And so, I got up, showered, dressed, and headed out for breakfast relatively close to an actual breakfast time which is a rarity for me.
Out in the street, I once again headed off to the nearest metro station. Every time I ventured to the metro it seemed to get further and further away. I passed, as usual, countless people outside smoking, some which looked like they were about to keel over at any moment. One thing I can definitely say about Montreal…they need a serious ‘stop smoking’ campaign.
I had decided to try breakfast at a restaurant called Burgers and Benedicts, a place that I had passed the previous day on my way out from the AMC Theater. I couldn’t resist since I’m a bit of a benedict fanatic. Like everything thus far, it was a bit of a haul to get there but, seriously, what can you do, right?
Upon arriving, the place was fairly deserted which was certainly fine by me. My breakfast ended up being quite nice. I ordered the weekend special which was a benedict of 2 eggs over avocado on, of all things, French toast. It had a mixture of flavors that really didn’t go together at all…and yet somehow they came back around to create a pleasing flavor. Their coffee ended up being about the strongest coffee I’ve ever had in my life, so much so that I stopped after two cups. I like strong coffee but this was a bit extraordinary.
After paying for breakfast, I decided to take the metro quite a ways in the opposite direction in order to see Parc Olympique. This location has a few “famous” landmarks including the Botanical Gardens, the Biodome, etc. After exiting the metro, I was a bit confused since it basically dumped us in a completely deserted chamber. A few other people got off the metro as well and so I simply decided to follow them. It was quite bizarre. We were walking through this area that had nothing but old run down looking concrete in all directions. We finally reached a door and then began a trek outside, still encapsulated more or less with concrete all around us. At times, it looked like we were walking through a service area, or perhaps a backstage sort of area where you’d usually see roadies loading and unloading gear…except there was no one in sight. I had serious doubts if we were walking in the right direction.
We finally made a turn and, sure enough, there’s the Biodome, shoved in the middle of this concrete. It seemed a bit ironic, really. There were finally other people around as well including quite a few screaming kids running in all directions. I briefly looked through the windows of the Biodome and decided to pass on going in. Instead, I figured I’d do something free, like walking through the botanical gardens.
Getting to the gardens was just as weird. There were a few concrete barriers setup that I had to walk through. Again, it looked like an area where only people with a “pass” would be allowed. There was even a guard sitting in a little booth. He looked at me as I passed by but didn’t ask any questions nor did he attempt to stop me. I could only guess that I was headed in the right direction.
It was a rather steep hill but I eventually arrived outside a gate to what I believed to be the Botanical Gardens. The gate, however, was open. Hmm. I waited a bit for someone else to walk through first. I eventually deduced that it was okay although I was under the impression that there was a nominal fee for touring the gardens.
Walking around the grounds was nice but nothing was really growing yet since it was still rather cold outside. There were also patches of snow still on the ground, the last remnants of a fairly harsh winter. I was particularly fascinated by the Japanese garden/pavilion area and ended up taking quite a few pictures there.
I stayed perhaps a little over a half hour and then made my way back down the long bizarre concrete path to the metro station. At this point, I was getting pretty exhausted again from all of the walking. I boarded the metro and rode it back to the usual Berri-UQAM station. I exited the metro, flashed my metro pass through the turnstyle, and to my complete amazement…I was standing in front of a small Dunkin Donuts shop. Um..where did this come from?! Now, a bit of history here… I’ve had this thing for Dunkin Donuts for quite some time and since there are none in Minnesota, it’s sort of become a bit blown out of proportion. Still, last time I was in Montreal, I specifically searched for a DD and there were none. On top of that, I’d been in this metro station countless times on this trip and had never seen it. It was like it had materialized out of nowhere! I was completely dumbfounded! Unfortunately, I wasn’t even the least bit hungry.
I went back to my hotel and simply veg’d for awhile. It wasn’t long before the clock was approaching 2pm and so I ventured out once again, this time for the Marillion “day session”. This was the first time that Marillion decided to do some sort of free day session consisting of things like Q&A with the band, “swap the band”, etc. It sounded interesting enough and so I couldn’t resist.
I was really quite impressed with how many people showed up. In my rough estimate, I’d have to say that 50% of the “normal” audience was there. The day session was really quite extraordinary and gave me a glimpse of the band in a way that I had not seen before. There were also a few contests held for some of the banner artwork that displayed in the theater and the winners were allowed to come on stage, briefly meet the band, and then have their pictures taken with the band with the audience cheering behind them. Unfortunately, there were a bunch of guys, presumably from France, holding up a “The Web France” banner (“The Web” is an old Marillion song that became the name of the various Marillion fan clubs around the world) that pretty much blocked out everyone behind them from the shots, of which I was one of them.
There were also two people whose birthdays happened to be on that very day and so the band invited them to come up and get their pictures taken as well. Pretty cool stuff!
The real “coolness”, though, was the “swap the band” session. I believe this contest was held online earlier in the year, where Marillion fans were invited to send in some sort of demo of them posing as any one of the band members of Marillion by playing/singing any song they wish. The winners were then invited to the convention and asked to perform their chosen song live on stage! I mean, how incredibly cool is that? There was a young guy who played guitar on the song “Kayleigh” while, bizarrely enough, a young girl named Kayleigh sang it. Later on, yet another girl named Kayleigh sang the track “Afraid of Sunlight”. She was incredibly in to it and clearly really loving the audience’s reaction, so much so that she got a bit American Idol on us.
One of the best parts was listening to the various band members trying to read the handwritten names of people on index cards. Pete, the bassist, tried to read one extremely French name: “Um…it’s..um…Serge somebody…?” He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. “I’m sorry…um…Serge…wherever you are!”
During the Q&A portion, someone had asked the question, “Why Montreal?” H handled this question. “I’m assuming you’re meaning why have the North American convention here versus the USA…” He went on to explain how Montreal has always had a special vibe for the band which he’s stated before. He also added, though, how the US has made it both time consuming and expensive when trying to get a visa, and how it’s hard to justify. He ended by saying, “So, for the Americans in the audience…you may want to tell your elected officials to lighten up the restrictions since it’s turning many people away from touring there.” It was slightly harsh but, alas, very true. I’ve seen firsthand how the number of non-US resident tours has gone done greatly since 2001 and it’s been quite unfortunate.
The good news, though, was that H added that a US tour was indeed already in the works for the next album and, in his words, “…would be happening within the next 14 months.” So, all you US Marillion fans out there, start preparing now since this could be your last chance!
The day session in general really was quite amazing. I know I keep saying this over and over but there’s simply no other band out there like this one. You really can’t help but love them. They are true role models for what other artists should be when it comes to their fans.
Here are the songs that were played during the “swap the band” portion:
Kayleigh (sung by Kayleigh #1)
The Party
Cover My Eyes
Afraid of Sunlight (sung by Kayleigh #2)
After the session was over, on the way out of the venue, I passed a guy in the street who was gently singing “Afraid of Sunlight” to himself with a rather thick French accent. It both warmed my heart and made me slightly giggle at the same time. Music really does bring people together.
I trekked back again to the hotel. I flipped on the TV, hoping to find something to watch for a little while. The best I could find was “Jaws” in French. I don’t know but something was just lost in the translation, I think.
I started preparing mentally for dinner, meaning where I was going to eat, etc. After a bit of thinking, I decided upon Aux Vivres (http://www.auxvivres.com/en/home/), a seemingly well known place billed as the “original” vegan restaurant of Montreal which, of course, was quite a ways from my hotel. Walking a ton more was the last thing I wanted to do but there really wasn’t much of an alternative. And so, I set off again to the metro station.
After a short ride, I exited the metro and started my walk through a nice hip looking neighborhood in search of the restaurant. I barely got a few blocks into it and it started to lightly rain. By the time I reached the café, it was just starting to rain pretty hard, enough to soak my hat very thoroughly.
Inside, Aux Vivres was pretty close to fully packed. I couldn’t believe how busy the restaurant was. The place was clearly popular! I looked over the menu and while it wasn’t exactly a glamorous selection of food, it was definitely a large one with tons of variety. There were tons of sandwich-like options to choose from and it made it a bit difficult to actually come to a decision.
The food was excellent! I ended up having a Mekong sandwich on chapatti that was simply a burst of flavor to my taste buds. I also had a Bombay Banana smoothie and some sort of soup that I can’t remember. Overall, it was absolutely the best food I had eaten in Montreal. It was obvious why the place was so packed. I was also extremely impressed by the wide variety of people who were eating there. Usually, you think of vegans as a particular type of hipster but there were entire families with little kids, older adults, etc., all seemingly enjoying the food.
Upon paying my bill, I had a hard time getting out the door since the place was even more crowded now than previously with many people waiting for a table. I made my way out the door and back in to the rain which had now thankfully lightened up. Upon walking back to the metro station, I debated…do I really dare? I thought about it and then figured what the heck.
I started making my way out to a small dessert café called, ironically, Calories, which I had visited on my previous trip. Calories is way on the other end of town, again, kind of back by where I had breakfast. The worst thing about this café is that you do have to walk outside a bit to get there and it’s kind of a drag in the rain.
I can’t say for sure but it looked like the café had changed owners. None of the cheesecake selections really appealed to me but, well, I was there and figured I needed to get something. I settled upon a slice of the turtle cheesecake and a coffee. Thankfully, the coffee was much lighter than what I had at the beginning of the day at Burgers and Benedicts. The cheesecake, though, was of the soft kind, almost with a texture not unlike firm whipped cream, and all I could really taste was a ton of sugar and no real actual flavor. Needless to say, it wasn’t my favorite. I prefer traditional plain hard cheesecake which they seem to advertise in their picture and yet haven’t had either time I’ve been there. I think next time I think I’ll try elsewhere and hopefully closer!
I once again returned to my hotel completely and totally exhausted. I got back a bit later than was I expecting and it left me only one hour until the evening’s performance. I couldn’t help but wonder how I would ever make it through. The previous night had so much energy that I didn’t think I could ever get to that point again!
3rd Show
Well, it became a non-issue of sorts. It was during this third and last performance that my luck finally completely ran out. It ended up being a pretty lame evening for me, much, much worse than the first show, and pretty much the entire show was ruined by audience members around me. The idiot quotient in the venue seemed to be at an all time high that evening.
I’m sure Marillion themselves were fantastic as always, of course, but I wouldn’t know since no matter who I stood near, they apparently seemed more in to holding a loud conversation rather than watching or listening to the band. It was quite maddening. I moved multiple times throughout the audience but there wasn’t much room to be had so I ended up drifting back and forth between four different spots. Three were filled with constant talkers and laughers; one had a guy I dubbed as Sasquatch, someone so tall that I couldn’t see a blasted thing around his head and hair. Worse yet, there was a younger kid with an upright brimmed baseball hat right behind him who was also fairly tall and insisted on waving his head from side to side so that his head acted like a pendulum to the bigger/hairier Sasquatch, completely blocking my few every few seconds, first left, then right, and so on. Some show!
Something very unfortunate happened pretty early on in the show. During the “Mad” portion of “Goodbye to All That”, H was holding a small crystal ball in his hands on stage. He suddenly decided to chuck it into the audience, which immediately seemed like a big mistake in my eyes, and of course the audience members started hitting it around as if it was a beachball. Well, I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. Now, mind you, this was a small mirrorball, probably with a hollow or styrofoam center so that it was fairly light, but it still had the mirrors on the outside so at least the outer core was fairly solid and potentially sharp. I kept my eye on the thing, fearing an accident was about to happen and I can sometimes be a magnet for such a thing. Sure enough, someone punched the tiny mirrorball way up into the air and it fell and hit some poor unsuspecting guy on the other side of the venue a couple feet in front of me. It hit him with a terrible smack on the side of the head and he bent over, in obvious pain, holding his right ear for a very long time. People started asking him if he was okay and he simply kept holding his ear. I couldn’t hear him but I think he asked the guy next to him if there was any blood, which there didn’t appear to be. I think, with the way the ball hit him, that it might have either affected his hearing for awhile or perhaps it could have fractured the cartilage in his ear. I’m not sure but I felt very sorry for the guy who didn’t even see the thing coming at him. It was a really poor choice of H to toss the ball into the audience. Hopefully, lesson learned.
Marillion played again for about 3 hours. They played a great set too, filled with some songs that I had always wanted to hear live. It was too bad that the sound of talking overpowered the songs. Ugh.
The theme of the evening was “the Glo must Go On”. This ended up meaning that we were all handed Glo Sticks on our way in, and the idea was that the audience was to vote between two different songs for which they preferred to hear. The band would then take a quick count of people holding up sticks and then play the appropriate song. It was quite a cool idea. Eventually, when the band posed a really hard choice between two songs that everyone wanted to hear, a chant began of “Both! Both! Both!!!” The whole place more or less rang out in protest, wanting to hear both tracks. In the end, they caved in on at least one of them.
There were a couple of flubs in the show. During “Estonia”, a true fan favorite, Steve Rothery’s guitar refused to work and the majority of the song went without him while he frantically tried to communicate with his guitar tech.
Also, before “Easter”, H told the story of how they first played the song as a band. H had apparently just joined the band and had the main body of the song more or less already written out. He had pointed out how the middle of the track needed something in it and thought Steve Rothery could maybe play something during that part. Supposedly, the very first time they ran through the track as a band, Rothery played the solo that was eventually recorded almost verbatim. In the words of H with the usual English accent, “…so yeah, Rothery literally blew it out of his ass…” Rothery’s eyes widened as he glanced over at H, clearly mouthing a “What?!!” and smiling just the same.
Here’s the set list to the best of my memory. I’m sure there are errors here, considering the circumstances, so, as usual, don’t take it verbatim:
Goodbye to All That
Hard as Love (more or less the Less is More version)
Afraid of Sunlight
One Fine Day
Beyond You
Go!
Brave
Estonia
Between You and Me
Ocean Cloud
Happiness is the Road
Neverland
The Great Escape
Easter
This Strange Engine
The band actually closed with “Easter” and I thought they were most certainly done for the night. Everyone was heading out of the theater when they decided to come back and start into “This Strange Engine”. I decided to simply stand way in the back by the soundboard and listen/watch uninterrupted. It was lame being that far back but it had been even more lame being up close. Sigh.
With that, I returned to my hotel room and did my best not to brood about it too much. You win some, you lose some, and this was clearly a loss.
I woke up way too early the next morning to the sound of what I believed to be pounding feet on most likely stairs. Strangely, I couldn’t find a stairwell anywhere but that’s certainly what it sounded like. It sounded like a few kids running up and down on the stairs, making sure to firmly pound their feet on each step as they went. It was a fantastic way to awake (sarcasm, of course).
As usual, once I’m awake, I’m, well, pretty much awake. I tried to resist getting up but it wasn’t happening. And so, I got up, showered, dressed, and headed out for breakfast relatively close to an actual breakfast time which is a rarity for me.
Out in the street, I once again headed off to the nearest metro station. Every time I ventured to the metro it seemed to get further and further away. I passed, as usual, countless people outside smoking, some which looked like they were about to keel over at any moment. One thing I can definitely say about Montreal…they need a serious ‘stop smoking’ campaign.
I had decided to try breakfast at a restaurant called Burgers and Benedicts, a place that I had passed the previous day on my way out from the AMC Theater. I couldn’t resist since I’m a bit of a benedict fanatic. Like everything thus far, it was a bit of a haul to get there but, seriously, what can you do, right?
Upon arriving, the place was fairly deserted which was certainly fine by me. My breakfast ended up being quite nice. I ordered the weekend special which was a benedict of 2 eggs over avocado on, of all things, French toast. It had a mixture of flavors that really didn’t go together at all…and yet somehow they came back around to create a pleasing flavor. Their coffee ended up being about the strongest coffee I’ve ever had in my life, so much so that I stopped after two cups. I like strong coffee but this was a bit extraordinary.
After paying for breakfast, I decided to take the metro quite a ways in the opposite direction in order to see Parc Olympique. This location has a few “famous” landmarks including the Botanical Gardens, the Biodome, etc. After exiting the metro, I was a bit confused since it basically dumped us in a completely deserted chamber. A few other people got off the metro as well and so I simply decided to follow them. It was quite bizarre. We were walking through this area that had nothing but old run down looking concrete in all directions. We finally reached a door and then began a trek outside, still encapsulated more or less with concrete all around us. At times, it looked like we were walking through a service area, or perhaps a backstage sort of area where you’d usually see roadies loading and unloading gear…except there was no one in sight. I had serious doubts if we were walking in the right direction.
 |
| Parc Olympique (notice the cable car ride) |
Getting to the gardens was just as weird. There were a few concrete barriers setup that I had to walk through. Again, it looked like an area where only people with a “pass” would be allowed. There was even a guard sitting in a little booth. He looked at me as I passed by but didn’t ask any questions nor did he attempt to stop me. I could only guess that I was headed in the right direction.
 |
| ...Part of the Japanese Pavillion at the Botanical Gardens |
Walking around the grounds was nice but nothing was really growing yet since it was still rather cold outside. There were also patches of snow still on the ground, the last remnants of a fairly harsh winter. I was particularly fascinated by the Japanese garden/pavilion area and ended up taking quite a few pictures there.
I stayed perhaps a little over a half hour and then made my way back down the long bizarre concrete path to the metro station. At this point, I was getting pretty exhausted again from all of the walking. I boarded the metro and rode it back to the usual Berri-UQAM station. I exited the metro, flashed my metro pass through the turnstyle, and to my complete amazement…I was standing in front of a small Dunkin Donuts shop. Um..where did this come from?! Now, a bit of history here… I’ve had this thing for Dunkin Donuts for quite some time and since there are none in Minnesota, it’s sort of become a bit blown out of proportion. Still, last time I was in Montreal, I specifically searched for a DD and there were none. On top of that, I’d been in this metro station countless times on this trip and had never seen it. It was like it had materialized out of nowhere! I was completely dumbfounded! Unfortunately, I wasn’t even the least bit hungry.
I went back to my hotel and simply veg’d for awhile. It wasn’t long before the clock was approaching 2pm and so I ventured out once again, this time for the Marillion “day session”. This was the first time that Marillion decided to do some sort of free day session consisting of things like Q&A with the band, “swap the band”, etc. It sounded interesting enough and so I couldn’t resist.
I was really quite impressed with how many people showed up. In my rough estimate, I’d have to say that 50% of the “normal” audience was there. The day session was really quite extraordinary and gave me a glimpse of the band in a way that I had not seen before. There were also a few contests held for some of the banner artwork that displayed in the theater and the winners were allowed to come on stage, briefly meet the band, and then have their pictures taken with the band with the audience cheering behind them. Unfortunately, there were a bunch of guys, presumably from France, holding up a “The Web France” banner (“The Web” is an old Marillion song that became the name of the various Marillion fan clubs around the world) that pretty much blocked out everyone behind them from the shots, of which I was one of them.
There were also two people whose birthdays happened to be on that very day and so the band invited them to come up and get their pictures taken as well. Pretty cool stuff!
The real “coolness”, though, was the “swap the band” session. I believe this contest was held online earlier in the year, where Marillion fans were invited to send in some sort of demo of them posing as any one of the band members of Marillion by playing/singing any song they wish. The winners were then invited to the convention and asked to perform their chosen song live on stage! I mean, how incredibly cool is that? There was a young guy who played guitar on the song “Kayleigh” while, bizarrely enough, a young girl named Kayleigh sang it. Later on, yet another girl named Kayleigh sang the track “Afraid of Sunlight”. She was incredibly in to it and clearly really loving the audience’s reaction, so much so that she got a bit American Idol on us.
One of the best parts was listening to the various band members trying to read the handwritten names of people on index cards. Pete, the bassist, tried to read one extremely French name: “Um…it’s..um…Serge somebody…?” He couldn’t help but laugh at himself. “I’m sorry…um…Serge…wherever you are!”
During the Q&A portion, someone had asked the question, “Why Montreal?” H handled this question. “I’m assuming you’re meaning why have the North American convention here versus the USA…” He went on to explain how Montreal has always had a special vibe for the band which he’s stated before. He also added, though, how the US has made it both time consuming and expensive when trying to get a visa, and how it’s hard to justify. He ended by saying, “So, for the Americans in the audience…you may want to tell your elected officials to lighten up the restrictions since it’s turning many people away from touring there.” It was slightly harsh but, alas, very true. I’ve seen firsthand how the number of non-US resident tours has gone done greatly since 2001 and it’s been quite unfortunate.
The good news, though, was that H added that a US tour was indeed already in the works for the next album and, in his words, “…would be happening within the next 14 months.” So, all you US Marillion fans out there, start preparing now since this could be your last chance!
 |
| Marillion during the 'Swap the Band' session |
Here are the songs that were played during the “swap the band” portion:
Kayleigh (sung by Kayleigh #1)
The Party
Cover My Eyes
Afraid of Sunlight (sung by Kayleigh #2)
After the session was over, on the way out of the venue, I passed a guy in the street who was gently singing “Afraid of Sunlight” to himself with a rather thick French accent. It both warmed my heart and made me slightly giggle at the same time. Music really does bring people together.
I trekked back again to the hotel. I flipped on the TV, hoping to find something to watch for a little while. The best I could find was “Jaws” in French. I don’t know but something was just lost in the translation, I think.
I started preparing mentally for dinner, meaning where I was going to eat, etc. After a bit of thinking, I decided upon Aux Vivres (http://www.auxvivres.com/en/home/), a seemingly well known place billed as the “original” vegan restaurant of Montreal which, of course, was quite a ways from my hotel. Walking a ton more was the last thing I wanted to do but there really wasn’t much of an alternative. And so, I set off again to the metro station.
After a short ride, I exited the metro and started my walk through a nice hip looking neighborhood in search of the restaurant. I barely got a few blocks into it and it started to lightly rain. By the time I reached the café, it was just starting to rain pretty hard, enough to soak my hat very thoroughly.
Inside, Aux Vivres was pretty close to fully packed. I couldn’t believe how busy the restaurant was. The place was clearly popular! I looked over the menu and while it wasn’t exactly a glamorous selection of food, it was definitely a large one with tons of variety. There were tons of sandwich-like options to choose from and it made it a bit difficult to actually come to a decision.
The food was excellent! I ended up having a Mekong sandwich on chapatti that was simply a burst of flavor to my taste buds. I also had a Bombay Banana smoothie and some sort of soup that I can’t remember. Overall, it was absolutely the best food I had eaten in Montreal. It was obvious why the place was so packed. I was also extremely impressed by the wide variety of people who were eating there. Usually, you think of vegans as a particular type of hipster but there were entire families with little kids, older adults, etc., all seemingly enjoying the food.
Upon paying my bill, I had a hard time getting out the door since the place was even more crowded now than previously with many people waiting for a table. I made my way out the door and back in to the rain which had now thankfully lightened up. Upon walking back to the metro station, I debated…do I really dare? I thought about it and then figured what the heck.
I started making my way out to a small dessert café called, ironically, Calories, which I had visited on my previous trip. Calories is way on the other end of town, again, kind of back by where I had breakfast. The worst thing about this café is that you do have to walk outside a bit to get there and it’s kind of a drag in the rain.
I can’t say for sure but it looked like the café had changed owners. None of the cheesecake selections really appealed to me but, well, I was there and figured I needed to get something. I settled upon a slice of the turtle cheesecake and a coffee. Thankfully, the coffee was much lighter than what I had at the beginning of the day at Burgers and Benedicts. The cheesecake, though, was of the soft kind, almost with a texture not unlike firm whipped cream, and all I could really taste was a ton of sugar and no real actual flavor. Needless to say, it wasn’t my favorite. I prefer traditional plain hard cheesecake which they seem to advertise in their picture and yet haven’t had either time I’ve been there. I think next time I think I’ll try elsewhere and hopefully closer!
I once again returned to my hotel completely and totally exhausted. I got back a bit later than was I expecting and it left me only one hour until the evening’s performance. I couldn’t help but wonder how I would ever make it through. The previous night had so much energy that I didn’t think I could ever get to that point again!
3rd Show
Well, it became a non-issue of sorts. It was during this third and last performance that my luck finally completely ran out. It ended up being a pretty lame evening for me, much, much worse than the first show, and pretty much the entire show was ruined by audience members around me. The idiot quotient in the venue seemed to be at an all time high that evening.
I’m sure Marillion themselves were fantastic as always, of course, but I wouldn’t know since no matter who I stood near, they apparently seemed more in to holding a loud conversation rather than watching or listening to the band. It was quite maddening. I moved multiple times throughout the audience but there wasn’t much room to be had so I ended up drifting back and forth between four different spots. Three were filled with constant talkers and laughers; one had a guy I dubbed as Sasquatch, someone so tall that I couldn’t see a blasted thing around his head and hair. Worse yet, there was a younger kid with an upright brimmed baseball hat right behind him who was also fairly tall and insisted on waving his head from side to side so that his head acted like a pendulum to the bigger/hairier Sasquatch, completely blocking my few every few seconds, first left, then right, and so on. Some show!
Something very unfortunate happened pretty early on in the show. During the “Mad” portion of “Goodbye to All That”, H was holding a small crystal ball in his hands on stage. He suddenly decided to chuck it into the audience, which immediately seemed like a big mistake in my eyes, and of course the audience members started hitting it around as if it was a beachball. Well, I’m sure you can imagine what happened next. Now, mind you, this was a small mirrorball, probably with a hollow or styrofoam center so that it was fairly light, but it still had the mirrors on the outside so at least the outer core was fairly solid and potentially sharp. I kept my eye on the thing, fearing an accident was about to happen and I can sometimes be a magnet for such a thing. Sure enough, someone punched the tiny mirrorball way up into the air and it fell and hit some poor unsuspecting guy on the other side of the venue a couple feet in front of me. It hit him with a terrible smack on the side of the head and he bent over, in obvious pain, holding his right ear for a very long time. People started asking him if he was okay and he simply kept holding his ear. I couldn’t hear him but I think he asked the guy next to him if there was any blood, which there didn’t appear to be. I think, with the way the ball hit him, that it might have either affected his hearing for awhile or perhaps it could have fractured the cartilage in his ear. I’m not sure but I felt very sorry for the guy who didn’t even see the thing coming at him. It was a really poor choice of H to toss the ball into the audience. Hopefully, lesson learned.
Marillion played again for about 3 hours. They played a great set too, filled with some songs that I had always wanted to hear live. It was too bad that the sound of talking overpowered the songs. Ugh.
The theme of the evening was “the Glo must Go On”. This ended up meaning that we were all handed Glo Sticks on our way in, and the idea was that the audience was to vote between two different songs for which they preferred to hear. The band would then take a quick count of people holding up sticks and then play the appropriate song. It was quite a cool idea. Eventually, when the band posed a really hard choice between two songs that everyone wanted to hear, a chant began of “Both! Both! Both!!!” The whole place more or less rang out in protest, wanting to hear both tracks. In the end, they caved in on at least one of them.
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| Yet another cool photo of Marillion hard at work... |
Also, before “Easter”, H told the story of how they first played the song as a band. H had apparently just joined the band and had the main body of the song more or less already written out. He had pointed out how the middle of the track needed something in it and thought Steve Rothery could maybe play something during that part. Supposedly, the very first time they ran through the track as a band, Rothery played the solo that was eventually recorded almost verbatim. In the words of H with the usual English accent, “…so yeah, Rothery literally blew it out of his ass…” Rothery’s eyes widened as he glanced over at H, clearly mouthing a “What?!!” and smiling just the same.
Here’s the set list to the best of my memory. I’m sure there are errors here, considering the circumstances, so, as usual, don’t take it verbatim:
Goodbye to All That
Hard as Love (more or less the Less is More version)
Afraid of Sunlight
One Fine Day
Beyond You
Go!
Brave
Estonia
Between You and Me
Ocean Cloud
Happiness is the Road
Neverland
The Great Escape
Easter
This Strange Engine
The band actually closed with “Easter” and I thought they were most certainly done for the night. Everyone was heading out of the theater when they decided to come back and start into “This Strange Engine”. I decided to simply stand way in the back by the soundboard and listen/watch uninterrupted. It was lame being that far back but it had been even more lame being up close. Sigh.
With that, I returned to my hotel room and did my best not to brood about it too much. You win some, you lose some, and this was clearly a loss.
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