Life gets weirder every day/ London part two
England part two/
Where was I? Oh that's right, pretty girls and a bar in a place I've never been. Seems to be a reoccurring theme on here eh?
Next morning. Show day. We pile into two taxis and start heading to Trafalgar Square for soundcheck. So, a little back story, I actually didn't care at all that we were going to London for the first time, I had no real desire to see the city or even country for that matter. I'm not sure why still, but I just wasn't that stoked on going.
On that cab ride, maybe twenty minutes total, I got it. Totally got it. This city that I essentially knew nothing about was absolutely captivating me from the back of a taxi. An extremely modern city dwelling in ancient buildings and structures. In those twenty minutes I fell in love.
After soundcheck we are backstage and it has come to my attention that this festival is sponsored by a beer company, and all the big blue barrels scattered around backstage were not garbage cans, oh no these were barrels filled with ice and beer for the performers. I forgot to add that it was unusually warm in London for this trip, averaging 30 degrees Celsius...
We spend the majority of the day backstage, we played two sets (no idea why) and then we were off to play an acoustic set for the Canadian embassy, allegedly one of the official's daughter was a big fan. So I stand sidestage watching our guitar players and singer play the top 40 bubblegum pop music we were known for. Acoustically. I scan the room and determine out of maybe 50 people, about 2-3 are under the age of 45. We had a saying back then that summed this moment up perfectly; "life gets weirder every day."
Back to the hotel we go to get cleaned up, for we have an official after party to get to. And by after party I mean a gigantic mansion hundreds of years old and no free bar. Sweet party.
We settle in and begin our usual liquor fueled ascension to either the life of the party or "those weird guys."
Now, earlier in the day I had met a girl backstage, a witty brunette actually from Canada who was there with her boyfriend, also a performer at the festival. We flirt and chat blah blah etc etc, then I invite her to said after party. She declined, saying her boyfriend and her were staying in. No problem.
Back to the party: I was slowly distancing myself from "the weird guys" to talk to two very attractive girls standing by the bar that had been giving me the googly eyes for a while. I'm sure Pat was again making devious plans to inflict pain on another unsuspecting Londoner, so you can understand why I'd prefer a drunken conversation with the fairer sex.
Ten minutes into a very in depth conversation with the two smokeshows about which side of the street is safer to drive on, I see my backstage brunette stroll on into the party. I'm not one for homewrecking, so I'm definitely not gonna pursue her, I mean I have two English beauties buying me drinks so what would you do?
Well, it turns out the brunette had a different plan. She finds me, commandeers the conversation about something Canadian (obviously the chicks have no idea what she's talking about) and essentially stares down the two English girls until they get awkward and leave. Next thing I remember I'm in a private bathroom making out with the boyfriended brunette. So far I love London.
This feverish international makeout hits that oh so pivotal moment where it progresses from an upstairs party to a downstairs party, and my possible overnight girlfriend starts having second thoughts. Understandable. I mean I can't imagine the story she sold her poor unsuspecting boyfriend explaining how he should stay home, yet she should go to the after party. So the romance launch code has been cancelled and now we are having small talk chit chat in a bathroom post smooch city. We go through the hilariously awkward moment of saying we'll call each other when back in the mother land...
At this point I have no idea where any of my friends were, and I was closing in on hitting an 8 out of 10 on the drunk scale. I walk to what I think is either a front door, back door, or some kind of exit. I wasn't in the mood to scale any large hedges or tall areas of foliage, so my emotion when I opened a door and saw a busy street was nothing short of elated.
Now, I use a certain word a lot, maybe too much and most definitely too nonchalantly.
This word is: "serendipitous." I was going to include the definition but who cares, I know you know what it means.
I see the two pretty British girls I was talking to earlier, now standing on the street waiting for a cab. As I've eluded to before, fate is a strange animal. We chat. The desired destination is where one girl wants to: "keep drinking cuz tomorrow's my day off woooo!" and the other wants to: "get something to eat because oh my GOD I don't want to be hungover!"
I slowly and articulately say the words "well I have both at my hotel..."
I find myself once again, sitting in between two girls in some mode of transportation. The déjà vu is strong with this one. We arrive at my hotel and I present a fistful of cash to the driver, unable to discern what bills mean what and he gives back what I can only hope was correct change.
Onward we charge into the elevator and up to my room. The mini bar has been replenished by the amazing hotel staff surprisingly. I act as cool and big time as I possibly could when I delivered this line as the girls were pouring over the room service menus: "order whatever you want, ITS ON ME..." These chicks actually went bananas and called in a ridiculous order for food and we dive into the mini bar as if it was a race to empty the entire thing. You can imagine my (again) sense of déjà vu when the girls of course bring up the possibility of a threesome. In less than 48 hours I've had two threesome offers. I must be doing something right, OR, no girl wants to actually be left alone with me, who knows...
Well, things progress and are moving along quite smoothly. I've had maybe a handful of surreal moments in my life where I actually felt somewhat out of body and was able to recognize and appreciate the magnitude of my current situation. I had one of those moments where in the midst of a half naked makeout session with two girls in a foreign country that my little band brought me to, I somehow became aware of the glaring city lights outside my window. This moment may have only been a split second freeze frame but I'll never forget all of these things occurring to me all at once.
In the wake of this reverie staring out the window like an idiot I am jarred back to reality with a deliberate knocking on the door. The girls jump up off the bed and transform right before my eyes from sexy foreign chicks that wanted a night of no strings attached naked fun, to crazy eyed vicious wild animals that haven't eaten in weeks. By the time I sign for the food and and drinks and close the door, these girls had already set up a smorgasbord on the bed and are hunched over cross legged devouring their prey. Nothing kills my libido more than drunk girls eating and talking about nonsense with food falling out of their mouths.
I crawl into a sliver of the bed that was uninhabited by room service trays and attempt to keep a conversation going, hoping that we'll resume our positions and states of undress post meal. I am sadly mistaken when the light gets turned out and the girls crawl into bed, complete with just pushing trays and plates and food off the bed onto the floor. Next I am accompanied by the symphony of two drunk and well fed girls snoring in my bed.
Life just gets weirder every day.
The next day we have completely to ourselves, and are flying home the following morning. We explore London for easily 8 hours, and somewhere during that day we get a call (we had an international "band phone") from the festival production runner guy. It seems he had left on vacation right after the festival the day before and was calling us from Costa Rica. Through his frantic high pitched screaming we were able to decipher this: "STOP CHARGING ROOM SERVICE TO MY CARD!!! ITS MAXED OUT AND IM STRANDED IN COSTA RICA!!!"