Concert Day: United Palace Theatre, New‐York City, NY (May 6, 2010)

New‐York, New‐York. What a city. I guess you can never get bored in here.

Woke up at around 8:30am, really happy that I don’t have to do any driving today. The plan was to take the train from Newark airport to Penn Station and back at night. From the hotel, we took a shuttle to the airport, and there waited for about 45 minutes for a late train to take us to Penn Station.

Once in Penn Station, I sort‐of got the feeling that I am at the center of the world. The amount of traffic going through that station is just unbelievable.

We were starving. Once in Penn Station, I located an Auntie Anne’s stand selling those pretzels I like so much (Miriam… I can explain… it’s not what it looks like). Our plan was to go for lunch immediately, however our destination was a bit far and we were really, really hungry.

My buddy Jonathan, whose father spent a good chunk of his life in Argentina (which explains his demanding taste), has commanded me, before the trip, to pay a visit to an Argentinean restaurant called Buenos Aires. Located in downtown, on 1st Avenue & East 6th Street, it was too far to walk so we took a couple of subway rides to get there.

Coming out of the “L” subway line at 14th (?) and 1st Avenue, we had about 10 minutes walk ahead of us. Not the fanciest location in Manhattan, but still, so many businesses and restaurants, mostly displeasing to the eye.

Then we arrived at Buenos Aires Restaurant. Not a very big restaurant, however right as we stepped in, I got the feeling that this is going to be a good meal.

One of the most obvious differences in the restaurant experience between North America and, say, Europe, has to do with the staff. The waiting staff in most non‐American restaurants I’ve been to are well‐trained, not only with the menu but also with the ability to give you, the paying customer, the feeling that you’re welcome. Being a waiter there is not a low‐paying, low‐class “job” that one takes just because no other alternatives were available (this is the general case; I’m not saying it applies everywhere in North America).

Following Jonathan’s command, we ordered a couple of empanadas and a one pound (!) skirt steak (called Entraña in Argentina).

The tasteful, delicious empanadas were only a sign to what was to come next. They actually had to fold the long skirt steak so it fits in the plate.

As Jonathan repeatedly says, good food is first and foremost about the ingredients. The steak we so happily consumed today didn’t look anything special. No spices; definitely no sauce. Just plain, high‐quality meat — that’s all you really need. And man was it good. Cuts easy, chewed easy, and tastes wonderfully — very easy to consume one pound of beef when it tastes like that.

Happy with the meal, we continued our journey. We stopped by the Apple Store on 14th street, as Jeroen was commissioned to buy an iPad for a friend of his in The Netherlands. Now this is something I can’t really relate to: there appears to be quite the hype surrounding Apple’s products. That’s a well known fact, but I never actually saw it happening until today. People flock those stores just to see what the cool technology is all about. It’s considered cool to carry Apple’s products. How Steve Jobs managed to get Apple to a position where so many people eagerly awaits and accepts anything the company feeds them — that I don’t know, but I have to say the guy’s a genius for doing that.

I should also note that the iPad appears to be quite the toy. Nice to have for those evenings you wanna surf the net while laying on a hammock.

I don’t have that much free time.

Next, we proceeded to B&H Photo Video. Now that’s a story worth telling. I am no photography buff however still I heard so many things about that store that, now that the time came to buy a camera, I had to check it out. One of my friends, a photography buff, once said that whoever hasn’t been to B&H Photo Video before, has never really been to a photography store before.

That place sells anything that comes between a person’s eye and the object being looked at: still cameras, video cameras, telescopes… if your eyes want to look at something, then those guys from B&H Photo Video want to sell you something to come between you and the object you behold.

And they have everything; and when I say everything, I mean everything. The store occupies two levels and an entire block; would be really easy to get lost there if it wasn’t for the signs. It is owned by a family of orthodox Jewish people; almost all of the employees there are Jewish, and almost all of those are orthodox — for a minute, I thought I’m in downtown Bney‐Brak in Israel.

What’s interesting about that place is how you actually go about buying something. Here is the process I went through to buy a camera:

1. Consulted a camera specialist. There are many of those in the store, and they know everything. That’s what they’re trained to do, and apparently they’re trained very well. No question unanswered; no “I don’t know”; no “I guess”.
2. Once you decide which camera you want, the “consultant” gives you a piece of paper and sends you to another line, there you meet with a person who fulfils your order, offers accessories and gives advice — you may call it a sales tactics to try to make you buy more things, and it may be true but it certainly saved me (the guy there was knowledgeable enough to tell me which type of memory card I shouldn’t buy as it limits the camera’s functionality, etc). After talking to him, you basically have the order ready; he gives you a different piece of paper (and takes the old one away), sending you to a different line.
3. That is the payment line. About 10 cashiers, all they do is just get the payment from you, in any shape or form. You pay, and are given a receipt — and sent to another line.
4. Your order is already there, packaged and ready to go.

Sounds complex? it isn’t, and the shocking thing here is that it goes so fast that before you know what hits you you’re already outside of the store with a bag in your hand.

Genius. Efficient. I like this kind of things.

We then walked towards Times Square, circumnavigating through millions of people.

My friend Ehud, whom I met in Menlo Park, CA just a few weeks ago, said this about NYC — and I think it pretty much sums up why this place is so great; he said — whatever humanity has produced and thought you should have access to — is there for you within short distance. Very true. NYC, and specifically Manhattan, has everything. I would probably never live there (I prefer smaller, quieter places), but I have to admit that if the modern world has a centre, then NYC must be it.

One thing I don’t understand is why would any Manhattan resident ever want to own a car. Forget the fact that you can get almost everywhere with public transit (and walk to the places public transit doesn’t get to); DRIVING IN MANHATTAN IS AN INSANE EXERCISE IN A WASTE OF TIME. There’s way too many cars there. Look how they’re parked.

Anyway, our next goal was to wrap our teeth over a good New‐York cheese‐cake. Readers of this blog have raved about Junior’s; turns out they have a store in Times Square. We went. We ordered. We demolished it. It was very good. Here’s what they have to offer:

Nancy and her friend Ellyn came to NYC to see the concert, so we met near their hotel on 57th & 7th and went for dinner in some sushi place — of course, I didn’t eat anything (no room left). Then the time came to take the transit north to 175th street, where the United Palace Theatre is located, so we went to the Columbus Circle station and went on subway line “A” all the way north. That’s about 120 blocks in 20 minutes.

Got our tickets — front row, dead centre again. I then noticed Rudy Pensa, the guitar luthier who made more than a few guitars for Mark over the years. He was standing there chatting with a few friends; I went ahead and introduced myself, telling him that I admire his work. I really do love the sound of those Pensa’s.

An anecdote from the last tour is that I was actually well & ready to purchase a Pensa guitar while I was in New‐York: at the day of the concert (in Central Park), I met Rudy at the Meet & Greet, introduced myself, we had a little chat and he asked me to meet him at his store the next morning; he never showed up, and so he’s now approximately $7,500 less rich than he could have been.

I had to do some travel research for tomorrow as there’s a few exciting things happening then, so I split from the gang and went to a nearby Starbucks for some Internet access, passing through some suspicious‐looking dudes. Unpleasant at best but what can you do. This is NYC: and there’s place here for everybody.

Went back to the venue 20 minutes before the show. Upon entering, there was Rudy again talking to one Mr. Paul Crockford. They didn’t really seem to put too much effort into hiding the contents of their discussion (they were almost yelling; but then again, who wouldn’t; it was very crowded), but that’s OK, I won’t tell anyone. Frankly I wasn’t much interested in their discussion as I had other burning things on my mind, however once I heard the name “John Monteleone” I just had to turn around, then I noticed Rudy introducing Mr. Monteleone to Paul.

Huh. Interesting. Jeroen claimed vigorously that the song Monteleone will be played tonight; I didn’t buy it.

The night before, on our way to Newark, we listened to Pieta Brown’s album in the car. It’s a great album, I suggest you get your hands on one of those. Anyway, I got her album today, we had a little chat. Was nice.

Entered the concert hall and the show started within minutes.

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I have nothing much to tell about the venue that isn’t going to be written by Richard and Guy anyway, so I’ll keep it short — the sound is great, it’s nice looking but way too much decorative details.

Audience is generally noisier and less polite at the east coast than in the west coast, that’s for sure. Jeroen told me some more horror stories about the audience’s behaviour during Pieta Brown’s show; and during the first 10 minutes or so of Mark’s concert, people were still walking around, finding their seats, arguing with other people who may have taken their seats, obstructing the view and whatnot.

A tall, big guy working for the theatre has been commissioned to watch for the stage; for whatever reason, the venue’s management has decided to have him sit by the stage exactly at the middle, which made his head obstruct quite a bit of the stage’s view for the first few rows. A few songs into the show, an MK crew member came up to him, they had a few words and I never saw that staff worker again.

The show went smooth, with Mark playing as if he never pinched any nerve. Good stuff, great performance of Sailing to Philadelphia with a melting outro solo played with much taste over the high frets — fantastic.

Everything went normal until it was time for the band to play Get Lucky, as they have been doing during most shows so far. I noticed Mark being handed the acoustic guitar, but I guess I should have paid closer attention, because then I would notice that the capo was at the 2nd fret rather than on the 4th.

Mark then started a 3–4 minutes speech about an interesting New‐York story, basically giving the background to John Monteleone’s work. Turned out that the band was saving Monteleone for this particular show, which — completely not coincidentally, I’m sure — seemed to be fitting as John Monteleone himself was sitting at the audience.

What can I tell you, folks… I was ecstatic, and didn’t really do much to hide it. I really like that song, and heard it played live only once before — during the Hurlingham Club gig last September. Tonight’s performance of this song, though, was a completely different story: it was well‐done, perfect all the way to the last note. Amazing, I have no other words to describe it.

A setlist change, at last!

Come on, lets bring some sailors for the next concert and have a go at So Far from the Clyde.

I recall clapping rather violently after that song was played; I absolutely loved it.

Telegraph Road sent the audience (with me in it) to the sky with a mind‐blowing solo that sort‐of made me not want to play guitar ever again, because, really, what’s the point. Considerably violet riffs, that outro solo was a perfect fit for a wild dance party.

Great concert, great experience. What a way to end the day.

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After the concert, it was quite a long subway ride down to Penn Station as the subway stopped in each and every stop. Another half an hour in Penn Station for the NJ Transit train to Newark airport, and then another 45 minutes wasted waiting for the hotel’s shuttle to pick us up. Utter failure by the hotel’s staff, but then again, what can you do.

It’s a part of the experience, I guess.

Tomorrow’s going to be an exciting day, meeting a cousin I never met before (and never thought I ever would) plus a visit to the hospice where Nancy is volunteering. And of course, a concert in Upper Darby at the evening.

Later,
Isaac

Concert Day: Count Basie Theatre, Red Bank, NJ (May 5, 2010)

Woke up this morning in Somerville, MA to a bright sunny day, toward which I was completely oblivious for the first couple of hours because I was exhausted due to lack of sleep the night before. The only thing I can remember about today’s first couple of hours was (you guessed it) breakfast.

Already have mastered the art of packing quickly, we left the hotel as soon as humanly possible (that rude front‐desk girl was there. I wanted to see whether her rude attitude was anecdotal or systematic; I checked; it’s systematic). As I was only 10% awake, Jeroen did the driving to a breakfast place he had read reviews about — Ball Square Cafe in downtown Somerville.

Oh, finally, having great breakfast. After some colossal culinary failures, we finally landed on a good place. Drinks are free (except for espresso‐based products), and their menu wasn’t limited to the standard American breakfast menu. Great service, and I had a delicious smoked salmon omelette, baked potato… just enough to start the day.

(Or, as it turned out quite shortly after, fall asleep again in the car)

I don’t really know what happened during the next hour or two as Jeroen was driving us away from Massachusetts; I was half asleep, in need of caffeine (that good breakfast place boasted some terrible cappuccino that I couldn’t drink. You want to heat the milk, not cook it. Someone please write that sentence on a huge placard and hang it just above their espresso machine); I do remember though that at some point we switched, and I found myself in the driver’s seat.

The ride from Massachusetts towards Connecticut is very pleasant (we’ve been here before… just a couple of days ago), with scenery getting quite impressive once you hit Connecticut. Such a beautiful state, I fail to understand how during my 8 years in North America I never got around to tour around.

Zero traffic jams, as we chose a slightly longer ride — rather than taking the straight way down to New‐Jersey, we took the I‐84, I‐287 towards Morristown — bypassing NYC and neighbouring traffic altogether. Brilliant weather, can’t think of better weather for a convertible ride.

As we were just about to leave Connecticut, I decided to have some coffee in that beautiful state before I kiss it goodbye. A search for cafe’s on our route showed just under five billion Starbucks stores, but I did find one entry there for a local cafe.

Mocha Coffee House (Google Maps & reviews, website), located at Sandy Hook, CT, is a superb coffee house offering interesting drinks, comfortable indoor seating and a gorgeous patio overlooking a peaceful river running next to impressive greenery. Taking a look at the view, I really didn’t want to go anywhere else. I was more than willing to park my ass on one of those tall metal seats in the patio, shift to relaxation mode and the hell with everything else.

Being there made me feel bad about the proliferation of chain cafe’s and restaurants, on the expense of locally‐owned, authentic establishments. Granted, buying coffee at Starbucks may save you a few pennies on your coffee; so the coffee costs you less, but over time, you lose something else which you cannot possibly buy back with the money you saved: you lose sight of the small details, of the small establishments, of variety. Now how ironic is that… the so‐called “free market” eventually leads to the lack of freedom in choosing where to dine, because people apply market rules on their dining choices (why eat in a slightly more expensive local establishment, if I can eat at some lousy chain for less money and I know what I’m getting).

Sad thoughts.

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After a total of about 5–6 hours of driving through green landscapes, lakes, rivers and hills, we finally arrived at Red Bank, NJ — not before we experienced some slow traffic but nothing too harsh.

Red Bank, NJ (Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Red_Bank,_New_Jersey) is a tiny town off the southern bank of the Navesink River. It used to be a major economic center until the 1987 recession which lead to a significant decline in the town’s economy.

As we were going to spend the night at a hotel near Newark airport, we drove directly to Red Bank with all of our belongings; that required us to change in the car, once we parked. At least I didn’t feel like going to a Mark Knopfler concert wearing shorts, a T‐shirt and sandals.

The Count Basie Theatre (Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Count_Basie_Theatre) is located right at the intersection of Monmouth Street & Maple Avenue, which is the west part of Red Bank’s downtown area. At first glance at the exterior revealed nothing to be too excited about:

Had some time to kill so we were looking for a place to sit down and have a normal dinner once and for all. Just across the street, we found a place called “Eurasian Eatery”.

Fabulous dinner. If ever in the area, go there. They have dumplings worth dying for. Great meal kept me full till about 10 minutes ago (the time now is 3:49am).

Picked up the tickets from the box office — best seats in the house, front row seats 107 & 108. I had to work on a few things so I split to a nearby Starbucks (the only other cafe within walking distance, which wasn’t a Starbucks, was closed. “No Joe’s Cafe”. I liked the name) and hammered on my Netbook doing some… well… never mind.

Went back to the venue 20 minutes before the concert started. Was good to see Nancy again — she brought her son with her this time. I encourage that: bring your children to Knopfler’s shows, maybe that will make them stop listening to trash.

The theatre itself is much more impressive than last night’s venue (Boston’s Orpheum Theatre), yet not as impressive as, say, Hollywood’s Pantages. Still a good balance I think. Decent venue.

At 8:50pm, the show started.

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Over the last week or so, since Mark pinched that nerve in his back, I have been receiving all sorts of emails expressing concern over Mark’s condition. Well, while he still requires some assistance walking to his chair, allow me to assure you that you should not have any concern about his performance. True, that pinched nerve did affect a few performances, but the Boston concert was a great improvement and today’s show in Red Bank was so good that you can hardly tell that Mark is under a lot of pain anymore.

Same setlist as the night before, no surprises there — although the Pensa did make it again to be played during Prairie Wedding. I mentioned yesterday that I liked that switch (according to Richard Bennett’s diary, the guitar switch was done in order to cope with the poor wiring at the Orpheum Theatre which caused some electrical buzz), sounded great today as well.

The band seemed to be in a good mood, playing very well. A very entertaining moment was during Donegan’s Gone, when the Mark & Tim “guitar talk” was suddenly stopped — along with all other instruments — giving Glenn Worf a few seconds of definite solo performance on the upright bass. Not sure if Glenn really anticipated it, he looked a bit surprised, much to the other band‐members’ pleasure (and the audience’s).

Another great story with this performance was the crowd. Cheery, dynamic crowd. Lots of people were dancing during certain songs, moving various body parts not necessarily in tempo with the music — yielding quite the entertaining sight.

Next to me, there was seated a couple, probably older than my parents (say around 60 years old), who didn’t stop moving with the music for even one second. They were totally into it, ecstatic with every minute of the show. The woman was actually so into it that her legs were actually moving in random directions, in the air, as if she’s on a pendulum. It was endearing to see such a sight. I like it when people are completely into the music.

Show ended with the usual encore and a very happy crowd.

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After the show, 68℉ outside and a pleasant convertible ride to Country Inn & Suites at Newark airport, where we will base for the next four nights. We’ll do short day‐trips to NYC, Philadelphia, and Atlantic City.

Very excited about tomorrow. For once, this will be the first day during the tour which will include no driving at all — we’ll take the train from the airport directly to Penn Station. Looking forward for a day of fun in Manhattan. Already have a restaurant I need to check out, plus I’ll pay a visit to B&H to buy a camera.

Stay tuned for updates. Good night from Newark!

Isaac

Concert Day: Orpheum Theatre, Boston, MA (May 4, 2010)

Knowing I only have one hour to drive today, I took the morning easily. Quite nice, waking up in a small town such as Sturbridge, MA; thought I’ll have a quick breakfast, good cappuccino, and then drive easily and pleasantly to Somerville, MA — just outside of Boston (hotel prices in Boston were just too much to handle. It did, however, seem a bit lucrative to stay at the Four Seasons hotel in Boston, for the unbeatable price of $3,700 a night).

Sturbridge, MA is a small town that prides itself with its history. We decided to pay a visit to a local cafe called “Sturbridge Coffee Roasters”. “Nice”, I thought to myself. “Have a breakfast, and then a locally‐roasted coffee”.

Entered the place. “Hello” to the hostess, and we sat down. Waiting for service.

After about 20 minutes of listening to the only poor lady who was working there, speaking to one of the clients, we figured that we should, maybe, let her know that we’re sort of hungry. We ended up going to the cashier and place the order there.

After what seemed to be f’n forever, our long‐awaited order arrived. We both ordered something (breakfast burrito?) that had ham, salsa, cheese and eggs in it; what we ended up getting is a dry tortilla filled with scrambled eggs covered with some ugly, sticky cheese (I suspect it was Cheez‐Wiz); neither ham nor salsa, which is sort‐of what I was waiting for for the last 45 minutes.

But you know what? I don’t think anything can surprise me anymore, when it comes to restaurant standards in USA and Canada; and before you call me a “patronizing jackass” —

(a) I know;

(b) I am not saying that all restaurants suck. I am talking about the average; and

(c) Go to any country in western Europe, eat in a few restaurants and see for yourself.

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Back in the car and off to Somerville we went. After a few detours caused by immensely confusing roads, we finally reached our destination — La Quinta Hotel Inn & Suites in Somerville, MA; not a walking distance from the venue (unless you’re a masochist), but close enough to public transport.

Entering the hotel, we were greeted by the nastiest hotel receptionist I ever came across. Her name was Liz and her attitude was so patronizing and disgusting that all that Jeroen and myself could do is look at each other with a huge “WTF” expression on our faces.

Packed a few things and left towards Sullivan Square, which is the nearest subway station. I decided to spend as little time in the hotel as possible, and instead pass the time in some quiet coffee place in downtown Boston. I’m too tired to walk around sight‐seeing; I should note though that it was a beautiful day. I was just too tired.

Out of the subway at the Downtown Crossing station, I went up the stairs towards Washington street and all I could see around was tall buildings, shady‐looking people and quite a bit of litter. Well, that’s normal I guess, I can’t recall exiting a subway station in a big city and seeing beauty all around. I just don’t understand why it is like this. If somebody can shed some light as to why public transportation stations are often so dirty and populated with suspicious people, please let me know.

The downtown area of Boston is decent — not too crowded (nowhere near as Chicago, for example), a bit dirty but altogether pleasant to walk around. As I was starving, I had a sandwich at Cosi (simply because it was the first place that I found, having decent food) and then proceeded to Boston Coffee Company where I spent the next few hours catching up with the world.

Half an hour before the opening act, we went to the Orpheum Theatre to collect the tickets — front row, absolute centre (this is starting to get annoying) — then split up as Jeroen went to see the opening act and I went away looking for a cafe to continue catching up with things.

Arrived at the venue about 10 minutes before the band took the stage. I was really interested to know what this concert would be like, in the light of the recent developments regarding Mark’s health condition.

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The Orpheum Theatre is an old (built in 1852. Yes, over 150 years ago. Wikipedia: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Orpheum_Theatre_%28Boston,_Massachusetts%29), beaten‐up, sort‐of dusty theatre. Not very impressive — not in the exterior, not in the interior; the sound, however, was decent. The reception area was quite crowded (I miss the spacious reception areas of some venues in the west coast… Eugene, Oregon being case in point) and stank from beer.

The front row seats were so close to the stage that it was very hard to avoid having my knees touching it. The band, however were about 3–4 metres away from the edge of the stage.

So what did we have there…

We had two individuals that decided to leave LP covers of Dire Straits albums (one left Dire Straits, the other left Making Movies) along with a marker, hoping for a signature (which never materialized). One of the LP’s spent the entire show on the stage (the guy just put it there at the beginning of the show). At some point I was considering taking the LP and signing it myself.

We had a surprisingly cheerful Mark. It appears as if his health condition is improving — still limping, but I have to say that he played much better today than, say, two days ago. Perhaps it’s the day off, perhaps it’s an improvement in his condition… whatever the reason is, Mark played as if he was in perfect health. The “sticky thing” discharged from his palms seemed to not matter at all this time.

We had a buzz that came from one of the amps — continuously, the entire show. The buzz’s volume increased and decreased in concert with Mark’s volume pedal’s state; the very same buzz you hear when connecting a single‐coil pickup guitar into an amp without using any sort of device to clean that buzz.

(Maybe Guy Fletcher will elaborate in his diary entry)

We had some daring, interesting solo’s during Sailing to Philadelphia and Coyote. When the time came to play Prairie Wedding, Mark was holding a Pensa guitar instead of the Telecaster he usually plays that song with; for a second I thought that there’s a setlist change, however it was Prairie Wedding again, played with a Pensa. Ha. Interesting. Sounds not bad at all.

(It’s not the same Pensa as the one used for Telegraph Road; it was this one:)

Good to have seen Mark cheerful again; clearly it affects the band as well, as they all played very well. No screw‐ups, everything going smooth… pleasant.

Hats off to the band for job well done.

The crowd was very cheery during the band’s performance; standing ovations were very frequent — sometimes even at the middle of a song. Before playing Donegan’s Gone, Mark mentioned the fact that that is the point in the show where “the bequests start arriving”; he does that in every show, and it indeed triggers further bequests by the crowd. However the difference this time was that the bequests just kept on coming. The crowd yelled different song names (of which some didn’t have anything to do with either Dire Straits or Mark Knopfler) for about a minute straight — I believe there was no song in the Dire Straits repertoire that wasn’t “bequested”.

Crowd was very happy to have the band over for a visit. That said, Jeroen informed me later that the crowd’s behaviour during Pieta Brown’s show was terribly disrespectful — “even worse than the Mashantucket experience” (quoting him). He mentioned that the crowd was so busy talking, that Jeroen could barely even understand what Pieta was singing, and at some point towards the end, Pieta turned to the crowd and asked them “come on, tell me, what is it that you all are talking about?” or something of the sort.

Show ended at 10:30pm or so; a refreshing smoothie from a nearby store, subway ride, cab ride and back to the hotel.

Tomorrow — driving to Newark, where we will base for the next 4 nights or so; then drive to Red Bank to the show.

Later,
Isaac

Driving to Boston, MA (May 3, 2010)

Quite a pleasant day today. Like every Monday so far, it has been a day off for the band; next concert is tomorrow (Tuesday) in Boston, so we had two full days to make it from Alexandria, VA to Boston, MA.

Started the day with a visit in downtown Washington DC. We recalled spotting a Potbelly’s Sandwiches store right next to the venue the previous night, and decided to have breakfast there. We arrived there about an hour before opening time so we used the time to stroll around and take pictures of famous locations.

Recalling the horrendous drive south the day before, we realized that driving north to Boston, taking the seemingly shortest route (that happens to be exactly the same route we took the day before, only to the other direction), will leave us in a mental state that requires hospitalization; so we decided to take things easy, and drive an alternate route. Instead of driving through the smog, we decided to drive north towards Lancaster, PA and basically arrive to Boston through the I‐84.

I would probably never desire to drive through Lancaster, if it wasn’t for a special occasion; without going too much into detail, I have some family there — an aunt and her two kids, whom I haven’t seen in 23 years and only recently re‐connected. As my cousins were away from home, I ended up meeting with my aunt. I felt a bit sorry for only giving a 3 hours notice for this visit — I visited her at work — but I couldn’t carry the thought of driving through Lancaster and not seeing someone I have long wished to see.

That meeting made me a happier man than I already was; a lengthier visit is in order, and will take place before long. Coffee break at Starbucks in a nearby plaza and we were on our way.

Lord, was that a wise decision to take this alternate route! Oh, what a pretty drive it is, through the country‐side of Pennsylvania, all the way up to the New‐York state‐line, then to Connecticut. High hills, trees everywhere; clear‐blue skies and perfect weather for a convertible ride. Smog no more; the scent of greenery, trees and lakes helped me regain some peace of mind after yesterday’s craziness.

What a beautiful ride.

Stopped at around 6:00pm in a tiny little town called Milford, in Pennsylvania. Nestled between green hills and perfect scenery, we ended up in a place called Milford Diner. Regrettably, it was the single most disgusting dinner I had since I left for the tour, and of the least enjoyable restaurant experiences ever.

Their menu resembled a book much better than a menu. About seven (!) pages written in small font, offering whatever type of food you can think of. A rule of thumb is that the bigger the selection in a menu — the lower quality food you end up getting. A restaurant cannot offer a huge selection and still offer good quality to all of its products. It just doesn’t work that way. Most of the food ends up in the fridge waiting to be used, sometimes for days, if not weeks (in the case of meats). Good restaurants have simple, short menus.

Garbage. I feel bad even writing about that meal.

Left Milford (to never return; at least not to eat) with a little bit of headache caused by the immense amount of fat in the sauce they dumped the chicken in (they claimed it was a Masala sauce. I know Masala sauce; that wasn’t it). Was my turn to drive, and man, did I enjoy that ride. It was around 7:00pm, when the sun just begins to set. Still very sunny, bit with an orange‐ish hue over clear blue skies. Perfect temperature; I wish for more drives like that.

Stopped for the night in Quality Inn in Sturbridge, MA, about 100km away from Boston. Third of the price of a Boston hotel, without really adding anything to the amount of driving we have to make. Very quiet environment in that tiny town; tomorrow, proceeding to Boston.

Isaac

Concert Day: Warner Theatre, Washington DC (May 2, 2010)

Woke up in Groton, CT early Sunday, certainly not looking forward for a tough driving day. Evidently this tour is not designed to be followed by car; had to drive all the way south to Washington DC, only to return up north two days later, and then south again. Phew.

But long driving days do not deter me anymore. After spending so much time behind the wheel, you get used to the fact that time, after all, really passes quickly.

(… That is, unless you’re passing through New York; we’ll get to that later)

Driving out of Connecticut, I came to realize once again what beautiful state it is. Life seem so peaceful here: beautiful surroundings, nice people, nature… I should come for a more in‐depth visit some day.

The pleasant Connecticut drive ended rather quickly; unfortunately, I have very little to say about the drive down towards Alexandria, VA where we spent the night (booking a reasonably‐priced hotel in downtown Washington DC turned out to be an exercise in wasting time. I guess hotels cost so much there because the area is frequented by diplomats and other sort of “important” people who don’t really pay for their accommodation anyway; that’s what taxpayers’ money is good for), except that it was very stressful.

We drove in six (!) states — Connecticut, New York, New Jersey, Delaware, Maryland and Virginia. It was a Sunday, and that fact may have been the one single fact that helped us maintain sanity. Even on a Sunday, the drive was horrendous. I had the “pleasure” to drive through a bit of the New York City metro area (passing through the Bronx on our way to New Jersey); as pleasant as being repeatedly kicked in the nuts.

The weather was somewhat suboptimal for a convertible ride, but we did it anyway as means of maintaining sanity. It was sunny all throughout, sometimes reaching 90℉ and more; we had our fair share of smog inhalation, and switched seats frequently.

It has been quite the stressful drive; undoubtedly, the toughest driving day so far in the tour.

The ride becomes less ugly and more green as you approach Baltimore. The “Balt‐Wash”, which is the parkway connecting Baltimore, MD with Washington DC, is a pretty drive. I remembered Maryland and Virginia being pretty (and hot, and humid) from my previous visit here during the Kill to Get Crimson tour. Back then, the concert took place in Vienna, VA (not too far from Washington DC), at the Wolf Trap Amphitheatre.

After about 9 hours on the road (including stops), tired, weary and sweaty, we arrived at the Holiday Inn hotel in Alexandria, VA — about 15km from the Warner Theatre in Washington DC, where the concert was to take place. Staying at the air‐conditioned room appeared very lucrative, however unfortunately we had zero time to waste as we had to grab dinner before the concert.

There are about one million highways crossing each other near Alexandria, VA — all of them under construction. Most of that construction is a part of the “Putting America to Work” initiative (“American Recovery & Reinvestment Act”), aimed at recovering the troubled USA economy while sentencing drivers to years in traffic. My thought was that if you were going to “put America to work”, you might have been better off thinking more than 10 years ahead and invest heavily in fast, efficient public transport such as high‐speed trains. Then again, that might just be me and my ever‐optimizing mind.

(No patronizing here; Canada isn’t any better when it comes to public transit)

Crossed the bridge into downtown Washington DC, passing through some famous monuments that I so far only saw in newspapers and movies.

Found the parking garage closest to the venue and went out to hunt for food.

Downtown Washington DC is quite boring on Sunday afternoons / evenings. Most businesses and restaurants were closed; we ended up in this place called Shelly’s Backroom, which is some sort of a saloon — people go there to smoke cigars in a dimly‐lit environment, and to unwind. We couldn’t afford taking the risk of not finding anywhere else to eat, so we had dinner in that place, struggling to cope with the stench of the cigars. At least the food was decent, I have to say.

Back to the theatre to collect our tickets, and we split up again. I had to find a place with good espresso in order to feel good with myself, and also had to do some minor adjustments to one of the projects I was working on. Took a seat at the cafe located just outside one of the fancier hotels there on Pennsylvania Avenue — a stone‐throw from the white‐house.

Mental note to self: next time, when you order a double‐shot of espresso, be prepared to pay for two espresso’s. Otherwise you’d be stuck with an $8 bill for potentially‐mediocre coffee.

Went back to the venue about 10 minutes before the show started.

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The Warner Theatre is located in Pennsylvania Avenue NW and 13th Street, three blocks away from one of the most famous addresses in the world — 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue NW, AKA “The White House”. Very crowded at the reception hall, where line‐ups to the restrooms intersect with line‐ups to the merchandise stands and for the theatre itself, creating quite the unpleasant mess. Nothing much to say about the external appearance of the venue — nothing too special, in my opinion.

The front row, where we were seated, was very close to the stage, and the stage’s “front line” (namely, where Mark was sitting) was very close to the edge, which was great as it adds a lot to the overall experience.

Other than two drunken humanoids at the right‐hand side of the front‐row, who kept talking to each other during the first part of the show, the crowd was a pleasant one — good to be in a concert with nice, respectful crowd after the notorious Mashantucket experience the night before.

As for the show: no setlist changes, and I’m pretty convinced that we’re through with any setlist changes for the rest of the North American tour.

Judging by Mark’s entrance to the stage, as well as the first part of the show, it was evident that he was in a lot of pain. According to him, the medication he’s been taking for coping with the pinched nerve still causes some sticky discharge from his palms. In my opinion it did affected his performance, during the first hour or so of the show (though not significantly). Things appeared to have improved significantly after Sultans of Swing.

I have no doubt that Mark is putting a tremendous amount of effort in order to give the best show that he possibly can under his condition; it is evident that he’s going through some serious pain, yet still manages to ignite the crowd and give great performances. I never spoke to the guy before and therefore can’t tell, however Guy Fletcher, who has been working with him for such a long time, has mentioned more than once that Mark is a perfectionist; perfectionists tend to get really upset when events beyond their control impact their performance (that much I do know, having been an uncompromising perfectionist throughout my entire life up to about a year ago), and I can only imagine his frustration.

Regardless, I am again wishing him quick and full recovery.

The concert ended at 10:30pm; beautiful night outside and a quick convertible ride back to the hotel. Was so good to unwind after such a long day.

Later,
Isaac