Day off, travel
The “pack” (load into the trailer) last night in Barcelona took forever. The venue, like many on this tour, was on a second floor. So, an elevator had to be utilized to transfer the gear up and down floors, which is usually a slow, tedious task. The typical configuration is that Robbie will stay on stage, I will be stationed at the elevator or at street level and Static will oversee the truck pack. This means an eye will be on the gear at every point of the transfer. Last thing we need is a missing guitar (an example of which occurred in Madrid, when Brian “lifted” one of Frank’s guitars from a transfer point that was unmonitored, a mistake which I readily admit was my fault.)
The pack was further slowed by a few other factors: 1) the bus was parked down the street, but due to European transportation regulations, Pasquel, our driver was unable to move the bus to the loading zone, much less start the bus, for another few hours; 2) some of the Spanish loaders were about 5’ 2” tall and couldn’t have weighed more than a buck twenty; and 3) because of their slight build the loaders used our Marshall cabinets as dollies across the cobble stone walkway to transfer items that were normally carried. Therefore, the cabinets made 8 to 10 trips back and forth before being packed, instead of the one trip that is the norm.
After the load, one would think that we would hit the berths in our bus and take off. But, again, with the transportation rules, the bus was going nowhere. And with a corner bar right outside of our tour bus, the noise from the locals inside seemed to be humming the words, “Have a beer, have a beer.”
By the time the bus departed, it was time to get to the airport for our 6:00 a.m. flight to London. By the time my head hit the pillow, it was merely ½ hour before I heard Pasquel’s wake up call of, “Gentlemen, we’re here, time to get up.” The only other sleep I had was another ½ hour on the plane. Unfortunately, instead of the soft bunk pillow, I had the pleasure of resting my head on the fold down tray in front of me. If you wonder why Ryan Air’s tickets to London were the extremely affordable price of $39, it’s because they don’t have to spend the money training their attendants to saying, “The Captain has started his decent into London. Please put you seatbacks in their up right position.” That’s because Ryan Air’s seats don’t recline!!
But, Steve, Brian and I, sharing a row, nonetheless retaliated by having fun with the Ryan Air staff. Every time our stewardesses would walk the aisles checking to see if us passengers had our seat belts on, we would grab our seat belt buckles and, in concert, give four to five hard tugs in a “pumping” manner. This brought giggles and red cheeks to the faces the Ryan Air staff. And it brought belly aches and tears of laughter to the three of us. By the time we hit London, we were delirious with lack of sleep and laughter.
[Here's Sherman, Frank's dad, at the "Merch Table." Once we got into Spain, we sold a lot more of the pink halter tops. Hardly sold any in German, because the weather is too cold and the women are too tall.]
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