I arrived in Toronto around midnight, as is my wont, and walked into C's apartment to find delicious capaletti and garlic bread waiting for me…this was excellent, as carbs with carbs is my favourite nutrient combo. Usually we stay up really late playing Nintendo and drinking and being idiots, but this time not even the excitement of our impending trip could keep us up past 2am. We were zonked. Of course, this meant that we got up at a reasonable hour, and not at 1pm, which is my usual M.O. Nothing really exciting to report, other than eating some fabulous burritos at Chipotle before we shoved off. C, especially, was stoked about the burrito. Justifiably.
The plane ride itself was uneventful, other than a girl who threw up in a garbage can upon disembarking the plane. It was pretty gross, but she handled it with aplomb, and we decided to let her alone – I know if I were being sick into a garbage can in the London Gatwick airport, the last thing that I would want would be for 3 Canadian idiots to ask me if I’m okay. So, yes. That was that. The friggen Hertz guy kept trying to upsell us to a wide-ass Audi, but C held her ground on keeping our compact car, probably due to the remembered pain of that stupid Vauxhall from last time. (And relative poverty, as the Audi doubled our car costs... -C)
Once we got on the road, it only took C a minute to get back into the swing of driving on the “wrong” side of the road. We drove along, marveling at the scenery, until we stopped at a service station that featured a Burger King (Mistake). We did not stop especially for the BK, but it was there, and so we ate. Time was running short before we were to go and see the Monkees in Newcastle, and there would be no time later to refuel our tummies. The best part of the food at BK (There was no best part) was that it was food, and that their pop was not easily identifiable (a fun game!). That was a nice touch. Our Diet Cokes were, correctly, identified by Amy as tasting like Sprite. They were clearly Diet Sprola (patent pending). In retrospect, the sketchy food may have caused the Backstreet Boys singalong to As Long as You Love Me...including synchro dance moves in the front by C and I.
We were running kind of late for the Monkees, due to a bit of GPS difficulty and the fact that our flight in had been delayed by a couple hours. We rolled up to City Hall in Newcastle and Amy and I got out and ran into the venue. Luckily, Peter, Micky, and Davy had only just started “Theme from the Monkees” (you know, “Hey, hey we’re the Monkees…”). I really had to go to the bathroom, so I asked the nice ticket man where they were. He replied “we don’t have bathrooms…but we have toilets”. At this point, the Monkees are moving onto their second song, and my bladder is going to explode, so I laugh politely and take off like a bat out of hell. I listened to the next song in the great acoustics of a downstairs bathroom, then sprinted back up the stairs.
Finally, it was time to take our place in history (or, rather, our seats in row W at a Monkees concert). I won’t bore you with details, but the concert was the shit. It was so great, I was so thrilled – they did all their hits and a couple of less-well-known songs as well. Light on the banter and heavy on the music…just how I like it. After about an hour, they kind of stopped playing and did a little dance offstage for a – get this – intermission. An intermission! Awesome! Let’s all go to the lobby and get ourselves a snack (or, in my case, a t-shirt). During the intermission, we made the executive decision to move from our floor seats up to the balcony, because it looked as though people were having more fun. So, we watched the second half of the show dancing around. They closed with an AMAZING version of Daydream Believer, which even non Monkee-ites C and A enjoyed. I stumbled out of the venue in a stupor induced by the most energetic geriatrics I have ever seen. Actually, I’d like to take this moment to say that I don’t like the Monkees ironically. I straight up love the Monkees. I have always enjoyed their show, and I think their music is just the tops. So, when I say that I enjoyed this concert, I’m not using “enjoy” in that hipster way where you’re mocking the act…I mean that the Monkees fucking rocked and I liked it more than a fat kid likes cake. So, I was dying of excitement the whole way back to the hotel.
In order to try to avoid an extra charge for having a third person in a two-person room, we had to be sneaky upon our arrival to the Holiday Inn Express (jealous?). So, C went inside and did the talking (as is our agreement), and made friends with the front desk clerk…who subsequently came outside to show her where to park. Luckily, Amy is a ninja, and ducked down so that he wouldn’t see her. The next morning, we realized that he could not have cared less, but at the time, our subterfuge seemed like a genius scheme. In fact, it even extended so far as our attempt to finagle more blankets and towels. I suggested the tactic “send more, I’m cold, I’m a woman”, but C decided just to use the ol’ “send us some towels and a blanket, please”. A bold choice.
Nothing much else to report, really. We slept quite well, and were happy with our day. Oh, and I guess excited for the rest of our trip…even though I think that, deep down, both C and A know that the Monkees will be an impossible act to follow.
Nanoo nanoo,
KDu
Oh, there was something else. KDu was chilling out in the room while Amy and I went to pick up a pizza for a late-night supper. Apparently, they sell some illicit substances. At the pizza parlor. This notice was posted.
Legal. Highs.
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