Davey Boy 2.0

Thinking maybe I'd like to put this on my Christmas wishlist. Looks like it would be quite the collection. Last book I purchased by Blakesberg documented the GD50 shows. To my pleasant surprise I found myself and crew in one of the crowd photos months later. 
https://www.google.ca/url?sa=t&source=web&rct=j&url=https://www.jambase.com/article/jay-blakesberg-announces-new-book-eyes-world-grateful-dead-photography-1965-1995&ved=0ahUKEwiz2I217LvXAhVJ74MKHWf3D7AQFgjHATAm&usg=AOvVaw30tKMaGZsIaFGEdF58w4IM

102517
Kind of lost a day there due to time change.  Hong Kong is twelve hours ahead of Ottawa.  Makes me wonder: if I brought my cat with me on the plane would he still be nocturnal?
We arrived in Hong Kong at 10:30 last night.  By 11pm we were standing in line at the lost luggage service, by midnight we were on the express train into the city.  The train was super-modern and extremely efficient/easy to use.  So was the subway system we transferred to - easy-peasy.
Walked to our hotel (an easy task given that we were both without luggage), again fairly easy to find and checked in.  I walked to the nearest 7-11 for some beers and snacks.  Okay, I actually went to buy a bottle of water but when I saw all that beer in the fridge I forgot to buy the water so I had to go back.  When I went back I bought more beer (for Heather this time) and darn-near forgot to buy the water again.  We didn’t get to sleep until about 3:30am, which is a little strange after a twenty-six-hour travel day.  I was shocked when we woke up and checked the clock; it was 1:30pm.  I know to me that’s 1:30am, but I haven’t slept that late in a long time.
We got up, retrieved our luggage that had been dropped off at the front desk, and got out of there for a walkabout and to look for a place to eat.  Heather was starved, I wasn’t hungry at all.  After looking at about a thousand menus (restaurants are absolutely everywhere in our area) we settled on a semi-fancy place.  Heather got dumplings and noodles with pork while i got the vermicelli with shredded spicy beef.  For some reason my appetite left me shortly after I ordered but I ate probably half my meal.  The highlight of lunch was when Heather bit into her first dumpling and hot liquid squirted out of it and shot straight up her nose.
After lunch we went for coffees around the corner and killed time until it was time to go to the waterfront.  We aimed for the Avenue Of Stars, the Asian version of Hollywood’s Walk Of Fame but were shut out as the area is being renovated.  No biggie, but I was looking forward to seeing the Bruce Lee statue.  Regardless, we found ourselves in the right place for the nightly laser show.
Every night at 8pm Honk Kong hosts the world’s largest (or was it Asia’s largest?) permanent sound and light show at the harbour.  We found a good spot and stared in quiet awe at the astounding skyline while we waited for the show to start.  
Aside from the stunning architecture of the countless buildings lining both sides of the harbour, at night many of the structures become canvases for giant light shows.  I had only seen this once before, at a hotel we stayed at in Miami, but this was redonkulous.  At least a dozen buildings were constantly flashing and pulsating, and it looked just awesome.  So awesome, in fact, that the laser/light show itself was decidedly underwhelming in comparison.  Aside from the sheer logistics of co-ordinating the lasers and the individual building lights to sync up (perfectly) with the music it was really not so impressive.  They need to get CK5 out here for a week or two to design some serious visuals but hey, it was better than nothing.
The show ended at 8:30 and we idled up Nathan Road past Jordon Road to the night market (after stopping at 7-11 for a couple of traveller beers - drinking in the street is so civilized; I’m surprised I never see anyone but me doing it).  The night market was about as interesting as the light show; that is, better than not going but really, it was just a bunch of Made In China crap.
(I got a kick out of the Star Wars Lego knock-offs though: Star Wart and Star Plan.)
By then my appetite was back to jumping up and down so we searched for a restaurant and ultimately settled on a Thai place where I devoured an order of garlic bread and got halfway through a plate of chicken Pad Thai before mysteriously losing my appetite once again.  
After dinner we decided to call it a day and went back to the hotel and went to bed, though neither of us could sleep.  I haven’t laid awake trying to fall asleep in years but I was awake until at least 5:30am.  
It’s hard to fight jet lag.
 

102417
Actually, it was only one drink (each), and an order of fries (again, each).
The flight to Beijing went fairly well (for a thirteen-hour flight).  Heather and I had booked the aisle and window seats, leaving the middle seat hopefully empty.  No such luck this time, and we didn’t end up asking the lady to switch because she was watching movies and Heather’s headset movie machine was not working.  
I had a beer and a pretty lousy chicken meal (not as bad as Heather’s Chinese fatty-pork), watched Wonder Woman and the new Spiderman movie (both not too bad), and curled up for got some fitful sleep.  I was finally fully asleep when the lights in the cabin illuminated and the loudspeaker came on*.  After a loud, aggressive bout of Chinese came the English translation, which went something like this:  
“Ladies and gentlemen, we are three hours from Beijing.  We hope you have been getting a good rest, and we wish you the best of luck getting back to sleep after this announcement.  Please enjoy the rest of your painfully long flight.”
I just don’t get it.
I did, however, manage to get back to sleep just in time for the forty-minute pre-landing wakeup warning.  
We landed in Beijing around 5pm local time.  Looking out the window as we approached the airport I noticed how very foggy it was outside.  When we actually landed I couldn’t see any fog outside at all.  Turns out it was not fog, it was pollution.  A crazy, crazy amount of pollution.
We got off our tardy plane with less than 45 minutes to catch our connection to Hong Kong.  We jogged through the airport until we came to a sign that pointed one way for domestic flights and another way for international flights.
Which stopped these two airport-runners dead in our tracks.
Now, if you’re in Beijing and you are heading to Hong Kong, would you consider it a domestic flight or an international flight?
Of course Hong Kong was a British territory for a long, long time but we all know it went back to China about twenty years ago.  So, domestic right?  But wait a minute, I’m carrying Chinese currency and Hong Kong currency; if it has it’s own money it must be international, right?
(God only knows what country Macau is in!)
The lack of any additional signage whatsoever really added to the mystery.
So we lined up for a domestic transfer and were waiting to go through customs when a helpful stranger suggested we were in the wrong line.  We booked it over to the international line which was moving very slow and kept getting cut by airline employees pushing older folks in wheelchairs.  We eventually tried to stop one of the wheelchair-pushing line-butters.  He showed us a boarding pass that said 8pm.  We showed him ours that said we boarded at 6pm, which at this point was less than ten minutes away.
He was impressed, but he still butted in front of us.  
When we finally got through that line we ran downstairs and found a long queue to get through security (which was pretty redundant as we had just gotten off an international flight and had not left any secure section of the airport).  We showed the guard our boarding passes and without a flicker of a change of expression - the dude acted like a human robot - he indicated we were to follow him and he delivered us to the front of the line.  Security still took a while; I had to stand on a stool and hold my arms straight out for a full two-minute pat down.  When we got out of there we ran as fast as we could though we were pretty confident we were going to miss our connection (which would make us eat tonight’s hotel reservation and would they cancel the rest of our reservation if we don’t check in tonight and do we even have a phone number to call and will they speak English even if we do and…?).  
I got ahead of Heather, yelling over my shoulder that I’d hold the plane for her.  When I finally saw gate E17 from a distance I could see that it was empty save the one, single check-in girl.  She spotted me and started waving her arms.  I couldn’t believe it, but it looked like were going to make it!  I got to the gate and I breathlessly pushed my boarding pass into to her extended hand.  Pointing back down the hallway I tried my best to speak.  “Hea…ther…(pant, pant, pant)…still…come…(pant, pant)…ing.”
We made it onto the plane at the last minute and - dripping sweat - we took our seats in the last row, this time with nobody between us.  Mercy.  We lifted off and plunged through the smog bubble and up into the sky, and now here I sit with just about three hours between me and Hong Kong.
The second plane only has those pop-down screens where we all watch the same movie**, which in this case is a Chinese film conveniently supplemented with Chinese subtitles.  Ah well, here comes the drink cart.
And it’s 5am somewhere.
*I always fly wearing earplugs and an eye mask (I call it ‘flying Tommy-style’) but I had accidentally left everything in my carry on and I just could not find the gumption to get up and dig them out, though I kept telling myself that I should.  And of course that sort of internal argument can do nothing but keep you mostly awake.  Like debating whether or not to get up and go to the bathroom when you’re sleeping in a tent.  
**Though I’m an unabashed lover of the vast entertainment selection generally available on airplanes I gotta say I miss the old days when a screen would drop down at the front of the cabin and everyone on the plane was forced to watch (or try to ignore) the same movie together.  Whether we liked it or not, the cabin would inevitably laugh and gasp together at the funny and surprising parts.  Sure we all imagined having our own customized entertainment system built right in to the seatback in front of us, but we knew that was only a crazy dream future times and until then, hey at least we had Gene Wilder and Richard Pryor in Stir Crazy.
And though the fulfillment of our collective dreams may have gained us freewill we have suffered a tragic and irreversible loss.  We have lost community.

I haven't posted my travel logs in a long time.  In honour of our good friend Bradm (who enjoyed my travel logs and loved it when this board was more active) I'm going to start posting them again.  Though I don't have anything solid on the horizon right now I did just get back from China, so here goes:
102317
I think this might be my record for most miles travelled versus least time prepping.  Getting randomly yanked off the street and thrown into an airplane would have been the only way I could have been any less prepared as I was when we left Ottawa for China this morning.  When I woke up at 7am I hadn’t even started packing yet, and our curfew for leaving the house to take the cat to the sitters was 9:30.  (Heather’s mom again; she seems to be getting slightly less annoyed by the chore every time).  
Frankly I hadn’t given the trip hardly a thought.  Leading up to today I had been busy getting a proposal together for a new book idea which completely distracted me from any thoughts of vacation.  After plugging away for the last week or so I had finished my rough draft at midnight last night and gone straight to bed.  
(This all completely falls in with the fact that I booked the trip to China with hardly a thought as well.  A while back I saw a post on facebook advertising an Air China seat sale to Hong Kong priced at just $501 per person, return from Montreal.  I told Heather about it, we shrugged and booked it.  How could we not?  Imagine how I felt when a few weeks later I saw another post advertising the same flights at just $400, these ones time departing from Ottawa!  Can’t win them all.)
Of course I got it together and packed with time to spare.  We dropped the cat off and made sure he was happy before circling the car around to the bus station where I left Heather and all of our luggage to stand in line for the Montreal bus.  I drove home, pounded a quick tall-boy and power-walked back to the Greyhound station, joining Heather in the Montreal line in thirty minutes flat.
And here we are sitting on the bus.  I’ve gone over the book proposal for a quick proof-read and will send it in from the airport.  Then maybe I can start to relax and think about Honk Kong.
Though I suspect I’ll just head straight to the nearest airport lounge and think about ordering a few drinks.
 

I suspect a lot of you guys know this story but I think it was after this Dave Matthews show in 2001 when, on public transport back to Ottawa... well I hadn't really enjoyed the show and may have been venting a bit. I spotted a lanky fellow freak in a Phish t-shirt... and announced to everyone in the immediate vicinity "Now there's someone that knows good music". I told him about how nero was playing afterward, downtown and told him he should go see the show.
Years later and every now and then he'd sling his arm around me, reminiscing about that fateful night. It almost became comical, trying to remember who owed whom a round since the last show, since the last shared moment of musical magic, since the last exchange of the broadest of shit-eating grins. I think we've all heard that line from him "THIS is why I tape!" and everyone who did hear it couldn't help but feel that infectious unbridled joy.
Over the years his love of live music and enthusiasm for the next show never wavered. The number of friends he met and embraced along the way was and remains a shining example of the kind of unconditional friendship and love that we should all strive for. Farewell Brad, thank you for the legacy, the memories and the love.
 

Brad's origin story. So good. Three years after that date he told the story in a thread of his own. I've bumped it up to the main page. 

I suspect a lot of you guys know this story but I think it was after this Dave Matthews show in 2001 when, on public transport back to Ottawa... well I hadn't really enjoyed the show and may have been venting a bit. I spotted a lanky fellow freak in a Phish t-shirt... and announced to everyone in the immediate vicinity "Now there's someone that knows good music". I told him about how nero was playing afterward, downtown and told him he should go see the show.
Years later and every now and then he'd sling his arm around me, reminiscing about that fateful night. It almost became comical, trying to remember who owed whom a round since the last show, since the last shared moment of musical magic, since the last exchange of the broadest of shit-eating grins. I think we've all heard that line from him "THIS is why I tape!" and everyone who did hear it couldn't help but feel that infectious unbridled joy.
Over the years his love of live music and enthusiasm for the next show never wavered. The number of friends he met and embraced along the way was and remains a shining example of the kind of unconditional friendship and love that we should all strive for. Farewell Brad, thank you for the legacy, the memories and the love.
 

I suspect a lot of you guys know this story but I think it was after this Dave Matthews show in 2001 when, on public transport back to Ottawa... well I hadn't really enjoyed the show and may have been venting a bit. I spotted a lanky fellow freak in a Phish t-shirt... and announced to everyone in the immediate vicinity "Now there's someone that knows good music". I told him about how nero was playing afterward, downtown and told him he should go see the show.
Years later and every now and then he'd sling his arm around me, reminiscing about that fateful night. It almost became comical, trying to remember who owed whom a round since the last show, since the last shared moment of musical magic, since the last exchange of the broadest of shit-eating grins. I think we've all heard that line from him "THIS is why I tape!" and everyone who did hear it couldn't help but feel that infectious unbridled joy.
Over the years his love of live music and enthusiasm for the next show never wavered. The number of friends he met and embraced along the way was and remains a shining example of the kind of unconditional friendship and love that we should all strive for. Farewell Brad, thank you for the legacy, the memories and the love.
 

I suspect a lot of you guys know this story but I think it was after this Dave Matthews show in 2001 when, on public transport back to Ottawa... well I hadn't really enjoyed the show and may have been venting a bit. I spotted a lanky fellow freak in a Phish t-shirt... and announced to everyone in the immediate vicinity "Now there's someone that knows good music". I told him about how nero was playing afterward, downtown and told him he should go see the show.
Years later and every now and then he'd sling his arm around me, reminiscing about that fateful night. It almost became comical, trying to remember who owed whom a round since the last show, since the last shared moment of musical magic, since the last exchange of the broadest of shit-eating grins. I think we've all heard that line from him "THIS is why I tape!" and everyone who did hear it couldn't help but feel that infectious unbridled joy.
Over the years his love of live music and enthusiasm for the next show never wavered. The number of friends he met and embraced along the way was and remains a shining example of the kind of unconditional friendship and love that we should all strive for. Farewell Brad, thank you for the legacy, the memories and the love.
 

That's what the guy said. He was standing a few feet away from me on the bus, and he had a Phil and Friends t-shirt on. I had a Phish t-shirt on, and we made eye/t-shirt contact, recognizing the common ground we had both tread on.
The "they" he was referring to was the Dave Matthews Band, and we were on our way back from seeing them at the Corel Centre.
"No, they're not," I replied.
"Well, if you like Phish, you have to check out 'nero'," he said.
That was the second time I'd heard that band's name that day; earlier, I'd had a reply from a guy I had e-mailed, who was looking for people to fill out a jamband he was forming. He didn't need a guitar player, but told me to check out 'nero' if I liked jammy guitar stuff.
"They're playing downtown tonight. You should come out," my bus-buddy said.
OK, I took the twice-hearing-of-a-band-I-didn't-know-in-one-day as a Sign, and went along.
It was a tiny, upstairs bar, and the decor was more like a biker hangout than a Nice Place. There was a stage over in the corner, with a trio of musicians' gear on.
The band started playing, and I was hooked. Walls of emotion-filled music wafted over me, wrapped around me, and then went through me. I don't think I'd ever been that close to something like that.
Time passed, and the band finished. Being a guitar player and a gearhead, I noticed something unusual: the guitarist's amp.
"Hi, I'm Brad," I introduced myself.
"Hi, I'm Dave," he replied.
"What model of Dr. Z is that?" I asked.
"Wow...most people don't know it's not a Zenith..."
Can you say "fast friends"? I thought you could...
Can you remember where you were or what you doing three years ago? I can: all of the all of the above happened on Tuesday, August 7, 2001, three years ago, today.
I walked away from the bar, The Whipping Post, with a couple of things: knowledge of a new (to me) band I liked a lot, a website to go to (then called The Phish Sanctuary), and a couple of new friends, including the guy I talked to him on the bus: Davey Boy.
I had spent most of the '90s living a quiet life. I might go to a show or two, but hardly ever a club; I didn't know many bands, and had a pretty small circle of friends. Some of my "hibernation" was due to a hangover from a pretty tough few years at school, but a lot of it was, I think, shyness, and the paralysis induced by a feeling of safety.
Since then, well, words almost fail me. I've made more friends, seen more shows (125 days with shows in 2003, alone), and done more in the past three years than I'd done in the ten years before. I don't amalgate well (there's a certain bit of loner in my psyche), but this community has, without thinking, I believe, it's just the way it works, welcomed me, and allowed me to grow and do what I can and be what I am (and have become). It's given me so much, and allowed me to give back so much, that, I can't (and don't want to) imagine what my life would be (and would have been) without all of it.
Bring on the next three years! (Well, after I get through celebrating the anniversary at GTB tonight. :
{{{{{{{{{all of you}}}}}}}}}
Aloha,
BRAD (Been Reminiscing About Daves)

I just saw their show in Buffalo on Wednesday night. Unbelievable musicianship across the stage during all 3 sets.
So many notes played. Its kind of hard to put the experience into words.
 

Looks like I know what I am going to be doing, simply have to figure out where......................
https://www.jambase.com/article/john-mclaughlin-jimmy-herring-announce-free-webcast-featuring-4th-show-tour

that was probably the best pub for catching bands back then and yes the Wellington was its name before it became Scherzo
I have a vague notion that the lineup was down the street that night but I may be misundermembering or something

Our own Blurry managed to raise over $6000 via The Hip for some good causes.
https://globalnews.ca/news/3823833/stratford-man-selling-tragically-hip-signed-hockey-card-for-charity/ 

Figured this was the best thread to share this.
 

Everybody's favourite Uncle of Rock and Roll would be the title I'd give him.

https://nowtoronto.com/music/massey-hall-renovations-new-venues/
 

Five years ago tonight:
https://archive.org/details/um2012-10-24.oktava.flac16
Umphrey's McGee - (live recording) 2012-10-24, The Danforth Music Hall, Toronto, ON
Aloha,
Brad

Here's my Gord story:
In Sept 2009 the Hip did a theater tour, and played 3 nights in Ottawa at the venerable National Arts Center. I went the 3rd night, we had pretty good seats in the 6th or 7th row, dead center. It was awesome. The performance of "Scared" gave me the music shivers! I'd seen the Hip many times before but this was the first time I realized that Gord was acting out the song's lyrics with his facial expressions. It was brilliant.
During "Blow at High Dough" Gord came out into the crowd, walking on the backs of the seats. He stopped right beside me, put his hand on my shoulder to support himself, and stuck the microphone in my face so I could sing a line. I shouted "Blow at High Dough" as best I could. I think I was in key. He was sweating profusely, and much of his sweat ended up on my shoulder and head. I didn't wash for a few days!

that was probably the best pub for catching bands back then and yes the Wellington was its name before it became Scherzo
I have a vague notion that the lineup was down the street that night but I may be misundermembering or something

I made it to one local impromptu gig at a pub in kingston but only caught the tail-end.    
I still remember the cheap promotional posters around our highschool promoting The Tragically Hip for one of our dances.  The one cover that is still fresh in my mind was their cover of "Money" which I knew as a Beatles song.
I volunteered to work at Another Roadside Attraction in kingston at richardson stadium in 1993.  I was assigned to mind the artist gate and had to verify credentials.  Gord came to the gate to enter and I acted like I had no idea who he was. 
"I'm in the band. I'm playing." 
I asked for credentials and said I couldn't let him in without proof.
Then I laughed, he laughed.  Chatted briefly and I asked for a smoke.  He gave me one but didn't have a lighter.  He then tore off to the stage at the center of the field.  5 minutes later, I noticed him running back my way.  He returned to light the smoke with a lighter that he'd borrowed.
Swell guy.
 

Bouche has a great story about getting into Hip shows in bars in Kingston- I think he would've been underage at the time ta boot.
They played our highschool dances a few times, were more of a Doors/Who cover band at the time. I think every Kingstonian has one or at the most, two, degrees of separation from them.

I spent many days for night travelling the US in search of the smallest, coolest club in which to see them and that I could get in to at that time (I was 16 through 18). Although The Hip didn't spend much time hanging around the clubs in the late afternoons following sound checks, The Rheostatics did and they were oh so cool and kind to us wayward hosers. There were more than a few afternoons that we hung around that old Delta 88, scarfing down the remains of the deli trays and cookie platters. I learned about life on those trips, I learned about heroes and I learned about friendship. 
My favourite memory of Gord is from the REM show in 1995 at the Molson Ampitheater. Long after REM had left the stage and the crowd thinned out, I was walking with my brother up through the 200s when I heard my name called out. To this day I still cannot believe that Gord had remembered me, especially amidst a crowd of 1000s, and was saying hello and introducing me to his wife and to Mike Myers (!). That was near the peak of the popularity and he had recalled my name and I will never forget that moment. Neither will my little brother who was 14 at the time. At that moment I had ascended into legendary older brother territory and he got more than a few miles out of that story over the years.
This shot is from the Chameleon Club in Syracuse on Apr 27, 1995:

 
To paraphrase the man himself: We are all richer for having known him.
 

I was at a restaurant in downtown Kingston last June having dinner on the patio before a Bob Dylan concert at K-Rock. I knew that Rob Baker was a regular at the restaurant so it wasn't a complete shock when he walked right behind me, leaving the restaurant. It was, however, a shock to notice that Gord Downie (and Gord Sinclair) were with him. They stopped to linger on the sidewalk and Gord Downie noticed that I had noticed him. 
As I stared with my jaw slightly agape Gord leaned down and put his elbows on the little fence that seperated the patio from the sidewalk. He rested his chin in his hands and smiled, staring at me with a bemused look on his face. I stared and gaped, he stared and smiled. It seemed to last for thirty seconds or more. Eventually he got me: I flinched and looked away. 
When I looked back the three of them had set off down the sidewalk towards the Dylan show, completely unmolested by the throngs of people in the busy streets, all of whom had the respect to treat them the same as everyone else.
It's a wonderful final memory to have of a man I admire so much.