Brighton
The show was on the legendary Brighton Beach Boardwalk. We got there early and a few of us walked around. It was a dreary day, which made the mist coming off the English Channel that much more interesting to look at. In the distance we could see all of the old rollercoasters and other random amusement park rides of yesteryear.
I got to take a freezing cold shower, which would be great if I was trying to jerk off. I wasn’t. I didn’t realize until a few days later when the same thing kept happening to me, that you have to pull a string hanging from the ceiling to activate the hot water heater. Every shower that I have taken over here has made me feel more disgusting then when I entered it.
The UK may as well be Europe; because everyone smells over here, myself included.
Mickey Fitts came to the show and I got to talk to him for a while afterwards. That man has been a skinhead longer than I have been alive. It was definitely a surreal experience for me to sit there and shoot the shit with him about a myriad of subjects including our upcoming trip to Israel (as the Business had recently played there). He assured me that you CAN eat bacon there and drink beer. He promised that the girls were some of the most beautiful he has ever encountered. What a buzzkill! I had just been planning on getting blown up.
It was St. George’s Day and Frank definitely acted like a local and got completely BOMBED. He ended up leaving the parked bus at one point and we were worried he wasn’t going to make it back for bus call; if at all. Jamey got in a girl’s car and was driving on the wrong side of the road; well the wrong side in the UK at least, and was screaming Frank’s name out the window like he was a dog. 3 hours later Frank came stumbling home.
No comments:
Post a Comment