12/02/09 SWEET PARIS!

I had plans last night to wake up early and go to the Tate for an hour. And although I still woke up early, it seemed like a bad idea to fit one more thing in. We already have to get a taxi, get to the Eurostar, get on a train to Paris, go rent a van in Paris, reacquaint myself with driving on the right side of the road, and get to soundcheck on time, and then leave after BBE’s set to start our 8 hour drive to the next day’s show in Germany. So yeah, 34 minutes at the Tate seemed like a bad idea. I’m sad, but it just wasn’t meant to be this time through.

I eat my last English Breakfast (tear) and we sardine into the taxi. I can’t even see James in the back seat, can you?

The train ride to Paris goes even smoother than I could have ever hoped, other than I get a lil sick on the train. I can’t even remember the last time I got motion sickness, but I persevere and make it without perfuming the train car with my English Breakfast.

Charlie goes on the quest for the rental van with me. We almost get the nice Scandinavian rental car desk attendant to come on tour with us. And so now it’s 6:30 and the firs thing I get to do is drive in Parisian rush hour traffic. Holy shit, it’s like driving in a massive, scared school of fish. Two of my immediate thoughts are:

-Great Britian, I miss your yellow light flashing before turning green

-Paris I like your little eye-level green light, but I don’t like that you don’t have a signal light across the road.

The club is super swank , a little underground deal that just keeps going and going as you walk down the stairs. The dressing rooms and actually caverns cut into the ground. Our backline, alas, suffered a bit of mistranslation. So we have no kick drum and four guitar stands. Interesting.

Micky is our Artist Liaison, and he takes care of us like battle champs. We hit up a quaint mood-lit French/Italian Bistro and proceed to sophisticatedly inhale beef tenderloin, tuna steaks, gnocchi, and pesto penne with a couple bottle of Valepeccio wine. If they feed me like this every night, then fine, if you twist my arm, I will do this forever.

We take shots with Micky and effervesce at each other “you the best”, “no you the best”, “no you the best”, “no YOU the best” etc. Micky is totally into Rush Hour.

Holy shit I left GB and I’m in a country now that doesn’t have English as it’s first language, and the dj STILL plays Parklife, Smells like Teen Spirit, and Song 2. WTF?!?

BBE finally gets playing around 1AM and the crowd starts a CIRCLE PIT. A very nice, excited circle pit with no slam dancers doing the skankin’ pickle or whatever it’s called.

At the end of the night a girl and her friend are glowing as they ask me to sign their notebook. Well, why not., I do know how to clutch a pen and move it around on paper so that it looks like something. She tells me that she just loves the Junior Boys, and I realize she thinks I’m one of them. COOL. Enjoy your autograph! XOXO, LUV U FOREVA! THX FOR LISTENING!