[kj] Back in NYC/Custom Troubles/Big Thanks/PICTURES!

[Alexander Smith]

Good lord am I fucking tired. Yeah, this is another long one, but gimme 
a break. And there are links to pics at the bottom.

Alex Back in NYC reporting once again for Active Duty.

Got in this morning (after traipsing around London all day Saturday 
with List-Meister Misera). My flight was chock-full of THREE British 
high school classes combined on their way to a big communal visit to 
NYC. It was like flying over the Atlantic in a massive fucking school 
bus. Mr.inNYC was NOT at all pleased. They were fine, though, for the 
most part. On the way off the plane, who should be greeting me as I 
cross the threshold but Mr.RICHARD BRANSON, VIRGIN CEO himself! 
Actually shook the man's hand. Stranger than fiction.

....and then things got shitty again.

I was pulled over -- quite unexpectedly and frustratingly inexplicably 
-- by U.S. CUSTOMS. That's right, MY OWN FUCKING COUNTRY decided that 
it needed to have a little chatty-chat with me. Going through the 
motions at the custom's gate, the decidedly unsmiling man behind the 
desk drew a BIG YELLOW LINE down my declaration card and told me to 
"see the gate clerk." Not clued in that something was up, said clerk 
said "go see Number 15!". Okay. I walk over to Number Fifteen (despite 
the good-natured entreaties of clearly bored Number Sixteen, a jovial 
black gent). Oh no, I went with equally unsmiling Number Fifteen, a 
true jarhead with a buzzcut and a bad attitude. At this point, I 
*STILL* haven't realized that something is up. "Have you ever been in 
trouble with Customs before, sir?" he barks. "Umm.....what do you mean 
before? Am I in trouble with Customs NOW?" "Just answer the question, 
sir!" Fuck. "No sir." "Have you ever lived in Seattle?" "Ummmm....no, 
I'm a native New Yorker and always have been --- and have lots of 
documentation to support it". "What do you do for a living, sir?" 
"Ummm...I'm a journalist, I supp..." "LET ME SEE YOUR PASSPORT NUMBER 
IMMEDIATELY!" By this point, I'm getting alarmed. "Ummm....is something 
wrong?" I'm panicking now, as I didn't declare the six little jars of 
fancy mustard I bought at Fortnum & Mason for my mother-in-law. But, 
somewhat surprisingly, they don't look in my bag. Lots of frowning, 
typing, brow-furrowing and suspicious staring. Finally, some stamping 
of my passport and I'm given a "comment card". "Am I in trouble, 
officer?" I ask...sounding worryingly like Shaggy in 'Scooby-Do'. "I'm 
not allowed to tell you, sir, but if you contact the address in the 
document I just handed you, perhaps they can elaborate. With a last 
name as common as yours......" he trailed off. And waved me off. And 
off I went, shaken and paranoid. I still haven't the faintest clue why 
the pulled me aside, but I have the sneaking suspicion that it might've 
had *EVERYTHING* to do with the "MALICIOUS DAMAGE OPERATIVE" badge I 
was sporting on my jacket lapel. I'll get you for this, Coles.


Alright, enough about that. Here's the meaty part. I'd just like to 
truly thank *EACH AND EVERY GATHERER AND GATHERER-ASSOCIATE* I was 
fortunate enough to come into contact with in the past three days. I'm 
worried about citing names, as I'm deathly afraid of leaving anybody 
out, but I feel I'd be truly, truly remiss if I didn't specifically 
thank.....


** Rob Moss ** -- Rob was a gent enough to pick me up at Heathrow and 
shepherd me around the town for both gigs, more or less making sure I 
didn't get into any serious trouble. He may be a big looking gent and 
have a serious problem with displaying his below-the-belt equipment, 
but he's truly a stand-up, lovable guy. I hope you are feeling better 
after splitting early on Friday, Rob, and I hope you made it home 
safely back to Oxford (home of Ride, don'tcha know!)  Heh heh. Sorry. 
Enjoy the Ramones shirt, you big girly blouse.

** Mike Coles & His Lovely Family ** -- Another big round of cheers to 
Mike and his wonderful (and patient) wife, Lyrico and their 
incomparably beautiful children (luckily for Mike, like my own 
daughter, they take after the Mother). Not only did the Coles's add a 
dash of clout, but their honed-from-parenting good natures compelled 
them to look after me when I decided to happily part with all semblance 
of coherent reason (via many pints of Grolsch) and beer-handling 
coordination. Mike was also nice enough to invite Andy Misera and 
myself out to the fabled Malicious Towers in Kilburn on Saturday, 
treating us to a rare glimpse inside the proverbial MD vault. And I now 
know why it's called "the Skylight Zone". He also treated Andy & myself 
to several selections from the forthcoming CLOCK MACHINE compilation, 
and lemme just say, biases aside, THIS DISC ROCKS! There is some 
*TRULY* inspired music thereupon, and if some of those tracks aren't 
ripe for becoming genuine, radio-friendly hits, than I've got dog semen 
in my ears.

** Andy Misera ** -- Our beloved List-Meister was good enough to guide 
me around London on Saturday, visiting not only the Coles' place, but 
several shopping locales and more coffee bars, comic shops, posh 
boutiques, chip shops and pubs than you can shake a a pointy stick at.

** Graham/Woody2Shooz**  -- The ageless Graham was a gent enough to 
supply with tickets for both nights and refused to accept any semblance 
of payment (did I ever get you anything CLOSE to your weight in lager?)

** Stephane the Frenchman** --  Quite unsolicitedly bestowed on me some 
richly undeserved goodies like a signed (by all four) poster of the 
gigs. We may like shouting "BASTARD" at you, Frenchman, but you're a 
hecka-swell gent.

** Bob Barathy ** -- For being a smashing gent for looking after the 
poster alluded to just above (which he will hopefully send to me at 
some point and not use it to wrap rancid fish with, though I'm sure 
Mike Coles could live with that).

** Nichola Wood & Wilfull Dave** -- Neither of whom are on the list, 
but who very nicely rescued me from wandering off into the desolate, 
pitch black of the Shepherd Bush night, bundling me into cab where I 
was forced to discuss the merits of Las Vegas with an 
overly-enthusiastic cab driver.

** Jel ** -- For serving as both a massively good dude, a big fuckoff 
giant who probably scared off loads of Yankaphobes who'd have gladly 
pounded my head in, and as an excellent step-ladder to up above the 
fray of the "knitting circle".

Beyond that, what can I say? I met so many nice folks like Rob, Dave (I 
met about eight Daves, so let that one citation serve them all), 
Idolatry, Marnyk from Brussels, Brian, Jel's big pal Cliff, Jon 
Chapman, Mark Saxton (who was always in the men's room....worryingly), 
Mel, THE INFAMOUS PETER WEST (who's actually an unfailingly nice, 
smiley guy), Rob Martin, iPat, Horbag, Lisa Gannon, Leigh & his friend 
Jane, Marc Phillips and Sarah (who I never found again after the 
Goldhawk), Christophe (again), Dirk (again), Antoni (again), the 
hilarious Neil Perry, Tom the Canadian (not on the list?), PAUL (DUB) 
from Dublin, Jamie, Mick Head, MIK RAVEN (again), Jane & Ian, Juliet 
Pleming,...

...I'm sure I'm forgetting someone, so HUGE APOLOGIES if so. In case 
you didn't notice, I was a bit on the inebriated side quite a lot of 
the time.

Anyway, herewith the pics. Do enjoy:

THURSDAY:
http://homepage.mac.com/alexinnyc/2005/PhotoAlbum119.html

FRIDAY:
http://homepage.mac.com/alexinnyc/2005/PhotoAlbum120.html

Cheers again,

Alex in NYC....happy to be home.