Sunday 8th September 2002 - Asbury Park NJ
The morning after the night before. the room looked like shit. The carpet was still wet from the ice bucket contents, which had by now soaked through nicely and were giving off a funky aroma. Moreover, huge patches of fag-ash-black stained the pink pile where attempts had been made to clean up. Unfortunately, mixing cigarette ash with water had just made charcoal and the floor was now resembling some drunken, abstract, art gallery exhibit - or a huge mess, depending on your point of view. I was optimistic: it would clean up nicely once it had dried out, I felt.The room smelled predominantly of whisky, due to Chig’s bed being liberally soaked in it the but a few hours earlier.
I grabbed a shower and felt almost human again.
I grabbed a shower and felt almost human again.
A Knock At The Door
There was a knock at the door. Fish had regained consciousness and looked quite well considering his state of intoxication the night before. Of course, he explained, he had got so “tired” due to lack of food the day before. Actually, I retorted, it was, more likely, due to the four double Jack Daniels he had shoved down his neck, one after the other, minutes after going off stage. Fish was adamant that had he eaten, he would have been OK. Yeah and Elvis was just big-boned. We agreed to disagree. He hadn’t choked on his vomit, or anyone else’s for that matter, during the night.Due to his eight hours of sleep to everyone else’s four, Fish was actually quite chipper and amused himself by going and sitting in Chig’s mobile home suitcase and throwing his underwear all over the room. Then he discovered shaving foam, which he obviously figured Chig had brought along specifically for the purpose of spraying all around the room. The most disgusting part of all this was when he stuck a pair of Chig’s grunts to the wall with hair gel. It actually looked far worse than it was.
Then, just as quickly as he’d arrived, he goose-stepped back to his own room. All of the time that this had been going on, Gash had sat in the middle of it, detached, aloof and above it all, an all-knowing smile on his face. After all, to Gash, this was child’s play. He had photos of himself with his arm around a flyblown, A-rab corpse he found in the Gulf, during Desert Storm.
Then, just as quickly as he’d arrived, he goose-stepped back to his own room. All of the time that this had been going on, Gash had sat in the middle of it, detached, aloof and above it all, an all-knowing smile on his face. After all, to Gash, this was child’s play. He had photos of himself with his arm around a flyblown, A-rab corpse he found in the Gulf, during Desert Storm.
Tossers
Chig, now trying to regain his underwear from light-fittings, mirrors, the TV and everywhere else his clothes had landed, accepted the challenge and ran after Fish and began to dismantle his room as an act of revenge. I may have been in the vicinity at the time too. As I remember, we overturned his bed and anything else we could find, leaving the room looking like it had been hit by a bomb. I am completely happy that we followed the correct protocols and escalated hostilities in line with the rules of engagement. In other words, you toss my clothes around the room, I destroy yours. It seemed fair and logical at the time. Although, I must confess, the cracking sound when we tossed Fish’s bed did give me a twinge of guilt for a fraction of a second.
Revenge served, we decided to go and explore Asbury Park, grab some food and then make our way to The Stone Pony and hang out at the festival for the day. A day of chilling and hanging out.
Man, it was hotter than Hell out. Bright azure skies, a furious ball of fire in the sky, little shade and it was so bright. It was like being in some 50’s sci-fi movie: you know the ones; the earth is being burned up by some freak cosmic anomaly. If I had had an egg in my pocket, not only would I have been considered weird, but I reckon I could have fried it, right there on the sidewalk (that’s pavement to you Limeys!) But, I didn’t have an egg. Firstly, I am not in the habit of walking around with a pocket full of henfruit and secondly, I didn’t know of anywhere to buy one. Enough with the cackleberries already!
Revenge served, we decided to go and explore Asbury Park, grab some food and then make our way to The Stone Pony and hang out at the festival for the day. A day of chilling and hanging out.
Man, it was hotter than Hell out. Bright azure skies, a furious ball of fire in the sky, little shade and it was so bright. It was like being in some 50’s sci-fi movie: you know the ones; the earth is being burned up by some freak cosmic anomaly. If I had had an egg in my pocket, not only would I have been considered weird, but I reckon I could have fried it, right there on the sidewalk (that’s pavement to you Limeys!) But, I didn’t have an egg. Firstly, I am not in the habit of walking around with a pocket full of henfruit and secondly, I didn’t know of anywhere to buy one. Enough with the cackleberries already!
The Skeptix
We strolled across the street towards the sea. This was really our first good look at Asbury Park. We had had a transient view of the city on the drive in, but now we could look at our leisure and take in what we saw.
To be honest, it is difficult to know what to make of it. On the one hand you have some awesome examples of art deco / art moderne buildings, some beautifully preserved, some which could do with a little TLC. On the other hand you have husks of buildings that are either half-built, or half falling down (it is difficult to tell which) and others still, which look as though they were half demolished before being abandoned completely.
In some ways Asbury Park is still beautiful. It was once, obviously, a stunning town, full of life and activity, but it looks as though it was deserted quickly and as you walk around, it has a post-apocalyptic feel to it. I felt like Charlton Heston in The Omega Man, half-expecting some pallid, vampire-C.H.U.D. types to be keeping an eye on me from within the boarded up shops and derelict buildings. Yeah, that’s it, they’re just waiting for darkness to descend so that they can pounce on me, suck my blood, eat my flesh, and feast on my tender sweetmeats whilst I’m still alive. It’s gangs of Jolsoned-up Morlocks roaming the streets looking for innocent victims to slake their bloodlust. That’s why the dead punk had a knife in his throat. It was to open up a vein so they could drink his blood straight from the carotid artery!
So, maybe I have a vivid imagination…but you don’t see people on the streets during the day, not locals, just out-of-towners. Go on, prove me wrong! Prove to me that Asbury Park is not full of cannibalistic, blood-sucking, creatures of the night. See, you can’t, can you? I rest my case.
To be honest, it is difficult to know what to make of it. On the one hand you have some awesome examples of art deco / art moderne buildings, some beautifully preserved, some which could do with a little TLC. On the other hand you have husks of buildings that are either half-built, or half falling down (it is difficult to tell which) and others still, which look as though they were half demolished before being abandoned completely.
In some ways Asbury Park is still beautiful. It was once, obviously, a stunning town, full of life and activity, but it looks as though it was deserted quickly and as you walk around, it has a post-apocalyptic feel to it. I felt like Charlton Heston in The Omega Man, half-expecting some pallid, vampire-C.H.U.D. types to be keeping an eye on me from within the boarded up shops and derelict buildings. Yeah, that’s it, they’re just waiting for darkness to descend so that they can pounce on me, suck my blood, eat my flesh, and feast on my tender sweetmeats whilst I’m still alive. It’s gangs of Jolsoned-up Morlocks roaming the streets looking for innocent victims to slake their bloodlust. That’s why the dead punk had a knife in his throat. It was to open up a vein so they could drink his blood straight from the carotid artery!
So, maybe I have a vivid imagination…but you don’t see people on the streets during the day, not locals, just out-of-towners. Go on, prove me wrong! Prove to me that Asbury Park is not full of cannibalistic, blood-sucking, creatures of the night. See, you can’t, can you? I rest my case.
Back To The Boardwalk
Back to the Asbury Park Boardwalk. This is a marvellous promenade, there’s no doubt about it. At one end stands the stunningly beautiful Paramount Theatre and Convention Hall, at the other, the derelict Casino. In between are mostly empty, shuttered or boarded-up shop units, daubed in graffiti. The only apparent life on the Boardwalk is to be found at the Howard Johnson’s Ice Cream Parlor, at the North end, just by the Paramount. Its’ wonderfully quirky rocket-ship architecture dates, I was told by one of staff, from 1959 and it shows all the hallmarks of 50’s design, for sure, looking like something out of The Jetsons.
We ventured into Howard Johnson’s Ice Cream Parlor. Basically, we didn’t have a great deal of choice. It was the only building on the Boardwalk showing any signs of life. We were hungry, goddamnit! We hadn’t eaten since our visit to The Lunch Box the previous morning.
Unfortunately, for us, it was too early for food. The Skeptix drank beer. I thought it was probably best to not drink beer before the sun was over the yardarm and I had coffee. Eventually, after several beers, we ventured forth in search of comestibles and came upon a small shop, which had food for sale. We snarfed down some hotdogs before hitting the last day of HITS USA.
We ventured into Howard Johnson’s Ice Cream Parlor. Basically, we didn’t have a great deal of choice. It was the only building on the Boardwalk showing any signs of life. We were hungry, goddamnit! We hadn’t eaten since our visit to The Lunch Box the previous morning.
Unfortunately, for us, it was too early for food. The Skeptix drank beer. I thought it was probably best to not drink beer before the sun was over the yardarm and I had coffee. Eventually, after several beers, we ventured forth in search of comestibles and came upon a small shop, which had food for sale. We snarfed down some hotdogs before hitting the last day of HITS USA.
