Saturday 26th July 2003 - Baltimore MD
On the road to Baltimore... it sounds like and old Crosby/Hope movie. To some extents, it was too.
First of all there it's the hometown of Hannibal Lecter and, secondly, there was Jeff's creepy finger.
I tell you, it just ain't natural!
First of all there it's the hometown of Hannibal Lecter and, secondly, there was Jeff's creepy finger.
I tell you, it just ain't natural!
Collection Point
Now, you remember I said that I'd travelled out a day earlier?
Well, now we had to pick up the rest of the band, plus Kev, who would be sorting out merchandise at the gigs. So we headed off to the airport to pick them up and surprisingly, when we got there, they were all stood outside the terminal, waiting.
You could have knocked me down with a feather. Well, you probably couldn't but, you know what I mean. I was actually amazed that they'd even managed to get there! I'd been convinced that they were just too incompetent to manage transatlantic travel!
As, I said, it was a shock to see them standing there. Besides the fact that they'd actually made it, they are all so hideously ugly, as these pictures show and I hadn't seen them since HITS at Morecambe. I was physically repulsed to see their hideous visages and that's no word of a lie.
Well, now we had to pick up the rest of the band, plus Kev, who would be sorting out merchandise at the gigs. So we headed off to the airport to pick them up and surprisingly, when we got there, they were all stood outside the terminal, waiting.
You could have knocked me down with a feather. Well, you probably couldn't but, you know what I mean. I was actually amazed that they'd even managed to get there! I'd been convinced that they were just too incompetent to manage transatlantic travel!
As, I said, it was a shock to see them standing there. Besides the fact that they'd actually made it, they are all so hideously ugly, as these pictures show and I hadn't seen them since HITS at Morecambe. I was physically repulsed to see their hideous visages and that's no word of a lie.
I-95
Beer had been purchased to slake their thirsts after the flight but, as everyone knows, it is illegal in the USA to have open alcoholic beverages in a moving vehicle, so no-one drank anything other than water.
It has to be said that the journey to Belt-the-whore is not one of the most riveting that I have ever tried. It's all freeway, tollbooths and not much else really.
You essentially take I-95 south, through New Jersey, past Philadelphia, through Delaware and end up in Maryland. It's a bit like going to Swindon, only there's no 'Magic Roundabout' when you get there.
What you have is actually a demented British Isles. There all these place names that you recognise, just not in that order. For example, Reading is near York and Lancaster, Manchester is near Aberdeen; you half expect to see witches been burned at the stake any minute.
Baltimore has recently lost the title of murder capital of the USA to Dallas. Baltimore natives are not happy about it.
The photo, by the way, is Ray Lewis's house. That is to say, the home of the Baltimore Ravens football team. They used to be the Browns, who came from Cleveland. Baltimore used to be the home of the Colts, but they moved to Indianapolis. Cleveland's current football team is called the Browns. In their heyday, they were managed by the legendary Paul Brown and had a running back called Jim Brown, considered one of the greatest players ever to don pads and a helmet. The team was named after neither man. Paul Brown left the Browns to found the Cincinnati Bengals.
It has to be said that the journey to Belt-the-whore is not one of the most riveting that I have ever tried. It's all freeway, tollbooths and not much else really.
You essentially take I-95 south, through New Jersey, past Philadelphia, through Delaware and end up in Maryland. It's a bit like going to Swindon, only there's no 'Magic Roundabout' when you get there.
What you have is actually a demented British Isles. There all these place names that you recognise, just not in that order. For example, Reading is near York and Lancaster, Manchester is near Aberdeen; you half expect to see witches been burned at the stake any minute.
Baltimore has recently lost the title of murder capital of the USA to Dallas. Baltimore natives are not happy about it.
The photo, by the way, is Ray Lewis's house. That is to say, the home of the Baltimore Ravens football team. They used to be the Browns, who came from Cleveland. Baltimore used to be the home of the Colts, but they moved to Indianapolis. Cleveland's current football team is called the Browns. In their heyday, they were managed by the legendary Paul Brown and had a running back called Jim Brown, considered one of the greatest players ever to don pads and a helmet. The team was named after neither man. Paul Brown left the Browns to found the Cincinnati Bengals.
The Sidebar
The Sidebar is a nice little club, just a short stroll from the town's red-light district. The crowd, whilst not excessive, was enthusiastic and, with the exception of one asshole dreadlocked asshole, who was too smashed to stand up let alone dance, was into the music.
Our little dreadlocked friend managed to piss everyone off to such an extent that he eventually got dragged outside and dumped on the sidewalk, losing his pants in the process!
Our little dreadlocked friend managed to piss everyone off to such an extent that he eventually got dragged outside and dumped on the sidewalk, losing his pants in the process!
Natty Bo
One word of warning to anyone who feels the urge to venture anywhere near Baltimore.
The local beer is a brew called National Bohemian, or Natty Bo. Drinking it is an experience that you won't forget in a hurry, largely because it is so weak that you have to drink gallons of it just to feel tipsy, which of course makes you pee like a racehorse and, most probably, projectile vomit...
Don't say you weren't warned!
The local beer is a brew called National Bohemian, or Natty Bo. Drinking it is an experience that you won't forget in a hurry, largely because it is so weak that you have to drink gallons of it just to feel tipsy, which of course makes you pee like a racehorse and, most probably, projectile vomit...
Don't say you weren't warned!
The Marble Dildo Caper
Now then, Jeff says, we're going to stay with a friend of mine, Chris. He's a great guy and we'll have a party. There's just one thing... the first person to fall asleep ends up getting their picture taken with a huge marble dildo in their mouth. Who would be the first one to fall asleep?
Chris had come up to me in the Sidebar and asked me if I thought the two bottles of bourbon he had at home would be enough? Sure, I replied. As long as there's beer; they're all beer drinkers anyway. We stopped and bought beer, the first of many such occasions during the next couple of weeks.
As the night wore on, there was much imbibing and some good-natured horseplay, which I wasn't involved in, of course, being the perfect English gentleman that I am. I behaved impeccably and sat quietly, chatting and having the odd sip of bourbon to stave off dehydration, you understand.
At some point during the night, Kev being the animal that he is, hit his head on someone's elbow and his eye started to swell immediately. Very careless, yet very funny to everyone except Kev. Some of the weaker members of our party drifted off and fell asleep, escaping the marble dildo only on the grounds that Chris couldn't find it, leaving those of us with staying power to drink Chris completely dry. This was our first night, our first party and we had drunk our host out of alcohol by around 6AM - even the stuff he'd hidden at the back of the fridge for emergencies.
As we prepared to crash out about 8AM, on sofas, floors or wherever we fell down, we realised Ush was nowhere to be seen. After a brief recce, not really caring if we found him or not, we discovered the snoring sack of shit, out back, asleep on the deck. What a waster!
Chris had come up to me in the Sidebar and asked me if I thought the two bottles of bourbon he had at home would be enough? Sure, I replied. As long as there's beer; they're all beer drinkers anyway. We stopped and bought beer, the first of many such occasions during the next couple of weeks.
As the night wore on, there was much imbibing and some good-natured horseplay, which I wasn't involved in, of course, being the perfect English gentleman that I am. I behaved impeccably and sat quietly, chatting and having the odd sip of bourbon to stave off dehydration, you understand.
At some point during the night, Kev being the animal that he is, hit his head on someone's elbow and his eye started to swell immediately. Very careless, yet very funny to everyone except Kev. Some of the weaker members of our party drifted off and fell asleep, escaping the marble dildo only on the grounds that Chris couldn't find it, leaving those of us with staying power to drink Chris completely dry. This was our first night, our first party and we had drunk our host out of alcohol by around 6AM - even the stuff he'd hidden at the back of the fridge for emergencies.
As we prepared to crash out about 8AM, on sofas, floors or wherever we fell down, we realised Ush was nowhere to be seen. After a brief recce, not really caring if we found him or not, we discovered the snoring sack of shit, out back, asleep on the deck. What a waster!
The Morning After
I awoke after a couple of hours kip and found Jeff cooking up some very tasty breakfast-type comestibles for us. He was frying eggs, cooking mince, chopping salad, slicing potatoes to make fresh crisps... a most excellent start to the day. Boy, did it taste good too!
We said our farewells, swapped email addresses and bid Chris, Tara and Jackie good-bye and hit the highway, New York-bound. We'd have certainly have to stop for beer on the way ...
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We said our farewells, swapped email addresses and bid Chris, Tara and Jackie good-bye and hit the highway, New York-bound. We'd have certainly have to stop for beer on the way ...
Click here for the next bit