Fillmore Miami Beach at the Jackie Gleason Theater, Miami, FL

I woke up at 8:00am today as Jim, Teddy & myself planned to leave Clearwater at around 8:30am. It was hard waking up. I went to sleep late last night, as my mind was racing with so many thoughts. I was trying to digest the fact that in about 24 hours this entire tour will be over. Not an easy thing to do, considering the fact that this tour was a huge part of my life for more than a month now.

But I did manage to wake up on time. Quickly packed my belongings and left the motel. Jim & Teddy were already there. Loaded my backpack, went inside quickly to drop the key‐card and within a minute we were on our way.

The first stop was this coffee / breakfast place. I can’t recall the name of the place, however it was rather impressive—only formally opened last week. Had a turkey sandwich which was good, as well as a latte. We knew that there was a long day of driving in front of us (well, in front of Jim; I was half asleep during the most of it) so we didn’t take our time.

The next stop before leaving Clearwater was to drop some stuff in a restaurant where Jim & Teddy’s son is working. Took us some time to find the place; dropped the stuff there and left within 3 minutes, this time heading directly to Miami Beach.

The way from Clearwater to Miami Beach is very pretty and interesting at the beginning of the drive. You get to see a lot of ocean, lots of green, lots of blue and, sometimes, you even get to see little islands close to the shore, something like the Thousands Islands Parkway in Ontario but with much less than 1,800 islands in them. Still a very pretty sight.

You also get to see and drive through the Sunshine Skyway, which is, according to Wikipedia, “the world’s longest bridge with a cable‐stayed main span”.

The closer you get to the interior, the prettiness disappears and you get to see those boring highway views, which really don’t amount to much. I was half asleep during this part.

We stopped for lunch in the small town of Labelle, in a place called Flora & Ella’s. This restaurant turned out to be a Labelle landmark, offering a very simple menu, very good value for what you pay. I had some beans on rice, a serving of friend apples and a pecan pie for desert.

Just outside of Miami, we felt a little thirsty so we pulled over by Burger King to buy a drink. Teddy has prepared me to the forthcoming—that I will probably be approached in Spanish rather than English, due to my middle‐eastern appearance. She was right. I got a diet coke, couldn’t find a lid for the small cup. One of the workers there insisted to help me in Spanish, even though I told her (in English) that I can neither understand nor speak Spanish.

Traffic into Miami Beach wasn’t that bad. It was about 3:30pm, and there seemed to be lots of traffic at the other direction—getting out of Miami. We quickly found the National Hotel, my target.

I bid Jim & Teddy farewell, and thanked them for the ride. It was great getting to know them. We agreed to chat more at the venue.

National Hotel was my target for the mere fact that it was also Jeroen’s target. This is Jeroen’s last stop before he ends his USA trip and goes back to The Netherlands on Saturday. Jeroen invited me to stay as a guest in his hotel room.

Jeroen was out, but he was responsible enough to add my name as a guest for the hotel room so I quickly got my key from the front desk and went upstairs.

So this hotel is a 4‐star hotel, offering excellent service and fantastic rooms. Jeroen, being himself, simply had to go for a room with perfect ocean view. The view from the hotel room is amazing:

Checked some emails, and then Jeroen showed up. Was great seeing him again. We decided to go for an early dinner before we hit the show.

So we went to 1700 James Avenue, where the Casa Tua, recommended by Richard, is located. After about 5 minutes of wandering around the place it turned out to be closed. We went to Lincoln Road, which appears to be “the” place to be in while in Miami Beach, and walked towards a restaurant called “Sibille”, serving Italian food. Jeroen had dinner there before and recommended it.

Walking through Lincoln Road you see the same Miami Beach you see on the movies. Shirts are optional here, for both men and women; girls competing between themselves on who walks with the least amount of clothes on without being arrested; this is “fun town” here.

The restaurant offers a “happy hour” that actually lasts three hours—4:00pm to 7:00pm—during which you can choose to either pay half price for the food, or get two drinks for the price of one. We chose the former.

The menu was very interesting. It took us some time to decide what we want. The waiter appeared to have completely forgotten about us. We waited for about 20 minutes until the guy acknowledged our existence and came by. We quickly placed an order and continued chatting, filling each other in with what’s been going on since we last saw each other on Sunday morning.

The food, I have to say, was delicious. I had a Caesar Salad for a start, then veal‐filled Ravioli with mushroom sauce. Not a huge plate, but a great value for the money you pay (during happy hour, of course). We shared a Dulce de Leche crepe—I had to explain to Jeroen what Dulce de Leche means. Apparently this wonderful thing is not very common in the Netherlands.

After dinner we went back to the hotel, changed and off we went to the venue, a sheer distance of one block away, for the last show in the tour.

Doors were supposed to open at 7:00pm. They let us in on 7:10pm, and we had to kill some more time until they opened the hall’s doors.

My seat was in the pit, front row, one seat to the right of the absolute center. Great way to finish the tour.

Slightly before Jesca’s show, John McCusker approached me as I was sitting, and we had a little chat. I thanked him for the tour, he thanked me for being there. I told him that it blows my mind how he constantly finds new ways to expand his Marbletown work which I absolutely love.

Realizing that I will not have the chance to bid the band farewell, I asked John to say goodbye to everyone for me, which he promised to do.

Great guy.

Jesca’s show started at 8:00pm. Her show today was very good—her best show in the entire tour, in my opinion. Jesca and I agreed before to meet for a short chat before the tour ends; at the end of her show, I called her name but apparently she couldn’t hear me. I looked for her in the lobby, she wasn’t there.

Too bad.

Paul showed up on the stage a few minutes before the show started. Danny showed up as well, behind the drum kit. Paul read his usual announcement from paper, and as he said “however”, Danny rolled the drums, much to Paul’s amusement. Danny then stroke the cymbal as Paul said “personally removed from the venue”.

Funny.

Countdown continues. It’s not easy to explain what went through my head in those seconds. It may appear as complete nonsense to you guys, but put yourselves in my shoes for a second. Imagine that you’re following the band for 37 days, watching 31 shows. The tour is a huge part of your life during those 37 days. What do you feel like when you realize that it is soon going to be over?

The countdown ended as the band captured the stage on 9:00pm and gave one of its best shows so far, if not the best one of them. The band appeared very eager to play this last concert, and they did it very well. It was the shining moment (well, two hours) of each and every one of them. Everything in this concert went smooth, and the sound was great. We got great guitar solos, especially the one in Song for Sonny Liston. Marbletown was great as usual, with John going even further with his great violin work.

The band played the usual set list. As the tour is over, here is the set list for the entire North American tour:

1. Cannibals
2. Why Aye Man
3. What It Is
4. Sailing to Philadelphia
5. True Love Will Never Fade
6. The Fish and the Bird
7. Hill Farmer’s Blues
8. Romeo and Juliet
9. Sultans of Swing
10. Song for Sonny Liston
11. Done with Bonaparte (only performed during the first concert, in Red Rocks Amphitheater)
12. Marbletown
13. Speedway in Nazareth
14. Telegraph Road

Encore:

1. Brothers in Arms
2. Shangri La (only performed in very few concerts)
3. So Far Away
4. Going Home (theme from Local Hero)

The crowd cheered a lot today. The atmosphere was very similar to the Las Vegas shows—not surprising, considering that both Miami Beach and Las Vegas are resort‐type places that people go to in order to have fun and let everything go, rather than restrain themselves. So we had the customary drunk fellow sitting two seats to my right, who, together with his wife, talked quite a bit during the show and made all kind of noises, until being threatened by a rather threatening‐looking Italian guy who was sitting right beside them.

At the end of the show, we all gave great cheers to what I would consider the best musicians’ make‐up in the world. I have to admit that it was a very hard moment for me.

Then I suddenly realized that Guy and Danny are marching towards me, reaching their hands. For a moment I was under the impression they were going to pull me onto the stage (it really looked like it; Jeroen thought so as well), which freaked me out to an incomprehensible end, however it turned out that they came to shake my hand and bid me farewell. That was very sweet. I thanked them dearly for everything. Then came Richard; I shook his hand and thanked him as well.

Then they all disappeared from the stage, leaving a huge crowd very happy. All except one guy, 30 years old, born some 10,000km away and lives 2,500km away from Miami Beach, who was very sad to see this end.

The tour is over, and so is my blog. Well, almost. There is one more post to be published. I need to get my thoughts together first; the last post will be published soon, perhaps even today.

Isaac

Ruth Eckerd Hall, Clearwater, FL

The hunt for food had to be short as it was done in the rain. I ended up having a Burrito at “Chipotle”, about two minutes walk from the motel. Very good value—you get a tasty Burrito and a drink for less than $7.

There appears to be nothing much to do in Clearwater. Tampa is the “business district” of the entire Tampa‐St. Petersburg‐Clearwater area (also called “Tampa Bay”), whereas Clearwater is more of a retirement place. One of those places that are responsible for Florida being dubbed “God’s Waiting Room”.

Jim and his wife Teddy showed up at my motel on 7:00pm. They live in southern Florida; Jim decided to surprise his wife and got them tickets for the two last shows in the tour—a surprise that Teddy welcomed very heartily.

The venue is very close to the motel—less than 2 miles driving distance. We got there at about 7:15pm, 45 minutes before the show starts. I wandered around the venue—a rather small one, but well‐marked and convenient. It should be noted that the ticket for this show was the most expensive ticket in the entire tour—all tickets, of all classes, of all other venues, cost less than the ticket I got: row A, seat 8—one seat left of the absolute center.

To the right of me was sitting a guy named Michael from Rhode Island. He mentioned that he was aware of my blog. He was going to introduce himself at the Boston show, however I was at the Meet & Greet so it never materialized. Very nice guy.

To the left of me, there was a couple, about 55–60 years old. The woman mentioned to me that she’s been waiting 30 years to see Mark perform live; judging by how much she was talking to her husband, perhaps a wait of another 30 years would be in place.

My 70L backpack has a detachable compartment that can be used as a general‐purpose bag that wraps diagonally around your shoulder and chest. I use it instead of putting things in my pockets, which I hate. Apparently, the sight of this bag caught the eye of one of the ushers. He must have been developing some horror screenplay in his head, regarding what I have in my bag, so he called one of the security guys. A huge man approached me and asked to inspect the bag’s contents. That reminded me of my days back in Israel when they check your belongings and scan your body for metals every time you enter a public place.

Jesca caught the stage at 8:00pm and played her usual set. As she started playing “Seed of Wonder”, she mentioned that she’s been on the road for so long. Then, out of the blue, she said something along the line of “there’s another person here who’s been on the road for a long time… his name is Isaac, and he’s sitting right there” and pointed at me. “He’s been to each and every show this tour, and I bet he can’t wait for it to be over so he can go home already”.

By the time I finished computing this unexpected occurrence, my moment of glory was over. I sent Jesca a kiss in the air. Maybe she got it.

Thanks Jesca. :-)

Then came the customary 30 minutes break, during which I did nothing that is worth telling the world about—just chilling in my chair and enjoying the view of the stage that was less than one meter away.

The Seven Wonders caught the stage at 9:00pm, and received some warm cheers. I think that, for the first time this tour, most of the crowd was at Mark’s age or older. It was great seeing seniors cheer like that.

I was told, before the concert (I’m not sure if it was Michael who told me that, or was it Jim) that the Ruth Eckerd Hall has great acoustics. It turned out to be true: the sound at the venue was very impressive. Surprisingly, it wasn’t loud at all, even from the front row. It was just at the right volume, you get net sound, no noise.

The crowd was more of the quiet type (cheer‐wise; some people, even in the front row, insisted on talking during the show which pissed me, and others, off to some invisible end). I could see some people slightly moving their heads during the show, following the tunes. Sucks to be them, as I was rocking my head like a fix‐craving drug‐addict all throughout the show. I received some bizarre looks from some elderly folks, but hey, who cares.

The band gave yet another fantastic show, with the same set as last night (and most other shows).

Before playing Song for Sonny Liston, Mark asked the crowd something along the line of “So, this is… what? Clearwater?” and smiled, as if he couldn’t believe he’s playing in such a small city. He then went on to ask, “what should I call it here? Clearwater, Tampa, what?”

Someone from the audience suggested “Knopflerville”, but I don’t think that Mark heard that. I wanted to suggest “God’s Waiting Room‐ville”, but kept my mouth shut.

After playing “Song for Sonny Liston”, Mark told of another fun fact he learned while reading about Sonny Liston. Something about a quote from another boxer, who happened to break Sonny Liston’s jaw before and then got hit by Sonny “harder than any man has the right to be hit”. Then some dialog started to figure out the identity of that boxer. I don’t recall what the conclusion was. I looked it up over the Internet and found a reference to Marty Marshall; but I think Mark reached a different conclusion.

Mark appeared to have played somewhat slower tonight. Some of the solos were slow, or at least started slow—Telegraph Road being a good example. He also improvised something I never heard before during the Song for Sonny Liston solo (before the last verse). John McCusker took his Marbletown part even one step further—I think that his violin part today was a bit longer than usual (may be my imagination only). Anyway, he played a part of it completely differently than before, looking at Mark while doing it, and receiving back a hearty smile from Mark, as if saying “you think you’re a big boy now, don’t you”.

Great show. At the end we all stood up and gave thanks to these wonderful musicians. While exiting the venue, I heard one of the security guards saying that he has never seen such a rushed escape by a band from the venue. Apparently, the band left the venue very quickly, as if they were in a hurry somewhere.

Short drive back to the motel, when Jim, Teddy and I made plans for tomorrow. We’re going to leave my motel at 8:30am, so we get to Miami before rush hour.

1:23am now. The night before the last show.

It is going to end after tomorrow.

I am sad.

Later,
Isaac

Leaving to Clearwater

Woke up this morning at 8:00am. I decided to take the shuttle bus from the hotel to the airport, which arrives twice hourly; my flight was scheduled to depart on 11:30am, and I decided that better safe than sorry.

As I awoke, Bruce was already up. We shared a few more laughs, very quietly so we don’t wake Kami up. I quickly packed my belongings and was set to go. Bruce suggested that he goes downstairs while I’m packing so he can bring us all coffee—a suggestion that I welcomed very heartily.

Time passed by quickly and on 8:35am I had to bid Kami and Bruce farewell. It was great to get to know them and spend time with them—we were like family during the last three days. I hope that they enjoyed their time with me just as much as I enjoyed mine with them.

Kami & Bruce—thanks again for everything! Keep the laughter going, we’ll meet again soon!

The shuttle arrived exactly on time (8:40am) and by 9:30am I was already at the airport. The Hartsfield International Airport in Atlanta is, how to say it gently, f*****g huge. It’s very well‐marked as well—you can’t get lost, and there are many restaurants and shops. The self‐check‐in thing worked flawlessly. I went to drop off my baggage. Since it’s a backpack with many strings and straps on it, I usually get some sort of a bug nylon bag to wrap it with; Delta, however, wants $5 for the “service” (they give you the bag, and you have to do everything yourself). I passed. Screw you, guys.

Checked my backpack in and off I went looking for some place to eat. I was hungry so I decided to not be too picky, however I came across that restaurant that has a breakfast buffet. Apparently, at breakfast time, an “all you can eat” buffet is all they really have. Food was tasty, the service was absolutely horrific. The way it works is, that you pay $9 for the buffet, and pay separately for drinks. The waitress came by to ask me what I want to drink. I said “water”, and before I knew it she fled the scene, and came back with the water some 20 minutes later. I wanted to ask her a question, but she just turned away and left as I said “excuse me”.

Gee.

Breakfast was good.

I decided to get security clearance over with, so I passed through security and went to the gate. I had about an hour to kill before the flight, so I spent it all writing the previous blog entry.

Flight left without delays. I was seated at the front row, right at the emergency exit, which meant lots of leg room and that I’m the first one leaving the aircraft upon landing. The guy next to me showed me, on his iPhone, some news article about a Delta flight that left from L.A to Atlanta earlier today. It turned out that a flight attendant found a dead woman in the lavatory. We were wondering to ourselves if that’s the same aircraft. We asked the attendants, but didn’t get a clear response. Therefore, both myself and the guy next to me decided to refrain from using the lavatories.

My backpack was one of the first items dropped on the baggage claim belt. Went outside. It was raining mayhem so I decided to take the easy way to Motel 6 in Clearwater—paid $23 for a shuttle bus.

The shuttle bus’ driver was rather grumpy. Above his seat there was a sticker saying:

“GRATUITY NOT INCLUDED”

Take a hike, Superman.

Arrived at Motel 6 about an hour after boarding the shuttle. It was supposed to be a 20 minutes drive but weather was a killer. Upon checking in, I was notified that there’s no electricity in the motel at all, due to the weather conditions. About an hour later, electricity service was restored.

It’s 4:20pm now. Jim, who has been reading my blog and suggested that we go to the concert together, is supposed to pick me up in about two hours and we’ll head to the Ruth Eckerd Hall for the 30th concert this tour.

I’m pretty hungry now… off to hunt for food.

Later,
Isaac

Chastain Park Amphitheater, Atlanta, GA

Kami, Bruce and myself left Kami’s house in Middlesboro, KY at around 11:00am, after having a quick pancake breakfast (thanks Bruce). Bruce and I talked for about 30 minutes about what’s missing in America (in every aspect of life) and how to fix. Very interesting discussion.

The weather was warm and sunny; a perfect morning for sitting outside on the deck, having coffee and sharing some laughs—which we didn’t do. We decided to hit the road to Atlanta, get there early, check into the hotel (Hyatt Regency—Downtown) so we have plenty of time to hang out before the show.

Before we left, I took some pictures of the house we were staying in:

After about an hour of driving, we all experienced moderate hunger—not surprising as sugary breakfast is known to have this effect on people. As we didn’t want to sit down in a full‐blown restaurant, we decided on some fast food. I suggested Hardee’s, Bruce said that he had some bad experience with Hardee’s in the past so we ended up in Wendy’s.

A few minutes of interfacing with uni‐tasking humans and we got our meals. We didn’t really take our time with this food as there’s nothing there to be craved for and enjoy. Within ten minutes we fled the scene, not before driving through Starbucks for some tasty beverage. It turned out that Kami collects Starbucks mugs, so we parked the car and went into the store. No interesting mugs so we left.

As we were driving towards Atlanta, weather became nastier. Patches of heavy rain and gusty winds, which made poor Kami (who drove so much for two days in a row!) slow down, lengthening our travel time.

The views you get through this ride are very impressive. It’s funny how I never knew that Tennessee has all these mountains, rivers and lakes. I am a nature lover and, had I known about the fantastic views you get here, I would definitely have visited more often.

It seems that Kami, Bruce and myself can’t really go on for more than 10 minutes without coming up with some sick joke that makes us all roll into extreme laughter. They mentioned it’s hard for them to find people with whom they can laugh so hard, about everything—no sacred cows. I felt the same way.

We pulled over to another Starbucks somewhere in Tennessee. I was in an extremely joyful mood. Approaching the counter, I asked Kami if she wants anything, she said no. I turned to the cashier—poor girl, she’ll remember it for years—and asked her if she wants anything.

– “Actually, we get all of this for free…”

– “Oh. I would really like to be your friend, then.”

She laughed.

– “But if it wasn’t all for free, I’d be happy to!”

I gazed at the menu. I know the Starbucks menu by heart already.

– “I don’t know what I want. What do you think I want?”

She stares at me, blue eyes wide open.

– “Well… do you want it hot or cold?”

Gulp.

– “Hot.”

– “So… you want a latte.”

– “Yes, a latte should be good.”

– “What size?”

– “If I had a penny for every time a woman asked me that, I’d be broke.”

It took her about two seconds of looking at me, trying to compute what she has just heard, and then started laughing as if the world is about to cease to exist and everybody must get rid of all of their laughter credits before the universe dissolves.

Some more chit‐chat, mostly about my peculiar accent, and we were all on our way again.

Once we hit Atlanta, it took us about an hour to get into the hotel. Some highway ramps were under construction, the GPS proved to be of no help and we were clueless until we saw the I‐75 “detour” signs and were able to figure it out. We arrived at the first hotel that had “Hyatt” in its name, parked and walked to the check‐in counter (heavy rain outside), only to find out that this is “Hyatt Place” or something, and that the “Hyatt Regency” is one block further.

Kami and Bruce returned to the car. I wanted to check the Internet to see whether or not the show is cancelled (weather was horrible, thunderstorm alerts etc.), so I decided to simply walk one block to our destination. There I am walking in the rain, crossing the longest block in the world, then I arrived at the hotel. Kami and Bruce showed up about 20 minutes later.

The Hyatt Regency in downtown has a very impressive first floor and interesting elevators. There are 22 floors in this hotel. Looking up, it really looked like 22 “Motel 6”’s stacked one on top of another. The room itself also reminded me of a “Motel 6” I stayed in before.

We didn’t have much time to kill so we headed to the venue. The only way for guests to park their cars in this hotel is to use the hotel’s valet service. Kami asked for her car and we waited.

We waited for about 20 minutes until we realized that something is not quite right here. Upon checking, it turns out that the receptionist there completely forgot to post our request with the valet. So altogether we waited about half an hour for our car. Fantastic valet experience.

Call me ignorant, but I really don’t understand the value of the valet service. You basically pay extra money to the hotel, plus a tip to the server (as every human activity in this country is tippable. I wrote what I thought about the tipping industry in one of my previous posts, so I’ll spare you of my rants), just so you don’t have to walk to your car, start it and drive it to the parkade’s entrance. In short, using the valet service saves you some healthy cardiovascular activity, costs you money, and at the end—wastes your time.

Kami & Bruce bought tickets through eBay so it took us some time to find the guy she was supposed to pick up the tickets from. We then went ahead to the venue, where I got my ticket at the Will Call window.

Originally, I wasn’t sure if I am going to make it to the Atlanta show, so I sold the ticket I had through eBay, for about half its face value. It was a good ticket—Orchestra, row H somewhere. Once I decided to make it to all shows, I had to buy another ticket from Ticketmaster, which was in row O somewhere to the left. Really remote. Need binoculars to see the band. A little further and I’d be in the woods.

I walked the venue a bit, said hello to John McCusker and exchanged a few words with Guy Fletcher. His face shined when he saw me—that’s what I thought, until I realize that it wasn’t specific towards me but towards the world, as he spent some time on the beach in Miami.

Kami and Bruce got table tickets. We found each other, and since the row appeared to be very sporadically populated, I stayed there.

A few words about the venue. The Chastain Park Amphitheater is located inside the Chastain Memorial Park. The amphitheater itself, when empty, would look very impressive I’m sure.

The first seating section, closest to the stage, has tables in it. You can buy food at the venue, or bring from outside, and have dinner before—or while—enjoying the show. It is a mess though. I would probably curse the moment I was born had I been seated in one of those tables near the stage, as it looked extremely crowded. I’m not a big fan of having a meal while enjoying the music; also, lots of people—when in groups—tend to talk while they eat and drink, which would impact my enjoyment of the show.

The next section is the “orchestra” section. There are three subsections: left, center and right. Most of the orchestra rows have regular seats in them—these rows are very spacious and whoever gets to sit there can fully stretch his legs. Some of the orchestra rows, however, have tables in them. Moving along those rows can be very tricky as they are very crowded.

Even before the main event started (I missed Jesca’s show. Long story I won’t elaborate on here), there was so much food on those filthy tables, and even more food in garbage bags beside each table, that the entire place stunk. It all smelled like a mixture of chicken wings, beer and cheese. Ideal for a picnic with my family back when I was 12… far from ideal for a Mark Knopfler concert.

The show started at 9:00pm, roughly about the same time when the people behind us started talking. They appeared to have been having some sort of a picnic, a family gathering, or any other sort of collective activity. Why on earth would any of them pay $100 each just in order to get into a venue and talk—is beyond me.

I was very tired after a long day of parking my butt in the back seat. Towards the end of the first part of the concert, Kami decided that she must chill out, left the venue and waited for us in the car. It has really been a long day for everyone, especially Kami who did the entire driving.

The sound in the venue was really good, in terms of open‐space venues. Where I was seated, I experienced decent sound. A perfect mixture of great music and chatter from the simpletons behind us.

The band played their 29th concert very well. Richard Bennett, in his blog, mentioned that as the tour comes to an end the band appears to be shining really well. He is right. They allow themselves to improvise more and more. The first few riffs of Sultans of Swing were quite different than usual, the riffs before the last verse in “Song for Sonny Liston” were very interesting and John tried yet another thing during the Marbletown interlude, just when I thought you cannot possibly find any more ways to make it more beautiful than it already is.

Getting into the venue was very time consuming, and getting out of it was going to be a nightmare. Add the constant chatter from the back, pounding our heads all throughout the concert, and you’ll understand why we decided to leave before the concert ends. We figured that it will take us about an hour and a half, maybe two, to battle with traffic if we leave with everybody. Kami was already in the car, so Bruce and I left right at the beginning of the encore. I am sorry I cannot comment on the encore—try to visualize the worst headache and the longest day you ever had, and think how you would cope with two hours of traffic starting 11:00pm, when you have to wake up at 8:00am the next day to catch a plane…

As we were leaving, we noticed that something went wrong while playing Brothers in Arms. Mark started the intro, however it seemed like no other instrument was playing. The intro was stopped, the audience cheered, and within a minute everything was back to normal.

We started looking for the car, and after 5 minutes of searching we realized that we’re in the wrong parking lot. So we got to hear a little bit of So Far Away, which means that Shangri La wasn’t played—yielding the usual set list.

A drive back to the hotel, we thought what we should be doing. We were all very tired but really craved a drink before we call it a day. We went to the bar, and found out that it’s extremely noisy. We decided then to go to the cafe inside the hotel and take some drinks with us upstairs. We decided to go the “cool” way and ended up upstairs with two bottles of coke, chocolate milk and something called “Banana‐Colada” which was supposed to taste like a mixture of Banana and Pina‐colada but tasted like neither.

Obviously we had to find another topic to laugh about, so it was about 30 minutes of constant laughing and joking until we called it a day and went to sleep.

Isaac

Leaving Charlotte (Day Off)

So we left the Omni Hotel at around noon, making our way towards Middlesboro, KY. That was one great road trip—there is something about being on a road trip with people who are almost complete strangers to you. We talked about all sorts of things, told jokes and laughed about pretty much everything in life, including subjects not appropriate for a “family blog” like this one.

The drive itself is a beautiful drive. I never had any idea that North Carolina and Tennessee are such beautiful states. Some vistas here brought up sweet memories from British Columbia. Weather was rather twisty though—you get some great sun, the suddenly it’s pouring down rain as if there’s no tomorrow, then sunny again.

We became hungry and so decided to stop in Hendersonville, NC for lunch. As none of us knew anything about this place, I pulled my GPS and consulted it for places to eat. The first choice was the Outback Steakhouse, which we all were looking forward to, however it was closed. Then I suggested Mexican food. The GPS told us about this restaurant called “El Paso” something. We went there and realized that the “El Paso” restaurant is not much more than a deserted small building nestled within what appeared to be filth and neglect, so we passed.

Next choice was Applebee’s. Applebee’s is a North American chain, one of the few I haven’t yet had the chance to sample. I had their chicken‐apple‐walnut salad which was phenomenal—you get a huge portion but it’s so tasty that you have to finish it all. I am a sucker for fruit‐nuts salads.

We then continued straight home. When saying “home”, I refer to where Kami lives & works, which is in a tiny little town called Middlesboro, right on the Kentucky‐Tennessee border (at the Kentucky side). We stopped by in a gas station and bought a six‐pack of Corona’s, and then stopped in some market in Middlesboro that was one of the weirdest, scariest markets I’ve ever been in—everything so crowded and people giving you really funny looks.

We finally arrived at the house. It’s a brilliant house, has a huge living room, one bedroom and a huge bathroom, not to mention the deck at the rear. When sitting in the deck you get a good view of the mountains. Lots of horses around, too. Such a quiet place. Peace and joy.

Shortly after entering the house we started playing some music. There were three electric guitars there and some recording equipment. Bruce and I jammed for a little bit.

Kami and Bruce convinced me to attempt to record my first take on the tune that’s been playing in my head for a few years now. I never had the chance to sit down and record it, and here I am, thousands of kilometers away from home, sitting with almost complete strangers and recording the first track, and then the second one.

What came out of it sounded, I have to say, not bad at all. Kami and Bruce claim that it is beautiful. So here’s a resolution for after the trip: buying the right equipment and simply record my composition.

After that, we had some beer and pizza on the deck. We shared so many laughs, I can’t recall laughing that hard in my recent history. You know that stomach ache you get when you laugh very hard for a long period of time... all three of us experienced it.

Later on, Kami and I played “shuffleboard” for about an hour, as Bruce kept playing my recording and added a third track to it. I heard my own composition so many times, until it sank in—this is *my* composition. That made me proud.

Was time to call it a night already, as we have to wake up early next morning and drive to Atlanta.

Spending the time with Kami and Bruce that night has been one of the greatest highlights in my tour. Kami and Bruce—thank you for this wonderful night!

Isaac

Ovens Auditorium, Charlotte, NC

So the flight ended up being delayed for three hours. There was a thunderstorm and all airplanes were crowded. As the storm passed, air control opened up a few lanes and by the time our turn arrived it was already 4:00pm.

In my previous post, I mentioned the mature fellow whom I started speaking with and quickly got the impression that his temper is very short. Well, we ended up having a great discussion afterward. It turns out that he is a nuclear engineer, dealing with nuclear energy. Originally from South Africa, he had that kind of British‐like sense of humour and I was laughing so much during our discussion. I can’t recall ever laughing like that while talking to a total stranger.

The flight was very rocky—well, we’re talking about an airplane smaller than most buses I’ve seen. Service was very satisfactory. Finally we landed in Charlotte. The airplane stopped, everybody was very happy to unlock their safety belts and get their belongings from the overhead carry‐on baggage compartments. We were very excited, until the voice came up in the speakers informing us that the pilot has accidentally parked the airplane in the wrong spot.

That seemed to have completely wreck my flight partner’s nerves. We laughed so hard about how everything goes wrong when he’s on an airplane. Poor guy has been spending his time in airports and hotels for the last 3 nights trying to get from France back to his house in Virginia.

The airplane backed out and then in into the adjacent parking location. We were very happy that this nightmare is over.

Quickly rushed to the baggage claim area. It was 6:00pm already and the show starts at 8:00pm. As soon as I made it to the baggage claim area, I called Kami to let her know I’ll be out of the airport shortly. It turned out that she was already in the airport waiting for me, so after about a minute we finally met. It was so great to see her.

Took my huge backpack and went outside, where we quickly located Bruce—Kami’s husband. Quickly loaded my belongings into the SUV and off we went on our way to the hotel.

I first met Kami and Bruce in the Kettering concert, when they were seated front row, two seats to my right. Such great people—it was great meeting with them again. They drove from their house in Kentucky to Charlotte to catch the concert, and since they were going to spend the night they invited me to stay as a guest in their hotel room.

The hotel is called The Omni Hotel, right downtown on East Trade Street. A fantastic hotel, I have to say. Very clean, very big—they have their own Starbucks downstairs—and there’s even a piano (which I didn’t get around to play). The room was huge and had everything in it.

Put my stuff there and then we discussed where it is that we want to eat, before going to the concert. We realized that, no matter what we do (unless we eat fast food), we’ll have to miss Jesca’s concert. We decided to eat at the hotel’s restaurant, where we all enjoyed a great meal. I don’t recall what it was that I ordered—it was the special of the day, which had a bunch of seafood in it, dates, figs and other surprises, surrounded by awesome pasta. Preceded by a great Caesar’s salad, that was definitely one of the best meals I’ve ever had. Amazing.

We continued talking about all sorts of things, then it was time to get to the venue. It was already close to 8:00pm.

Kami, it turns out, is a songwriter and a composer; Bruce is also a musician and plays the guitar. Kami herself is a great Mark Knopfler fan, and decided to record a song for him. She wrote some awesome lyrics, and with the help of Bruce they recorded a beautiful song. We heard the song on the way to the venue. As she’s very shy, it took us (Bruce & myself) some time to convince her that she should pass it on in some way, even though some vocal parts still needed some final touch. She said that’s the best way she can think of to give something back.

So sweet.

We made it to the venue at approximately 8:25pm. We were told that parking is $6 but there was nobody to collect.

We entered the venue as Jesca was playing her last song. I was seated in row C seat 101—not a bad seat; Kami and Bruce were seated at the front row, almost at the center.

During the intermission between the concerts, Kami went outside so I joined Bruce as the front row. Suddenly the guy next to me turns to me and introduces himself. His name was Rich. I told him that my name is Isaac, to which he reacted with extreme joy as it turned out that he’s been following my blog. It further turned out that he and Kami exchanged emails back and forth. What a small world.

As Kami arrived, I made my way back to my seat and decided to get something to drink before the show starts. As I made my way out, someone coming the opposite way stopped me.

– “Isaac?”

– “Yes…”

– “Hi, it’s Daren”

Daren emailed me about three weeks ago, after reading my blog, and has been following it ever since. We made plans to meet while in Charlotte but it never materialized—no worries, there’s always a next time. We shared a couple of laughs, then he pointed at where he was seated—second row center.

Great guy!

I went back into the hall as the band was making its way onto the stage. The audience were all cheering like crazy, and there I am marching down the stairs towards my third row seat. Guy Fletcher recognized me and pointed at me as if saying “Oh, you again”. Yes, Guy. Yes. I made it. Flight delayed by three hours but I made it.

Sitting next to me was a cute couple—a blond girl with short hair and what appeared to have been her boyfriend, but I wasn’t sure until halfway through the show when they started holding hands. Poor couple, didn’t know what’s going to be sitting next to them. The show was so great, I moved every bone and muscle in my body as I danced during the entire show.

This is a very small venue, yet the sound was fantastic. I checked with Kami and Bruce after the show, and they mentioned that the sound was great even at the front row—much better than the previous concert they attended, in Kettering (which was open‐door).

The audience was great, very cheerful. They were so happy to see the band that they cheered all throughout the concert. Great performance by the band (performing the usual set list). Perfect. Each and every song was performed in a way that left the audience cheering with sheer enthusiasm. Nobody really wanted this concert to end.

It was fantastic.

While playing Romeo and Juliet, some chick decided that it’s the best time to approach the stage, holding a piece of paper and what seemed to me like a rose, and put it on the stage, much to the discontent of the stage security guard who forced her to return to her seat ASAP.

Right after playing Song for Sonny Liston, before introducing the band, Mark provided some insights about Sonny Liston, apparently some facts that he learned before composing the song. It was really funny. I can’t recall the exact words, but he was telling about something he read, when they asked a heavyweight boxer what is so scary about Joe Louis, and the boxer responded “it’s getting in the ring with Joe Louis, and realizing that he wants to go home early”. We all laughed heartily. And, whoever of you who heard Mark Knopfler talk, can probably appreciate the fact that his tone of voice really adds lots of humour.

Mark then went on to introduce the band, failing to mention the special truck / U‐Haul trailer required to carry Richard’s immense collection of instruments. Also during the introduction, he spotted someone recording and asked them to stop that blinking red light.

Wonderful Marbletown interlude and another fantastic performance of Telegraph Road which made a lot of people in the audience drop their jaws. The first part of the show was over and the audience cheered extremely loudly for more.

I went to the front row, to discuss the show with Kami and Bruce. Right before the band came back, I told Kami that I have to make my way back to my seat, however she instructed me to stay where I am. We ended up sharing one seat, so there again I find myself at the front row during the encore. This seemed to have made Richard laugh, as he can’t figure out how come I always am either seated in the front row, or suddenly appear in the front row during the encore, as if out of nowhere.

Well, what can I say. After so many shows, the front row always finds a way to have me in it.

It was worth being seated 5 hours in an airplane for this show.

After the show, as I approached the agreed‐upon meeting place between Kami, Bruce and Myself, I ran into Daren again. He was accompanied by his girlfriend—a sweet lady who I believe responds to the name Cinamon, his friend Doug and another woman whose name I didn’t get. We shared a few more laughs until Kami and Bruce showed up and off we went back to the hotel.

Daren, beer is on me next time I’m in town!

We drove back to the hotel and decided to stay in the bar for some drinks. We had a few, talked about all sorts of things, ran a few laughs and went upstairs. Another great day has ended—great not just due to an awesome concert, but also to this absolutely great couple I had the privilege to meet.

Kami and Bruce—thank you so much for hosting me and being such great people to hang out with!

We’ll be off to Middlesboro, KY soon, where Kami lives & works, hang out for the rest of the day and make our way to Atlanta tomorrow morning as both Kami and Bruce have decided to see the band in action once again in Atlanta.

Later,
Isaac

Getting to Charlotte

Woke up at 8:30am today in Philadelphia. My flight from Newark to Charlotte was scheduled to leave at 1:05pm and I didn’t want to take any chances.

It was an easy ride out of Philadelphia. I was very hungry and also craved some latte to make my morning easier, so I pulled over into one of the service centers on the New Jersey Turnpike. The service center (I think it was called “Woodrow Wilson”) had some fast food places in it, as well as Blimpie (or Blimpy, can’t remember—a sandwich place) and Starbucks.

There were two people ahead of me in line. The first woman ordered 2 sandwiches, which took the guy working there about 10 minutes to make. The next one was a guy who brought a hamburger from Roy Rogers and wanted some of Blimpy’s toppings on it. This is very bizarre—I’ve never seen anything like it before.

I ordered my sandwich, had half of it and decided to hit Starbucks, only to realize that there’s a line of 15 people and the people working there appear to be taking their time, so I left.

I pulled over at the next service center for my latte.

Approaching the Newark Airport, I remembered that I have to top‐up the fuel tank for the rental car. That took another 10 minutes, then I finally arrived at Budget.

The Newark airport, as I mentioned before, is very well‐marked and you can’t get lost anywhere. I quickly found the check‐in counter, and also found out that those people are working very, very slowly. Finally got to the check‐in counter (the automatic counter told me, upon entering the confirmation code, to go see an agent as my reservation requires “special handling”. I love being special), checked into my flight and went towards the gate.

The flight was scheduled to leave at 1:05pm. Now it’s 2:35pm and we’re still on the ground. Apparently there’s some severe weather conditions coming from Virginia and no airplane is leaving Newark at the moment. I really hope I don’t miss the concert tonight as this is going to suck. Dear Kami is supposed to pick me up at the airport—I called her and let her know of the delay. I will take a taxi cab from the airport to the hotel (Kami allowed me to stay as a guest in the hotel room with herself and her husband—thanks Kami!) and then head straight to the venue, using whatever transportation that is available, regardless of cost.

It’s been a very long day so far, so I decided to talk to the guy sitting next to me. A mature, about 60 years old fellow. My ice‐breaking line was “are these delays typical to the New York area?”.

It turned out that I may have barked at the wrong tree. This poor guy next to me told me that it’s been three days since he left Lions, France on his way home, and there are flights cancelled all along the way. The guy was supposed to make it home in one day but it’s now taking three days and counting. He also told me that his temper is very, very short due to this.

I thanked him for the lovely (but yet too short) conversation and promised to never bother him again. He put my misery in perspective.

2:38pm… still no news.

Will turn off the laptop now, to conserve battery.

Later,
Isaac

Mann Center, Philadelphia, PA

Before heading to the venue, Jeroen and I decided to try a Philly Cheese Steak. It appears that everybody’s talking about the “Philly Cheese Steak” and that it’s a must‐eat when in Philadelphia. So we ended up having one in a market next to the hotel.

I swear to God, I have no idea what the fuss is all about. It’s simply thin slices of steak, on a bun, with some cheese on it—American cheese, or Provolone, or whatever. It is not that tasty at all. I didn’t like. Will probably never try again.

The special bus that takes you from downtown (picks you up from multiple locations, dropping you off at the venue) was on time and we got to the venue earlier than expected. We had about an hour to kill before Jesca’s performance, so we started by checking our seats out.

I was seated at pit center, row DD, seat 108—4th row, right at the center. Not bad at all. Jeroen was sitting at pit right, row AA all the way to the right.

We then took a walk around the venue. Very nice venue, indeed—one of the best open‐door venue I’ve seen so far. The pictures I took of the venue itself came out blurry, but here is a picture of Philadelphia’s skyline, taken from within the venue.

I continued walking, and as I was climbing the stairs I noticed a couple going the opposite direction. Suddenly, the woman calls my name.

– “Isaac?”

– “Yes…?”

– “Hi, I am Patty. I was reading your blog.”

It’s not the first time it happened to me during this trip. It appears that more and more people are reading and following this blog, which makes me happy as it implies that I’m doing a good job. It’s not hard to find a picture of me here, so I guess that’s how I get recognized.

We continued talking for a few minutes. Patty and John turned to be a very nice couple, living in Walnut Bottom, PA (yes, I was also baffled when I heard the name of the place). Very laid‐back people, from a small community—ah, I miss home. We shared a few stories, had a couple of laughs… was great talking with them.

Before Jesca’s show, Jeroen asked one of the people in charge of keeping the herds of people from the stage if he could take a picture of us both, which he denied. I wasn’t surprised. I turned to that person and asked him if it’s because his job mandates that he never turns his back at the crowd. He confirmed, saying that his job definition is to do exactly what he is doing at the moment.

Now I’m sorry to deviate a little bit from the description of the event. I have absolutely nothing, nothing against that person. Really. It is his choice how to fulfil his job.

I am thinking about that person. From what he said, and the tone in which he said it, I could easily conclude that he spoke out of fear. Fear of losing his job due to taking any sort of risk or of deviating even one millimetre from the one single functionality which he was commissioned to fulfil.

This fear is not born; it is acquired. So yes, this person really does his job. But lets look at the general case—forget, for a second, about that venue worker: if all of us do exactly what we’re told to do, in the way we’re told to do it, and never deviate from the single functionality we’re supposed to fulfil…

Then where are we headed?

What baffles me is that people working in a society that promotes innovation and progress educates and trains its workers—and it doesn’t matter if we’re talking about highly‐paid executives or low‐paid stage security guards—to do exactly the opposite.

It’s time that we all realize that we would have never got to where we are now if it wasn’t for daring, for innovation, and for not fearing being different and dynamic.

Most people claim that if it ain’t broken, don’t fix it.

My claim during 30 years of living is that if it ain’t broken, make it work better and more efficiently.

OK, back to the concert.

Jesca went on stage at 8:00pm to play her usual set, which I liked and it seems like I wasn’t the only one. She gave a very good performance.

During the intermission I took a few more pictures showing the venue filling up with people.

I started the show, as mentioned above, sitting in row DD seat 108. It turned out that the seat right in front of me—row CC—was empty. I asked the nice woman sitting next to it whether it’s available or not, she said that as far as she knows nobody’s sitting there. I waited to the applause break and went to Jeroen, gave him my ticket because he previously mentioned that he prefers being in the center; I then went one row forward and now I’m in row CC, right at the center.

Right in front of me, row BB, there was Nancy again and her friend (have I already mentioned how bad I am with names?). It turned out that this is the last concert Nancy’s going to attend in this tour. How sad.

The best seats in the house—row AA, dead center—were empty for most of the time. There were two guys who took these seats at the beginning of the show, and were actually sitting on them maybe %20 of the time, to a stretch. At the rest of the time, they were out drinking beer.

My guess is that at least one of those bozos is a scalper, who simply couldn’t sell those tickets for the price he demanded so he figured, hey, what the hell, lets see portions of the show.

The show itself was an absolute blast. I can definitely state that the Philadelphia show ranks very high up there, alongside with the L.A, Seattle, Edmonton and Ottawa shows. It was a blast in every way possible.

The sound was terrific. Even Jeroen, sitting at the very right of the front row, claimed that the sound was better than most of the shows he attended in Europe.

The crowd was great and extremely cheery. People got up virtually after (and sometimes during) each and every song, with some enthusiastic cheers during “Sailing to Philadelphia”. The crowd went completely bananas during Telegraph Road.

During the introduction of the band members, Mark spotted two people filming the show and asked them to turn it off.

The performances were nothing short of outstanding:

Hill Farmer’s Blues was amazing.

The Marbletown interlude was a bit different than before with John simply kicking serious butt. What a powerful performance!

Brothers in Arms—very touching solo, almost as touching as the original from the CD.

The climax—another amazing performance of Telegraph Road. It was so amazing, that I almost strained my neck due to moving it in random directions, getting completely addicted to the music. And I wasn’t the only one. The audience was amazed. So amazed that we all got up about a minute before the Telegraph Road performance ended and just cheered to no end. It was that awesome.

Shangri La has been resurrected and was played in the encore.

This show was so fantastic with every single band member demonstrating outstanding musicianship.

Right after So Far Away, when it was time for the last encore, the two bozos capturing the best seats have departed the venue. Nancy, her friend and myself found ourselves standing in the front row, at the center, during the performance of the last encore. Richard appeared surprised, as if he couldn’t fathom how come I made it from the 4th row to the front.

After the performance, some people went towards the stage in order to shake Mark’s hand. I decided not to, even though Mark appeared to not mind. He still carried his Fender in his hand, and the cord was wrapped around one of the speakers in a way that would shortly result in the guitar being dropped, however Guy realized this early enough and grabbed the guitar from Mark’s hands.

We left the venue hungry for more. Walking out of the venue, Nancy and her friend suggested that they drive us to our hotel instead of us having to worry about finding that bus back home which takes about an hour. It was so nice of them. I mentioned before that one of the main reasons for this trip being such a great experience for me is the great people I meet along the way. Thank you both for the ride!

As I have to leave early tomorrow, back to Newark to return the car and take the flight to Charlotte, I decided to stay in the hotel room, write my blog and pack my stuff instead of going out for a drink. Tomorrow is going to be a long day. I’m sad for parting ways with Jeroen, but I’ll see him again in Miami Beach for the last concert.

I can’t believe that there are only four shows left.

In a way, I really don’t want this to end.

--
Isaac

Streets of Philadelphia

This Bruce Springsteen’s song from 1993 has always been one of my favourites, and even prompted me to buy his Greatest Hits CD two years later.

So today I found myself walking the streets of Philadelphia. It is a wonderful city, and I will definitely come back here to explore more. As the hotel is located next to City Hall, exploring the downtown area is very easy. I walked up Market Street, then just took a turn and let myself get lost. I ended up walking through Antique Row (Pine Street).

I stepped into Starbucks and got their iced “Passion Tea”, which lived up to its name and built up immense passion within me to throw the darn thing away as it gave “repulsive” a whole new meaning.

I then continued getting lost and got the urge for some espresso. I noticed this tiny place called “Spruce Street Espresso”. They don’t have a website but here are some pictures:

The cappuccino was amazing. Very recommended.

Jeroen and I agreed to meet in the lobby on 4:00pm sharp, so we can catch a Philly Cheese Steak before we take the bus to the venue, so right after the cappuccino I started walking back to the hotel. I caught this nice view in Broad Street:

It’s 4:00pm now, so time to get dressed and get some late lunch before the show.

Later,
Isaac

New Jersey Performing Arts Centre, Newark, NJ

So the day started easy. Woke up at around 9:00am, then Jeroen and myself hit the Manhattan Diner for breakfast which was good. Then we returned to the hotel room, to make some final arrangements. Jeroen decided to join me at the Newark concert—poor guy, got a seat at the fourth tier—dead center though. I called my (never to be used again after this trip) travel agency to cancel flights that I am obviously not going to take.

Before leaving the hotel for good, I toyed with the idea of playing that piano again.

I didn’t mention it in my previous post, and perhaps I should: During my childhood, I used to play the keyboard a lot. It was a simple keyboard, that my wonderful dad bought for me when I was 4 years old. He bought it as he was returning from a draft military service during the 1982 Israel‐Lebanon war (he was later injured during that same war). Being 4 years old at that time, I didn’t really understand what “war” means and I further wasn’t able to appreciate how much time, money and effort it took him to do it.

So anyway, I happen to have a perfect pitch and an extremely developed “relative hearing”. As I was 4 years old and there was nobody to teach me how to read notes, I simply taught myself. So there I am, a 4 (or maybe 5) years old kid trying to understand the written language of music.

The way that I did it may sound a bit odd, but it worked. My parents happened to have an old Richard Clayderman record. I listened to it, and then asked my dad to go with me to buy the sheet music for the same songs played on that album. I then dedicated days and nights, listening to the album and trying to make sense of the sheet music, and haven’t given up until I figured it out. In a sense, I learned how to read notes simply by hearing and trying to synchronize what I’m hearing with what I’m reading, as well as trying playing it myself.

I really wanted a piano, however my family’s financial situation was not good at all (which also explains my attraction to the field of money management, investing etc., acquired later in life; perhaps in a separate post). They couldn’t afford it. As years went by, I ditched that keyboard however the knowledge of how to play the piano has remained. The passion has remained as well.

The number of times I actually sat down in front of a piano and played is, I would estimate, less than 100 in my entire life (there was an old piano in the neighbourhood's library, and my best friend in Israel had one at home that I seldom played).

Last night, I gave it a shot and decided to play my own custom piano version of Richard Bennett’s “A Face No More”, one of my favourite tracks of his first album. I have never played that song before, even on my guitar, let alone on any sort of keyboard. Yet it came out beautiful on that grand piano they had there in the hotel.

So, anyway.

I needed to get to the Newark airport to pick up the car. And who is better to advise me than the wonderful concierge in the hotel. Our options:

1. Pay $80 for a private car service that will be ready upon a 2 hour (!!!) notice.
2. Take a taxi cab and hope for good, because—and this is according to the concierge, I swear to God almighty that it’s an accurate quote—“they don’t like driving to Newark”.
3. Pay $17 each and get there by public transit within an hour.

Now, Jeroen has a PhD in mathematics. I am very good in mathematics myself. Combining our two awesome brains together we arrived at the conclusion that the third option makes a bit more sense.

We walked to the subway station on West 79th and took route #1 to Penn Station. That was a very interesting experience due to the humongous load on my back, which forced me to manoeuvre myself as people boarded and left the subway. Finally we made it to Penn Station, bought tickets to the NJ Transit and waited for the next train, while I was devouring an Auntie Anne’s pretzel.

We left the station at 1:03pm en route to Newark Airport. The train ride starts underground, and is 20 minutes long. 5 minutes into the ride, it goes to ground level and you can’t believe your eyes. How different it is than NYC! No rush, no giant buildings... feels like home again.

From the Newark International Airport station, we took the AirTrain directly to the Newark Airport’s car rental location. The AirTrain thing is cool. In fact, I found the entire Newark Airport area to be rather clean and very well marked. You can’t get lost here.

Rented a car, a Chevrolet Cobalt, however its remote seemed to have been broken; car was exchanged to a Dodge Caliber which worked fine.

For some whatever reason, Jeroen and I decided it would be best to first drive to Philadelphia, unload our luggage, check into the hotel and go back to Newark, so we drove a few miles (well... 20) on the toll road before realizing that we are both extraordinarily stupid and turned back.

We went directly to the venue, which turned out later to be a very wise decision. We parked at the venue. A text‐message from my friend Alex Flagg (residing in San Francisco, we met in Boston after the concert), arriving about an hour after we parked, advised me that car theft rates in Newark are three times the national average and nine times that of NYC. As we had to leave our entire belongings in the car, security was a major concern. So it worked out nicely. As we came early, the venue’s parking lot was almost empty.

In the parking lot, I witnessed and extremely odd incident. I was going to pay for my parking pass. Suddenly some guy approached the person working at the parking garage, to ask him a question. He seemed to have tickets left at the Will Call for him, and asked for information where to pick up the tickets from.

The guy, seemed to be in his 50’s, looked at the requester with glazed eyes, and replied in a very deep and authoritative voice:

– “Do you have a parking pass?”

I was amazed, however not as much as the poor guy asking the question. He said “never mind” and left.

Yet another evidence to some people simply not caring for anything else in the world other than the specific function that they were destined to fulfill. That started yet another thought process in my head.

This really is a vicious cycle. People who don’t care and don’t see anything beyond the tip of their nose, typically are not promoted and are not given the chance to demonstrate more sophisticated abilities; and people who are being stuck with low‐end jobs and not being promoted and / or motivated are very likely to develop resentment towards the entire universe to the point that they completely lose interest in everything, except for what’s required for them to keep the job that they hate so much.

If it sounds confusing, then it’s because it really is.

But I think it’s true.

We took some stuff from the car with us and Jeroen wanted to pick his ticket up from the Will Call window, which, unlike the one in NYC, was very helpful except that they didn’t even bother asking him for ID—very strange. He then continued to ask if there’s any seat available which is better than the one he had. Some alternatives have been suggested, and he passed on all of them.

It was time to get a bite so we decided to hit what we thought was Newark’s cool downtown area. We walked from the venue to Broad Street which appeared to be the street where everything happens, only to find out that whatever happens there is not to our liking (involves people exchanging cash for some unidentifiable items). We switched direction and walked the other direction of Broad Street, just to get an even scarier image. Our mission to find a decent place to eat has failed miserably, and we had to choose between hitting Quizno’s Sub to going back to the venue and eating in the bistro they have there.

We went to the bistro.

Took us a few minutes to figure out that the outdoor seating is closed. It turned out that there are two parts to the eatery there: Theater Square Grill and Theater Square Bistro. The Grill was closed, the Bistro was open. As soon as we entered, we were asked by the hostess if we had a reservation. Here is what the place looked like:

Impressed by the outstanding occupancy of the place, we said “no” and headed to the bar. The Bistro menu is very short however has some interesting items in it. I went for the trout salad and the burger, which were very good.

We had some time to kill so we headed back to Broad Street for a Starbucks. I asked the Barista there if we’re in a rough area of town. She smiled and said that Newark itself is a rough area of the world. It’s relatively unsafe anywhere in the downtown area. I thanked her for boosting my self confidence. We had our beverages and went back to the venue.

I wanted to check emails. The venue has some laptops adjacent to this cafe they have inside. The laptops are there to be used by patrons. Supposed to be free. Problem is that it didn’t work at all. It seemed like they were all connected wirelessly to their main router, but their main router failed to provide the machines with appropriate IP addresses, giving you that icon of “limited or no connectivity”. I notified the guy who worked there, who suddenly decided to appear knowledgeable, and went on to the most advanced level of computer systems troubleshooting—that of rebooting the laptops. Obviously that didn’t help. He then later told me that I’m the first who complained, in a tone that appeared to imply that I ruined it.

Geeeee.

I took some pictures of the venue:

The venue, as well as its surroundings, is very impressive. It shows that people put a lot of effort and money into it. It is extremely clean, very well designed and it’s very easy to find your way around. The staff is courteous as well.

The doors opened at 7:30pm, half an hour before the opening act. I entered the venue and, guys, this venue is nothing short of breathtaking.

What you see in this picture is the four tiers of this venue. I was seated front row, seat 115. The entire row had 16 seats and, really, no seat on that row is bad. Poor Jeroen, though, had to sit somewhere in the fourth tier. Look at it, it is so high. I suggested he rents some binoculars. He refused.

Jesca appeared on the stage at 8:00pm sharp, this time wearing jeans, some shirt and what appeared to be a bandanna on her head. As she approached the stage, I mistook the bandanna for some huge bandage and was really scared that maybe something horrible happened to her. I was relieved to find out this wasn’t the case.

Jesca performed her usual set which was good to my taste. I don’t recall which song it was when she suddenly realized she can’t remember the lyrics. She stopped for a second, then mentioned to us that she can’t remember the lyrics, got some good cheer and encouragement from the crowd and moved on. And she takes it all very lightly and easily! Amazing attitude.

During the break between the shows, I was approached to by a nice couple. The man asked me if I’m Isaac. I confirmed and then he introduced himself as Bill. Can’t recall his wife’s name (I told you all about 1,000 times before, I am terrible with names), but I’m pretty sure it was Carol. Bill told me that they have been reading my blog and enjoying it. We had a short chat that was interrupted by Paul’s authoritative voice asking people to shut off their cellphones and declaring war on filming.

I also met Nancy, a cool lady whom I’ve seen in two shows before—Las Vegas and (I think) Boston. We had a very short chat—she was seated a few seats away from me, until I realized (by the songs playing pre‐show) that the show is about to start in 10 seconds. I told them (she was there with a friend. Again, I’m terrible with names) that the show is about to start any second now and counted down with my fingers. They seemed to have thought I went completely bananas, however I ended up being correct so they laughed.

The show was great. Richard has mentioned in his previous blog that, as the tour is coming to an end, he becomes more and more tired. Well, even if it is true, it really isn’t reflected by the way he plays because he seemed as energetic and awesome as usual.

The set list was the usual one and the audience loved the show. The guy sitting next to me went completely ape sh*t during the show and appeared to be very excited about finally seeing these seven wonders perform.

Mark appeared to have rememorized the lyrics of So Far Away, as in the NYC show he played the wrong order (almost positive about it; checked with Jeroen, he thinks so too).

Awesome solo work during Hill Farmer’s Blues and Telegraph Road, and great acoustic work during Marbletown right before the interlude.

Everybody played very well. I think that at some point during the show there was a buzz emerging from one of the speakers, which has been fixed within seconds.

The sound was great in this venue. Speaking to Jeroen after the show, after he managed to come down from 30,000 feet above onto the ground floor, he told me that this was perhaps the best sound he ever experienced in a venue.

The problem in sitting in the front row is that you rarely get really, really good sound. More often than not, you get some noise as well. The noise level heard in the front row yesterday wasn’t that bad, however I’m sure that people sitting farther away from the stage got some great sound.

After the show, we went back to the car and drove all the way to Philadelphia. Tried to avoid the turnpike by setting my GPS’s preferences, only to find out that it takes us through US‐1 & 9 which has lots of traffic lights in it. We ended up going on the turnpike all the way to Philadelphia, for the staggering cost of $3.05. Took us some wandering around in downtown, as I took a wrong ramp into the lower level and my GPS thought that I’m the second level, asking me to make turns that I simply couldn’t as my car had no wings. We figured it out at the end.

Jeroen, being so kind as he is, also invited me to stay as a guest in his Philadelphia hotel. This turned out to be the Marriott Courtyard, right next to city hall. He got a room which is larger than some Toronto apartments I’ve seen. What a great room!

I asked about parking. The hotel offered a valet service, $40 for 24 hours. Or I can park my car in the parkade across the street for $30 a night. Outrageous, considering the fact I have to leave my car there for two nights. I was so tired so I took the car to the parkade. Upon returning to the room, I checked the parking situation over Google and found out that I could have parked my car in the JFK Plaza for $8.50 for the entire weekend. I started to wonder why is it that the receptionist didn’t tell me about that cheap & convenient option (the plaza is two blocks away). Then it occurred to me—well, she works for the hotel after all. The hotel needs to make money. Why would she tell me of a cost‐effective way to park my car, rather than boasting their valet service?

So first thing I did this morning was to take my car away from that parkade to the JFK plaza, where it is now. Then Jeroen and I went for some breakfast in a place called “Corner Bakery & Cafe”. Their Chicken Pomodoro sandwich is fantastic.

Went back to the hotel (where I am at the moment). Jeroen decided to board one of those funny tour buses, I decided to explore things by foot. I only have a few hours in this city until the show, and I have to leave tomorrow early morning to catch my flight from Newark to Charlotte.

Tonight I’m seated in row DD seat 108. Jeroen will be in the front row, he got it by ordering through the venue itself. Whoever of you attending the show tonight, feel free to drop by and say hello.

Later,
Isaac

Afternoon in New York City

So I managed to survive a day in NYC.

After posting the previous post, I went back to Times Square by the subway and started walking. It was a long walk. I went east and west of Broadway, as well as all the way to where Broadway crosses 5^th Avenue.

During the afternoon, there were herds of people on the streets. I was amazed. Then came the evening, and it got to a point that I wasn’t just amazed; I was horrified. Coming 5–6pm, you simply cannot see the pavement due to the massive number of people walking the streets.

Other than touring around, I decided to get some taste of New York. Being alone, I preferred to not go to some fancy restaurant—I was content with just going to a small place. I ended up going to Pancho Villa, a Mexican pub/restaurant (sorry, I can’t remember where). Very filling meal, quite good, for $7.

Continued walking until I came across Aunt Annie’s, which is a chain that specializes in pretzels. Someone working there gave me a sample of those pretzels, and whoever knows me can tell you that I am a sucker for pastries. I got an almonds‐nuts pretzel which was amazing.

I am pretty sure that Starbucks took over the city’s cafe scene. There’s a Starbucks literally in every block here. I was craving a latte but couldn’t find any cafe that is not Starbucks, so I ended up stepping into one and getting a latte which turned out to be rubbish.

After walking for so long, I stopped at a bench near Broadway & 5th, for about 45 minutes. I could feel my blood flowing into my poor feet. Then I made my way back to Times Square and took the subway to the hotel.

Jeroen mentioned to me that he’s going to have a drink with a friend of his in some rooftop bar in downtown. We agreed that his friend sends me a text message to let me know exactly where the bar is. At around 8:00pm I got the text message, saying that the place is on 5th Avenue between 26th and 27th, and that you can’t wear shorts and must have a collared shirt. The latter was a problem as I only brought T‐shirts with me. Jeroen agreed that I wear one of his shirts, so I ended up wearing what I believe is the flashiest shirt I have ever wore before.

Went to the subway and found my way to the bar. It is a nice rooftop bar from which you can see some nice scenery—the Empire State building, the Chrysler building and more. You see the kind of life you usually see on TV—bunch of people, well‐dressed, very crowded, having laughs and drinks. The “New York Glamor” which, for me, is kinda fake, and I’ll leave it at that.

I got to meet Jeroen’s friend, Hiskias, had a drink and chatted. I was there for about 30–45 minutes and then Hiskias mentioned he has to leave, so we all left. Jeroen and myself walked to Times Square, I had a pizza and we took the subway back to the hotel. It was 11:00pm and the subway was fully loaded. Millions of people roaming the streets and the subway system.

Now it’s Friday morning. Show tonight at the NJPAC. I convinced Jeroen to come with me to the show, so we will be leaving to New Jersey soon.

Later,
Isaac

Morning in New York City (or: Change)

So right after finishing writing the previous blog entry, Jeroen and myself went to this diner, called Manhattan Diner, right across the street from the hotel. It’s amazing how rushed and fast life is here. Everything’s so quick. All done in haste, as if someone’s up there waiting with a stopwatch for you to finish your earthly duty.

After breakfast, Jeroen and myself went different ways. He went to Brooklyn, I decided to walk downtown.

Very busy city. Can’t believe that some people are insane enough to drive in here.

Tried to find a coffee place, but all I saw was Starbucks in pretty much each and every block (I was walking down Broadway). Went into Best Buy, looking for a carrying kit for my GPS, only to realize their selection is rather dull.

I then decided to walk into Rudy’s Music Stop. I met Rudy yesterday at the meet and greet - very nice person, however it turned out that he could barely recall he met me. Not surprising considering the fact that he meets so many people every day. I asked him about a guitar I’d like him to build for me, a replica of the one Mark Knopfler played in “A Night in London” in 1996 (played “Sultans of Swing” with it - the version with the unforgettable, and never played thereafter, interlude). He mentioned the price of $7,995 and the payment terms, and then suggested that I meet him upstairs for a demonstration of how he builds his guitars and other interesting things.

I went upstairs, waited for about 20 minutes but he never showed up. I asked the attendant there to tell Rudy that I was waiting, so he doesn’t get the impression that I just walked away. Rudy must be an extremely busy person. Anyway, it was nice being there. I guess I’ll have to postpone my Pensa plans.

What a crazy city. Now, just for background, I did live and grow up in a crowded city. I was born and raised in a city neighbouring Tel-Aviv, and I have some experience of the Tel-Aviv life. Not as crazy as New-York, but pretty high up there. That was one of the reasons why I left Israel - to escape the rush. I wanted peace and quiet. And once you experience peace & quiet for a few years, you just can’t go back to life in the fast lane.

Yet, it’s nice to experience this kind of life every once in a while. Makes me appreciate the life I have back in Waterloo.

Ever felt like you need to escape of your daily routine, that you need to “see things from a different perspective”? It’s a really interesting phenomenon. Why is it that a person needs to get out from a certain “system” in order to “see things from a different perspective”, even if his life is good and comfortable where he is? I have no reason to complain about my daily life back in Waterloo, yet I often feel the need to just get away from it all.

I thought about it a lot and also did some research. The answer became very clear after I read one of the most fascinating books I have ever read, called “Change; Principles of Problem Formation and Problem Resolution” by Paul Watzlawick, Ph.D, John Weakland, Ch.E and Richard Fisch, M.D.

One of the symptoms of living a routine is that our values, and the way we appreciate things, are adjusted to reflect that routine. A person who is born poor and has to live life of poverty, and a person who is born rich and lives life of luxury, often see things in completely different ways.

Now comes the important point: A system cannot be evaluated and appreciated by terms defined within that system; it can only be evaluated and appreciated by terms external to it.

It turns out that this distinction is as true in life as it is in mathematics (and I will not dwell into the Group Theory and Calculus here). Think about a situation that you have been involved in, or are involved in at the moment, that results in what seems like a “deadlock”. This is often the result of trying to think of a solution to a problem, by looking at the problem-space only and not thinking “outside the box”. This exactly is the topic of that book I mentioned earlier - how to change systems and solve problems that appear to be unchangeable and insolvable. The idea behind it is that certain systems will not change or solve by just introducing a change within the system; there is a need to change something in a higher level, that will cause a change in the nature of the system itself.

I know this may sound a little bizarre; however, from my experience, it is very true.

Very recommended reading. Link:

http://www.amazon.com/Change-Principles-Problem-Formation-Resolution/dp/0393011046/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1216924643&sr=8-1

So there you go. When you live life in comfort, you sometimes need to get away from it all. Not because you don’t like your life, but merely to re-establish your appreciation of everything. This is true not only for re-appreciating lifestyle; it is also good, in my opinion, in relationships. However that would be a topic for a separate post.

Continuing my exploration of NYC’s streets…

Isaac

Rumsey’s Playfield (Central Park SummerStage), New York City, NY

Today has been a very long day.

Woke up very early in the morning so I can catch the 9:02am train to NYC. I had to drive the car to the rental place, catch the shuttle to the airport, and in the airport—catch the shuttle to the Amtrak station. All of these three locations are very close to one another. I made it to the train station on time.

Well this is some small train station they have there, close to the airport. My train was 25 minutes late. I used the time to practice more efficient packing. Finally, it had arrived.

The first thing I did after unloading my huge backpack onto the baggage shelf right above my head, was to get up again. I was starving and decided to hit the “snack car” they have there on the train. The “snack car” turned out to be some no more than a set of fridges holding out‐dated food, as well as a cranky old man trying to sell those goods to people who really had no other choice. Like me.

The menu had “the sandwich of the day”. I asked the guy there what is the sandwich of the day. He appeared to be baffled.

– “It’s a sandwich.”

You don’t say.

– “Yes, I know it’s a sandwich, but what’s in it?”

He pointed at the picture of the sandwich, hanging there next to the menu. I realized that picture before—it showed something that looked like beef. But hey, the menu says “sandwich of the day”. It may vary.

I told him I’ll take it, to which he replied:

– “Do you know what’s in it?”

I really didn’t want to fail that question because I got the feeling that if I fail it then he’ll hold the sandwich away from me.

– “... Beef?”

– “Corned beef.”

– “Yes, it’s OK, I’ll take it, and a bottle of sparkling water please.”

Made my way back to my seat and devoured the 30‐days‐old sandwich as if it was a juicy steak. Had some water and decided to catch some sleep. That was impossible as I can’t fall asleep for more than 2 minutes when I’m seated.

Very tired, about an hour away from NYC, I realized that although I know where I’m heading, I have no idea how to get there. I was going to meet Jeroen, a man who lives in Holland and came to the US for a vacation / concert combo, and who had read my blog and offered that I become a guest in his hotel room.

I have been to NYC only twice before, the first time being 13 years old and the second time, similarly to Syracuse, for reasons I will not disclose except that it had something to do with a woman. Yes, the same woman from the Syracuse story. I have never had the chance to actually explore NYC by foot, independently. A short look at my mapping software showed me that the hotel is 4.2km away from Penn Station, and that there’s a close‐by subway station on West 79th & Broadway.

I realized I’d have to figure things out on the fly. The concert starts at 5:30pm, Jeroen mentioned he’d like to be there early enough to get a good standing location. With the train being 20 minutes late, there was a bit of a rush there.

Got off the train into Penn Station. First time in my life in this huge, gigantic station. Surprisingly, it’s not that hard to navigate. Just follow the signs and you’ll be OK. I found out that I need subway route number 1 northbound towards uptown. After a quick ride, I ended up in Broadway & West 79th, walked two blocks south and here I am, at the “On the Ave” hotel.

Took me a minute to locate Jeroen. I never met him in my life—seen a picture though. We greeted each other and then went to the room so I can unload my baggage.

The hotel is very nice. Good amenities, excellent rooms. Huge flat‐screen TV in each room, and a bar‐fridge that warns you that the removal of any item for more than 20 seconds will result in the item being billed to your room. Insane. There are sensors there... an entire ordeal.

We continued talking as I was preparing for going outside. We left at around 1:30pm, and talked about all bunch of stuff all walking all the way to the venue, right in Central Park.

I didn’t see much of that venue, except for it being really small. A line‐up started to form, and had 5 people in it—three kids from Halifax (was really bizarre to me to see three kids, maybe 13 years old, coming all the way from Halifax to catch Mark Knopfler live), another nice guy whose name I didn’t get and another adult German who happened to be in town and decided to catch the Knopfler show. We were both hungry so we decided to hit the Boathouse restaurant, nearby the venue.

So the Boathouse appeared to have two parts to it—the part with the nice food in which you enter the place and get seated right near the water, and an “express” part which is little more than hamburger & fries. We chose the latter as we wanted to get in line early. We ordered a hamburger that turned out to be completely tasteless (Richard—steer clear!). To put it in Douglas Adams’ words, it tasted more or less entirely unlike a hamburger.

We continued talking and then headed to the venue, for the line‐up that still had those same 5 people. We all had a really nice talk about everything while waiting for the doors to open.

As time went by, I realized that the people working in the venue are... how to say it... not very knowledgeable about what’s going on. My ticket, as well as many other people’s, was in the Will Call but the Will Call tent was empty. Nobody (!) could tell us when the Will Call position will actually start working, until some guy working there mentioned “4:30pm”. This, of course, turned to be untrue.

About an hour later, we noticed two female volunteers nearby. I asked them about the Will Call, they didn’t even know what I’m talking about. They said that they would check, which they didn’t.

I started to get a bit nervous, as I was invited for the Meet & Greet, the time was close to 5:00pm when the doors open at 5:30pm, and I still didn’t have the ticket in my hand.

Then came by a guy who appeared to know what he’s talking about. “Listen everybody. If you are here to pick‐up your ticket, you are in the WRONG LINE”.

Thank you very much. It turned out that the Will Call people were supposed to form a line near the Will Call tent. Obviously nobody mentioned anything about it before, that’s why dozens of people kept going to the head of the line—to us—and ask us if we know anything about the Will Call procedure. The Will Call tent was scheduled to open at 5:30pm—exactly the same time as the doors are being opened to the crowd.

The line already stretched a few hundred feet. I had to leave my post, asking Jeroen very nicely if he could save my spot, to which he agreed. I went to the Will Call area, to a line‐up of about 100 feet. It started moving on 5:30pm. I noticed I’ll never be able to make my way back to the head of the line, as they condensed everybody into three files and it was crowded as hell.

I got my ticket and now wanted to ask the attendant there, some guy who looked important, what should I do if I’m invited to the Meet & Greet as I will definitely miss it if I have to stand in the line. Then I got to see a real case of what Guy once called (during the Shangri La tour) “a jobsworth with power”.

Before I even turned my head to ask him, he barked at me to stand behind the fence (which wasn’t there; he only put the fence later). I then told him I’d like to ask him a question. He just kept staring at me. I asked him what I wanted to ask him. He looked at me, pointed at the huge line, and said:

– “That’s the line”.

And simply went away.

Very helpful people.

As I was making my way towards the end of the line, I realized that there’s another entrance there with only a few people in it. I decided to check it out. It turned out that that was the line‐up for “special” people, like Meet & Greet invitees. Within minutes I checked in, and was told to go inside and that I will be instructed what to do there.

Going inside, I asked 3 people what I should do as a Meet & Greet guest. The first person told me doesn’t know what I’m talking about, and two others told me that the Meet & Greet, if there is such at all, will be performed *after* the concert is done. I quickly realized that employees’ ignorance here appears to be contagious and figured that I will have to actually scour the venue myself to find answers. I then realized that there’s a small stage beside the main stage, where I was supposed to enter and wait for further instructions.

So, from an organization perspective, this is by far the single worst venue I’ve ever been in and I can’t see any other venue breaking this record. People there really are not concerned with anything beyond the one single function that they are supposed to fulfill, and obviously there was no briefing before the concert. At least not a briefing to which workers actually listened. If you need an answer to a question, you better ask each and every worker individually—trust me, you’ll get different replies. You just have to check all options. Nobody there knows *anything* about what’s going on.

I should say that, once in that tiny VIP stage, everything went smooth.

I met a few interesting people inside the venue, including a writer who got an invitation from Richard after interviewing him a year ago. A few minutes later, some really important‐looking guy wearing a suit and a red tie has appeared, and then left, then appeared again and left. He was escorted by what looked like a body guard, a personal assistant or a combination thereof.

A few minutes later I saw Rudy Pensa. Not surprising, considering that Rudy’s guitar shop is in NYC. He, and some other people, wore a different tag—an orange one—which turned out to be “personal friends of the band”. Rudy shook hands with the guy next to me, then turned to me and shook my hand. I told him that I inquired in his store about an MK Pensa replica, identical to the one he played during “A Night in London” in 1996. He invited me to his store the next day. What a nice fellow! Very talkative, very friendly.

We were then escorted to the Meet & Greet. We were instructed to form a half‐circle around the band. I waved hello at everybody. Richard got up from his chair to shake hands with his friend, Rocky, who happened to stand right next to me. He then turned to me, shook my hand and introduced me to his friend.

Unlike the one in Boston, this one was very, very short. The band played some material that had nothing to do with Mark Knopfler although demonstrated the awesome musicianship of everybody. Then Mark went one by one shaking hands with about 30 people that were there. He either hasn’t recognized me at all or was just very much in rush—or both. As soon as the handshaking was over, we were told that it’s time to go. Some people rushed and insisted on taking pictures with Mark—which I found a bit rude as the man really appeared to be in a hurry. Myself, of course, hating to interrupt extremely busy people, decided to not add any more pressure to the pressure already in existence around Mark, and left the area.

I entered the standing area, after being barked by some security guard as to where it is exactly that I’m supposed to go. Got myself a drink and decided to look for Jeroen. So he actually saved a spot for me, about a meter left of the center at the very front row. What a great man!

Jesca’s show started at 7:00pm and she got some good cheers from the crowd. Then there was a break, Paul’s announcement and the concert kicked off at 7:55pm.

From there on, the experience was amazing. It’s the first and only standing‐only concert in the North American tour. So yes, you get to stand a lot but it is a lot of fun. It’s a much more dynamic experience. The crowd went crazy—definitely a loud crowd. Also, I noticed so many young people there. Perhaps we do have hope for the next generation of musicians. Perhaps there’s more than Britney Spears in our future.

The concert was very good. The band played well. Mark played very few off‐tones here and there but in general we’re talking about a great concert, a great experience for New York.

People insisted on filming the show, so Mark gave his now‐usual “thank you for not filming” statement. You have to be very naive to not realize the sarcasm in that statement.

Leaving the show was very easy as there’s no cars involved. Simply walked through the herds of people, exiting Central Park on our way back to the hotel. It started raining, which made the experience very interesting. Jeroen and I were hungry and decided to get some pizza. We ended up having some Chilean Empanadas and some pizza in a small pizza place on Amsterdam Avenue & West 77th. Delicious. Then went back to the hotel.

What a joyful day. And here is the place to thank the man who made it so enjoyable and easy for me—Jeroen Gerrits, who is visiting from Holland and incorporated some Mark Knopfler shows into his trip. He invited me to stay as a guest in his hotel room in NYC, as well as in Philadelphia and Miami Beach, saving me so much time & money looking for proper accommodation. He really is a great guy—Jeroen, THANK YOU for everything!

It’s a day‐off today, no show. So I’ll wander around the streets of NYC. It’s about time I do, after more than 5 years living in North America. I’ll drop by Rudy Pensa’s store to say hi, as well as discuss the possibility of placing an order for a guitar.

Cheers,
Isaac