Danse Macabre II Memories


As posted to alt.gothic:

Date: Tue, 8 Sep 1998 17:43:45 -0400

From: silentq 

Newsgroups: alt.gothic

Subject: Boston and Danse Macabre II (or: why silentq should take up a life of

crime) [long]

Labour Day Weekend, Sept 4-7 1998

I seem to have perfected the projection of the "sweet, innocent, she can't possibly be doing anything wrong" vibe. (shut up, Ron)

I had miscalculated just how long it would take me to drive the projected 1000km or so and ended up at the border crossing far too late to expect that I'd make it to Boston at any reasonable hour of the night. Yet, when I told the border guard that that was where I was going, to "visit friends" until Monday, I was waved through. No ID check, no search, nothing. Though I suppose if I was smuggling, I'd be nervous or something and they'd catch me right away. But then I managed to speed my way across upstate New York, passing numerous patrol cars flashing gleefully behind other drivers.

This was all in an effort to rescue my plans for Labour Day weekend, down in flames due to the Air Canada strike. I had wanted to see the Cruxshadows, but now there was no way I could arrive for the Friday night festivities. So I bought another Bauhaus ticket instead, since they were playing last Saturday in Boston, coincidently enough. :) Ron offered crash space and local guide duties and so I took off after work on Friday determined to drive from Toronto to Boston.

Despite the oddities of the trip there, I finished my first solo road trip of more than 3 hours with only minor shakes due to stopping just twice. I managed to decode the directions to Ron's house while negotiating late night traffic in Boston (I just realised something: I survived driving in Boston! Someone give me an award or something. :) ), parked, and went to ring the door bell. No answer. Panicked despite the note on the door promising that he'd be back half an hour ago. Ran down the street to the pay phone and called his answering machine and listened to the message saying that I was supposed to call hours ago with an updated ETA. Ooops. Went and locked myself in my car in the hope that no one would break in and get me before he got back from the first night of DM.

Luckily, he showed up minutes later and directed me to sleep before I fell over.

I woke up, as usual in a strange city, far too early, and puttered about quietly getting ready for the day. The alarm goes off and Ron sees me sitting there all dressed for sight seeing, doing my nails, and gives me a look of disgust as he attempts to wake up and get ready. I think it was then that he got Lady B to hang up on him in disgust as he disguised his voice while attempting to figure out where we'd meet for the concert that night. He called her back and cleared things up and we headed out for breakfast. We ended up at a place called The 50's Diner. Didn't get too many strange looks as we wolfed down copious amounts (well, Ron did, wolf copious amounts that is) of breakfast grease, then we hit the T to head down to South Station and... The Computer Museum (ref. post titled CyberLove Mania).

I had decided that I had a moral imperative to play with the Virtual Fishtank, and we saved it for last. The walk through computer was fun, and we saw some interesting videos of computer animations - the most impressive were from the movie "The Rock", I couldn't tell which were effects until they showed us the wireframe overlays. Far too many children were running around, and tons of the computers were out of order, but we did find one with an internet hookup so we could browse C4 pictures (making sure to clear the cache before we left so that no small children would be traumatised, say by images of goths with sheep) and post. :) Eventually we made our way to the fishtank room and played with the fishies. An essay on the irony of Ron tagging his fish with a smiley face is left as an exercise for the reader. It ate a lot. Mine got overwritten when a sprog stole the terminal that I created it on and made one of their own. It was a fun, childlike afternoon (ref Ron setting off the alarm by touching one of the dummies in the display scenarios) and we ended it off by sitting on the dock next to the Boston Tea Party boat and eating fried dough - a food concept that I just don't get. I ate *so* much grease this weekend. *sigh*

We managed to find the T again and got back to change and wait for Curt who was to drive us to the Harbour Lights Pavilion for the concert. I managed to get ready in about 10 minutes before being told that he'd be there in 45 minutes, so I read and watched TV while Ron fussed. :) Photos were taken of all our finery by a saintly Curt. We gave up on meeting Lady B and Cusraque before show time, but managed to spot The Hat when we arrived. I picked up my ticket after showing copious proof that I was who I said I was - so much for fooling authority but the woman didn't seem to be too clear on what was going on anyways - and we were in.

Harbour Lights is an odd place - it's an open tent thingy on the water, and I was glad I brought a jacket due to the breeze. Vendors were set up in an arc around the outside of the tent, so food and drinks and t-shirts were purchased. No touques, I guess they were just at the Toronto show. We sat at some tables where we had a view of the stage and decided that we'd stay back here somewhere instead of attempting to find our seats since there were in three different areas. People started applauding the stage hands, calmed down a bit, then jumped up when the opening strains of the concert proper began. We moved up onto a small rise where there were trees planted and had a view straight to the stage over everyone's heads. It was good. I missed a certain ghost a lot when they played Passion of Lovers. :) Bela was much more fun when I could *see* Peter swooping about the stage. The sound quality was better than I was expecting for an open venue, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself.

Well, until trying to find everyone else who we were supposed to go to DMII with, negotiating rides and the rock strewn parking lot and the traffic jam that ensued as everyone tried to escape the environs of the venue, with me sitting crushed in the back seat of Curt's car (would *you* have sat on Ron's lap? Didn't think so. :) ) with wood chips all over the hem of my dress. But it was an adventure and eventually we made it to The Greek American Political Club, apparently close to Man Ray, but I didn't spot that until the next night.

I presented my ID to the smart ass DC native (and just where is Xyd these days, anyway?) working the door and almost fell for it when he said that he couldn't let me in. Ron and Macross (I didn't get to see the SSV this time, wah!) convinced him/me that I could go in and I sneaked past, getting a $2 discount as I recalled my Bauhaus stub though it had disappeared in my bag of holding[tm]. The first band (Serpenteens I think) was just finishing up as we got in, so I got a chance to talk to a few people I'd met before (glamboy! Ph0ebus!) and meet some new ones (you had names? next time wear a laminate :) ). Figurehead was next. Both bands weren't really my cup of tea, being more gothic metal than anything else. The Brickbats were up last and almost killed themselves for real at the end of their (loud) set - the singer pushed the bassist off into the crowd then dove onto the drummer, bringing the light rig down on top of both of them. After checking for injuries (I think the bassist was out for a bit) they offered to do an encore but it was 1am and the bass was broken. Lady B headed off for the last 20 mins of Man Ray's 80s night and Curt, Ron and I headed out to eat at the infamous DeliHaus.

Ron seems to have this incessant need to touch things - he came *this* close to breaking the glass by the cashier at DeliHaus (clearly labeled Do Not Touch) but they let us in anyways. A divine spinach knish later and I felt a bit more human, ready to sleep in preparation for Day II in Boston. My plan was foiled as we ended up talking until close to dawn and then being assaulted by the kids in the neighbourhood deciding that far too fsking early Sunday morning is the ideal time to make lots of noise. The damn sun didn't help either.

Woke up for real at 4pm after closing windows, burrowing under the covers and having the thoughts of leg traps drive away the kids, and attempted to find a place that was selling the boots I was considering buying. Failed to find my size at a reasonable price, and grabbed some Chinese food (yummy! okay, I lied, it wasn't all greasy food this weekend). I then dragged Ron for a walk along the Charles River since I was feeling full after the meal and wanted to walk off some of the stiffness that was belatedly setting in after the long drive. A large fish did a passable impersonation of the Charles River Monster and we sat on a creaky dock and told horror movie stories until the couple that showed up to neck moved away from us. Off to the venue for night three (well, two for me) of DMII.

I got to talk to Columbine a bit this time - thanks again for putting on a good weekend, even though I never did get to any of the day time activities - and was reintroduced to a couple from Detroit that I'd met the Sunday of C4. My short term memory being what it is (ie bad) I still don't remember their names, nor the real name of Basingstoke from a.g.f despite a shared love of JtHM and cool tights. Saw some interesting dance moves to the spinning of Lady B and JavieR - the hand puppet from "Where the Wild Things Are" was a more accomplished dancer than some people I've seen. :) Mill mill mill. Socialise socialise socialise. Found out that I did recognise Eartha as she sped by to vend, confirmed as I bought a CD from her. For any fans of this former Machine in the Garden member, she's going to be involved with a project called Sphere (as heard over the music, it at least sounds like that) with an album in the next year or so.

Trance to the Sun came on. Tonight was a more laid back set of bands, and I enjoyed the music more, even though I was close to falling asleep - it was a good kind of falling asleep. :) Though I have to agree with Lady B's comment that the lead singer had the stage presence of a limp penis[tm LB]. They did a 50 minute set and then the stage got rearranged for Faith and Disease. They weren't very lively either but kept me captivated from the first a cappella number through the flute pieces, and I bought their CD.

This time I got to experience the wrench of saying goodbye to everyone as I acknowledged that I had to leave the next day. Nothing apparently goes on in Boston on Sunday nights, so we split up and sleep was taken in preparation for driving home.

Finding a place to eat breakfast on Labour Day Monday was a challenge. The Diner was closed, Bickfords was crowded, and IHOP was closed. We crept back to Bickfords and put our names back on the list and tried to be patient until a table became free. While waiting I went and bought some cat food for when I got home and had to appease my feline. I got a bonus apple cinnamon crepe since the chef screwed up my order, but still, time flew by and I didn't start home until 2pm.

I decided to go home via Montreal since that's what we'd done after C2, mostly so I could look for the tiny country shop that sold Ben and Jerry's Ice cream and clove candies. Missed it, took a detour on a back road, but found the border eventually and got waved through yet again. Rain, fog and construction dogged me, and fatigue was starting to set in, so I visited most of the service centres between Montreal and Toronto. All this led to not getting home until 2am, 2 hours and 150 km longer than the drive there. But I made to work this morning. Not that I've *done* anything but I'm here. :)

Thanks to Ron for convincing me that I should go anyways and for being a great host, Columbine and Bauhaus for providing the excuse, and everyone I hung out with for making it a great trip. It was worth the drive, though I wouldn't want to have done it from Detroit - I probably should have gotten up a bit earlier and caravanned it back along I90 with Mac and the Detroit couple, but oh well. I christened my car when we made it back safe and sound, so thanks to Sally for not breaking down in the middle of Vermont or someplace with equally widely spaced exits.


Back to my diary page.