A fevered dream, I am curling fetal-like in the heat, an innocent ant sizzling under the magnifying glass of a curious yet ultimately cruel nine year old boy.
Until now, I thought the term puddle of sweat was a cliche. But as I jump out of my bunk and look back-yes: an actual pooled reservoir of my much missed bodily fluids.
If this were home I would simply stumble to the bathroom and plant my mouth under the Kohler, sucking in the sweet city water as it turned lukewarm to cool.
But this is not home, I am instantly reminded. I look about my surroundings, see snoring degenerates strewn across the room like so many unmatched socks; a wilted hackey sack orb sits in the center of the tiled floor, resigned.
I lurch into the shared bathroom and run the fetid faucet water over my carotid artery, hoping to keep my blood from coming to a boil.
Heh. Did I mention Frankfurt was hot?
Checked the ol email at the hostel, caught up on the latest news
—wha? John Hughes dead!….we all were weepy until someone imformed us it was not Pink Flamingoes guy, but Breakfast Club guy! Eh….RIP, I guess…..
Hit the ground in Frankfurt, sadly on our own again as Mr. Benny left with Big Orange to take the ferry over to UK. We shall fly over to catch up with Adolescents and Damned it is decided. Bus to the plane to the train and we are in this seaside tackfest.
Into the Wintergardens, and it is Punk Rock Planet! Immediately met with some familiar and friendly faces:
Were given all access wristbands and shown about the massive complex by Mr. Soto, who ultimately planted us sidestage to watch the Damned with all of Punk Rock Royalty.
If a mischievious comet decided to obliterate this building on this night, you would be left with only Fall Out Boy as your Punk fix!!
Tomorrow we play, our final show of tour-M