PART TWO: "Cocktails On The Roof" (er, almost), "Supper's Ready", and Damn! SWL Peter Sure Looks Yummy On A Bigscreen
Part one ended with our little group (Joe, me, RP, and Celine) making its way to the Liberty Grand Exhibition Center by taxi. This typically wouldn't have been noteworthy, but I feel it was for two reasons: 1. you'll recall that only 50% of us had tickets to the event and the rest were taking their chances to wait outside in the cold hoping to buy tickets (which identifies them as totally devoted PG fans) from someone who just happened not to be able to use them but was still present at the venue.(shhh! don't say "scalpers"!) and, 2. the cabbie had no clue where this place was, so I was frantically trying to explain the map to him as he drove about 1000 miles an hour past what seemed like hundreds of bicyclists who were almost struck and killed by the mirror on my side of the cab. Finally through a combination of my getting a grip on my terror and sheer luck, we made it to the venue, and came to a screeching halt in front of an area that was marked, "Staff Parking Only". "Is this it?" Mr. I Have A Deathwish Cabbie asked. We all looked at each other, dazed. "Uh, yeah, this must be it---thanks!" and we quickly piled out into the parking lot, just as confused as he apparently was. Must've been the sudden G-force.
Remember that we weren't supposed to have cameras, so the pictures you're about to see were taken by Joe and me on Friday, when we went back to the venue and broke in. (It's amazing just how hospitable the guards at the Toronto Jail were, and, due to that Canadian/US Currency Exchange rate thing, bail was amazingly low!)
No, just kidding, they actually let us walk around and were very pleasant about it. Anyway, when we got to the parking lot, we looked up, and lo and behold, were treated to this very large, beautiful banner across the building.
This must be the place! We were about 60 minutes early as Celine and RP were taking their recent vow of "No tardiness, ever!" very seriously by this time.
Celine and RP were meeting their French friend, Claire, at the Liberty Grand, and when she appeared, introductions were made and we chatted for awhile before I realized that my sprained right foot was about to turn gangrenous from the cold (no right shoe---cast and black hose), and that I was actually standing in a puddle of rainwater. Feeling very remorseful that none of them had tickets, but not wanting to lose the foot completely, (I'm sure you can understand) we apologized profusely and went inside, leaving them to wait and test their luck.
Once inside, we looked around this breathtaking but almost empty facility. This picture shows the main lobby area on Friday but imagine it filled with hundreds of people (99.99% of whom were dressed completely in black) all reveling in the excitement of the evening that was to come! Before anyone else arrived, I began a pursuit of a Ladies' Room, (must've been that cab ride) and the staff was extremely helpful. Since they didn't want to make me go down two flights of stairs, they instead made me walk about half a mile to the other side of the complex! This had a really wonderful benefit, however. A garden area separated the two buildings from one another, with this tent all lit up with tiny white lights. (See picture). The best part was that as we walked through, "Passion" was being piped in on the PA system. EEEE! Shivers!The staff member who had been assigned to take me to the Ladies' Room, Diana, was very friendly and talked about how everyone on the staff was such a big fan of Gabriel's and how they had all been singing his songs to one another all day. "kind of like a Peter Gabriel karaoke," was her description!
By the time I returned from the journey to the rest room, people were starting to arrive and they were milling about the main lobby. We were supposed to be meeting our Newsgroup Friends Ian (he posts as IT) and Charlotte, and Tracey (posting as Sharkbait) and Tim, and through careful scrutiny of all the black-clothed patrons, we eventually made contact. This was highly emotional, as you can tell from Tracey's first words to me upon our meeting: "You BITCH!" Ahem. Of course, this was after I had just told her, without even saying hello, that we saw Gabriel at our hotel about an hour before. We can't really blame her, can we? No.
Six o'clock came and the staff led us all out the double doors, through that lovely garden, and into the other building where we were going to.what? None of us knew. Was this where we'd have dinner? We followed them blindly, of course, and saw this entryway into a very long room (see pic-the slate areas on either side of the arch had bubbling waterfalls running down them, very pleasant). Was Gabriel actually in there? Well, no, but it was a grand experience just the same. Tuxedoed waiters carrying trays of wonderful cocktails and a wide array of hot hors d'oeuvres greeted us and offered us to partake. Well, partake we did, and we excitedly compared notes about each drink and bite to eat. I think I can speak for the group of the six of us when I say that we were all just a bit mesmerized by what we were experiencing.
The conversation gradually turned to how we all had gotten involved with PG's music, and twisted and turned to include Genesis, the value or lack thereof of Phil Collins (Ian was outvoted on this subject, by the way, but he took this in a good-natured manner) and the ever non-existent and/or highly fluid release date of UP. Collective group sigh, sorrowful laments, and much head shaking all around. We also attempted to discuss our other interests, and were not surprised, really, to find out that none of us had any. Well, wait, I take that back. Ian likes to write to PG using his personal email address: petergabriel@hotmail.com and the rest of us like to tease him mercilessly when he actually believes he has received a personal response! Other than that, nothing.
We were all enjoying this heretofore unpublicized cocktail party immensely (Who wouldn't have? Unlimited drinks and incredibly tasty things served to you on trays by wandering men in tuxedos!) when all of a sudden, the double doors at the end of this very long room swung open with a bang and the sound of thundering drums and other percussion instruments made our hearts leap into our throats. Oh my God! Was Peter coming in playing one of those drums? Manu? David? Tony? The look on everyone's face was the same: a combination of disbelief, excitement (something was happening!) frozen wide-eyed smiles, and not too small an amount of confusion! Remember, this was a very long room and the group of about 30 drummers and percussionists was moving fairly slowly, playing deafeningly loud drums, so it took this drumming group quite a lengthy amount of time to reach the hypnotized group having cocktails and staring at them with awe!
It turns out that they were all wearing T-shirts that said "Samba Squad" on them, and there was quite an assortment of musicians in this group (old, young, male, female, pierced and non-pierced, tattooed and non-tattooed). Upon further research, they are a group that is based in Canada, and they specialize in "Brazilian Drumming and Rhythms". (If you ever have a chance to see them, GO!) They were breathtaking as they pounded on and shook all types of instruments. At one point one of the men blew a whistle, and taking this as our signal to participate in the spectacle in some way, we drew in around them, and enveloped them from behind as they made their way out the doors at the other end of the room and back through the garden again. We were then led to the entrance to the dining room. The drumming went on and on until everyone was seated.
The dining room was also very long, and there were two entrances to it. Not wanting to wait in line to get in, we walked down the hall to the other entrance, which was actually supposed to be exclusively for the American Express people (they were a corporate sponsor) but we went in there anyway, and since it was general seating at tables of ten, we quickly tried to insure that we'd be able to sit together. As luck would have it, we were all able to sit at the table that you see in the forefront in this picture. If you look at the wall on the right, you can see two very large white screens separated by a table. That's where Peter sat for dinner, so we had a bird's eye view of the man himself as we all dined (after we realized that he was there, of course, which was quite a bit later, actually-strange, we all expected him to be with the Samba Squad pounding on a drum, but not actually at a table eating dinner at a dinner in his honor. Go figure!)
With the Samba Squad's work done for now, we turned our attention to the other four unfamiliar people at the table, with whom we'd be spending the dining portion of the evening. There was a lovely young Canadian couple celebrating their anniversary, Angela and Tad, and then two gentlemen who spoke into one another's ears in hushed tones all evening and never once said one word to the rest of us. Perhaps they were frightened by our enthusiasm? Or could it have been that I was furiously scribbling notes with a blue light-up pen between bites of dinner, sips of a wonderful red wine, and conversation? Perhaps it was that Ian kept talking about that damn hotmail address, or something. Anyway, their loss!
When the Samba Squad ended their wonderful drumming, we quieted down fairly quickly, and listened to two speeches. First was the President of the Harbourfront Centre and next was the President of American Express, who stated that his wife was "a big Peter Gabriel fan", which was met with thunderous applause. We listened patiently to them for quite awhile before any of us at the table (except perhaps the two Whispering Guys, and they weren't telling!) realized that Gabriel himself was seated about three tables in front of us between the two big screens. "Oh my GOD! There he is!" "Where???" "Right THERE!" The look of realization on all our faces was priceless, and it's just too damn bad that I didn't have that disposable camera shoved in my cast instead of the tape recorder!
Anyway, the tables were set beautifully and on each plate was placed a menu for the evening. We had been told previously by a staff member that the menu was chosen "with Mr. Gabriel in mind" but for the life of me, I couldn't understand where they got the Veal Tenderloin with Spatzle of all things! For those of you who are not aware, Gabriel is a vegetarian but does eat seafood, and Spatzle is a small German dumpling, which is very tasty, particularly the way it was prepared that night. My fears about the prawns were unfounded, but I did attempt several times to pass off my salmon appetizer to my tablemates, at one point actually offering it to the Whispering Guys, but they ignored me, and simply continued to, predictably, whisper to one another. Coulda been the notetaking. Dunno. Sigh.
As we were beginning the meal, we were treated to a wonderful thing on those two bigscreensSecret World Live was being played and it was an incredible experience to see and hear it very loud in mammoth proportions like that, particularly with Gabriel so nearby. We tried to see if there was any type of facial expression from him when it came on, but to no avail. Suffice it to say that SWL-Era Peter looks damn good on a screen that large. Trust imagination.
In talking with our new friends Angela and Tad, we uncovered an interesting, but hardly surprising, story. It seems that they were celebrating their wedding anniversary. Angela had called originally for the tickets, and was offered several seating options for the tribute portion of the evening. She could either have two seats together in a row back by ours (Row N, remember??! EEEE!) or, she could have a seat in Row B, and the same seat behind that one in Row C. Guess what she took? You've got it! The two closer, but separated seats. However, they still hadn't determined which of them was going to be lucky enough to sit in Row B. The women at our table told her that we would help her arm wrestle Tad for that seat in Row B! I don't know how it turned out, but I'd be willing to bet my PG autograph (foreshadowing) that Angela was sitting closer.oh, wait, I've just been told by Joe that Tad walked out of the dining room with the Row B ticket, (must've been a male-bonding moment when this was confessed), and stated confidently, "It may be our anniversary, but I'm not giving it up!" Hmm. Get rid of him, Angela. :)
There was a lull for a bit between the clearing of the main course and the serving of dessert. We noticed that several people had risen from their seats, and made something of a processional toward Mr. Gabriel's table, as if in an effort to speak directly to him. Ian decided that he was going to join the line and rose from his seat to do so. I had an uneasy feeling about this but figured if he was going to go up, I'd go too, and then Tracey and Tim decided to join us as well. Well, wouldn't you know it, but a very scary looking Security Man With Headset stood right in front of the table, arms folded, as if to indicate that PG was off-limits, even though he had risen from his seat perhaps to talk to us, and dejectedly we hung our heads in shame and trudged back to the table to await dessert. I did share my "We Saw PG In The Hotel Lobby and He Smiled At Me" story with several new friends from other tables who were trudging back with me, so it wasn't a total loss.
Dessert was served (an absolutely heavenly flourless chocolate cake with a mound of whipped crème a mile high, almost as yummy as Gabriel on that bigscreen) and once again, the Samba Squad burst through the double doors pounding loudly, but this time came to stand on a staircase to the back of the room. This was quite an impressive sight, and they now encouraged us to quickly finish our slice of heaven and follow along to the auditorium for the "tribute/hommage" portion of the evening. However, they encouraged the Guest Of Honor to make his way out first, and thus began Golden Gabriel Moment #2 of the evening.
You'll recall that he was about three tables ahead of us, and he began to wind his way in between the first and second rows of tables. The people who had gotten up to talk to him earlier and had faced rejection were now vilified! As he walked by each table, guests stood up and he shook each and every hand and spoke a few words to each one of us. I remember trying to decide if I should attempt to stand (the ankle, you know) or just stay put, and he actually reached down to me, took my hand and I said, "Good evening, Mr. Gabriel" to which he replied, "Good evening." His hands are very soft, by the way, and warm. And dry. Oh my. And, the great thing is, there is a picture that goes with this part of the story, taken the next morning from our hotel room bathroom. Don't be scared, you'll quickly see what I mean!
Kari sez: "I'll never wash my hand again!"
Took a minute to recover from GGM #2, of course, but as we filed into the auditorium we noticed this great sign lighting our way (see lighted sign of the honorees-he's the third one down from the top!), and also this sign that warned us about cameras and recording devices.oh well, thought I, that doesn't apply to Official Solsburian Business, does it? No. As we walked into the auditorium, we saw that it also was a long narrow room, (just what is it with these Canadians and their long, narrow rooms, anyway?) with a small stage in the center, above which hung large screens on either side, with rows of chairs set up in tiers at either end of the stage. We were struck by what an intimate setting this was, and remembering what the Harbourfront Centre President had said about only 600 tickets being available for purchase, we were counting our lucky stars at that point that we had gotten them! We were truly going to be up close and personal at this tribute.
I have to tell you that I did tape record the entire hommage, basically right out in the open with the recorder on my lap, and it was a good thing that I did that, because once things started happening in that theatre, it was hard to keep up! I was attempting to take detailed notes but to no avail. I wanted to be able to experience what was taking place to the fullest, and the tape has aided me greatly in remembering the chronology of events.
There was one frightening moment, however. The place was crawling again with head-setted security people, and when I used the illuminated Gabesabre to write something down, one of them came running over, got in my face and hissed, "You can't have a camera in here!" I calmly stated that it wasn't a camera, and held it up to show her that it was a pen. Meanwhile she practically had her head an inch away from the TAPE RECORDER that was in my lap, but she argued with me that I couldn't have that camera! I just kept telling her that it was a PEN, and clicking it on and off to prove it. Finally she got tired of this game and relented, leaving me to take my occasional notes, and record the tribute in peace. Sheesh!
This takes us on to Part Three, in which I describe a glorious evening, and learn that, luckily, you can't trust Mr. Canadian Hommage Ticket Seller when he issues cautionary statements regarding the lack of performances before booking your tickets.