Prelude One
I apologize if this report is excruciatingly detailed and mostly autobiographical. I've decided this story isn't about the concert or press conference, but it's about the lunatics/Solsburians/Gabefans and what they do for each other. It's also for those who wonder what my head sounds like:)
It all started about a month and a half ago. I heard from one of my valued sources in the music biz, let's call him Dave, wrote me and said that Gabriel was doing a pre-concert gig in NY on Sept. 25. As soon as I heard that, I made plans to go. Solsburian comrade and philosophical sparring partner Scott had given me a standing invitation to crash at his place with his roommate should I ever find myself in NY. I told Scott of the concert and to look out for tickets to go on sale. I also told him to expect me there for the concert.
Scott told me that he was flying to Italy to go to the Sept. 18 Milan gig, and would fly back on Sept. 24. I thought that was cutting things close, but it would still work out...I'd try to fly in the same time Scott did, and then the next evening we'd go to the concert. I asked for that week off of work.
But as time drew closer with no official news, I started to get worried. My hopes were still up as I discovered Gabriel was doing several tv appearances in NY around the time of the 25th. But still, no news of actual ticket sales. I didn't want to broadcast the news on the Hill, let alone book a flight, unless I knew it was a sure thing.
I finally decided to e-mail someone else who was typically in the know: Freelance journalist Chris Rubin. I met him years ago when he posted a message on the newsgroup asking for questions to ask Gabriel as he was interviewing him for E! Online. I was interested in a career in journalism so I asked him for guidance and advice. He encouraged me to submit an article to my favorite magazine, Mac Today and even edited the piece for me before I sent it in, and it got published. Soon afterward I decided that a career in journalism wasn't for me, but I was grateful the the help and though it it was cool that Rubin got to interview Gabriel.
I hadn't heard from Chris in a year, but when news of Up rolled around, we got back in touch. I wrote him asking if he knew anything about the NY gig. Chris said that he was going to NY and he was expecting to see PG perform there, but he also asked not to publish the info. I started to get excited at the prospect at seeing PG in concert, and Chris and I agreed to meet before the show.
Then Chris wrote me to say that Gabriel's promoter advised Chris not to go to NY just for the concert, as it might not actually happen. That wasn't a good sign. Then Dave wrote back...the concert had been "killed". I was not a happy camper, but I tried to salvage the situation by trying to get into O'Brian, Carson Daily, and even tried to pull strings to get backstage for the Charlie Rose show. Nothing worked out, so a week before the 25th I cancelled my vacation at work and informed Scott and Chris that I wasn't going to NY.
Chris wrote back asking, "Would you come to NY for a press conference?"
I honestly wasn't sure...I thought I'd rather see a performance. Chris wasn't certain where or when in NY the conference would take place. And I didn't think I could get myself in, seein's I'm not a professional journalist. Chris said he didn't have any pull to get me in, but said I should e-mail Annie, a woman in charge of the press conference, to see if I could get on the press list.
I
told Chris I'd think about it. My inner journalist was intrigued
at the prospect, but I felt that it wasn't worth the trip, and
I just didn't
belong at a press conference. Then Chris forwarded me a press
release with the specifics of when (Sept. 24th) the press conference
would be held. It was also revealed that Gabriel would perform
three songs. I saw that Chris had included Annie's e-mail address
with the press release, and curiosity got the better of me: If
I told them straight-up I was just a lowly fanpage webmaster,
could I get an invite?
So I wrote Annie:
I didn't think much would come of it. Before he left for Italy, I warned Scott that I might be coming to NY after all. He assured me I still had a place to stay on the 24th. But then I hadn't heard back from Annie. Hm. I knew I wouldn't get in. I thought.
But then on Wednesday night, I got an e-mail from Annie. I was invited, Gabriel was going to perform for thirty minutes and the venue was the Supper Club on Manhattan. I quickly decided: I am *so* there!
My adrenaline was pumping! I wrote Chris and told him I was going. I called my mom and told her I was going. Then I started to look up flights...I figured I could get a super-early flight and make it in time for the press conference. I'd take a cab directly to the Supper Club. I found the earliest flight out of Tampa was 7 am, to be in NY around 9:40 am. That's cutting things real close, but calculated I could make it. I found a NY map on line an decided that even with traffic, it shouldn't take two hours to get from LaGuardia to the Supper Club.
I was all set to purchase a ticket when I had a horrifying thought: What if my flight was delayed? Even if it were delayed by a little bit, I could easily miss the conference, or at least the first half of it, and that wouldn't do. Then all of that time and money would be a total waste. I just couldn't risk it.
I desperately searched for an earlier flight, or a red-eye. Nothing. The earliest flight would come into NY around 10 pm on Sept. 23...too long for me to loiter around the airport. I couldn't stay with Scott because he wouldn't be in from Italy until around 1 pm the next day. I checked for hotels...*way* too expensive on such short notice.
I slowly came to the painful realization that this wasn't gonna work.
I screamed. I cried. I threw things. Then I called Mom and sobbed to her. In an act of solidarity, she screamed, cried and threw things too. After talking with her, I screamed and cried some more. My neighbors must've loved me.
When I was finally able to settle down, I thought of one last-ditch effort to make this work. There was a fellow Floridian who wrote the Hill years ago...Margaret. I hadn't heard from her in eons, until the news on Up started rolling in, and she wrote to say she still loved Gabe, still read the Hill and had since moved to NY and had a career in theater. I wrote her weeks before, but as she was incredibly busy, I hadn't heard back from her since.
I wrote her an Obi-Wan-Kenobi-You're-My-Only-Hope e-mail, explaining the situation and begged her let me crash at her place on Sept. 23. I gave her my home and work numbers.
The next day, I watched my e-mail and phone messages. Nothing. I went to bed feeling that this just wasn't meant to be.
Friday, mid-afternoon, while I was at my Day Job, I got a call. It was Margaret. "Yes, you can stay at my place." I was totally thrown...I had pretty much given up by this point.
"THANK
YOU! Um, where in NY do you live, by the way?"
"About two blocks from the Supper Club." She later informed
me that she could look out the door of her apartment building,
look down the street, and see the awning for the Club. I knew
then: This was my destiny!
Margaret said she had to go, and said I should call her the next day. After I hung up, I begged my supervisor to let me off for Tuesday and Wednesday. As no one at work knew I had a website, had trouble explaining why I was invited to a press conference. Once I explained there was an actual performance involved, she understood and arranged to let me have those days off. I thanked her profusely, and made plans.
Saturday, I called Margaret back, we talked a bit and she gave me directions to her place. I offered to try to let her in on the press conference (Chris suggested that if I had a friend bring a large camera, I could get them in as my photographer) but she said she had to work that day. I suggested that we could meet up at the concert in Madison Square Garden, in November, but she said she would be on tour with her theater group. So I offered to take her and her boyfriend out to dinner. She seemed agreeable with that.
My parents happened to be visiting Tampa that weekend to see the Apple Store. I informed them I was going to NY after all, staying with people I've never actually met and here's Moxie for you to take care of while I'm away.
I decided not to announce my attendance at the press conference on the Hill. For one thing, I didn't want to jinx it. Second, I thought it would be a nice surprise when I posted the news on the Hill after the fact. Third, I didn't want to seem like I was rubbing it in to those who couldn't go because they weren't considered "the press", especially when I was hardly qualified. However, I did tell a few trusted friends at the chat room that I was going, and was called "lucky bastard" so much I was beginning to think it was my first name.
I knew I needed to think up some questions to ask. I wrote my friend James and asked if he had any ideas. He suggested that I don't ask a question that's too "softball" and has been asked a zillion times, but don't ask a question that's too difficult or complicated either. Quote James, "It's an interesting position to be in as 1. you don't know what will have been asked before your chance comes along 2. avoiding the trap of asking the questions that makes his hair fall out 'cos they've been asked over and over again....am I making you sweat yet?"
I replied, "Sweat? Thanks to this statement, there is more sweat in my apartment than there was fake blood in the BWS video."
I also told James that the only questions I had so far was, ""If you were in a sex contest with Billy Joel, which one of you would win?" and "So, what's it like being a tool for Microsoft?" We both quickly agreed that I needed to work on my questions.
Monday rolled around, and I was all packed. I came home from work at 4:30pm, I told the cab company to be at my place at 4:45pm. Before leaving, I checked my e-mail and learned that Radio Real World had announced that the Supper Club gig was open to the first 75 Gabefans that showed up. My heart sank...not because of the news, which was wonderful, but because if I had known just a bit earlier, I would have gladly broadcast the news on the Hill, and also told people to look out for me. Oh well, I thought. Most people read RRW so the word will get out, and I'll just have to do some name dropping of the Hill when I talk to the fans waiting in line.
I flew into NY around 9 pm, and the view from the plane of New York at night is breathtaking. City lights as far as I could see. The plane landed and I caught a cab, gave the driver the address, and soon we were in Manhattan, driving down 47th street. We drove past all of those huge, elaborate signs you see in bumper shots on Letterman and even caught a glimpse of Radio City Music Hall down another street. Then, I saw the Supper Club. Joy!
I discovered that Margaret literally lived a half a block from Times Square. This visit was destiny. After getting out of the cab, I found Margaret's name on the intercom, and I pressed it. The intercom didn't seem to be working right at all, so I never got the opportunity to use the "Are you there Margaret? It's me, God." line that I had been practicing. I was buzzed in and found the right apartment (Apartment "G" as in "Gabriel") and was warmly welcomed by Margaret and her boyfriend, Aaron.
One look at their small apartment and as soon as I saw the Real World colorbar on their video and cd collection, I knew I had found My People. My first time meeting either of them and we hit it off, and we talked non-stop for an hour. We had so much in common it was scary...I found that she too loved Wallace and Gromit, Dr. Katz and MST3K. We discussed movies, shows, and dreams. Aaron was a wonderful guy who seemed totally accepting of the fact that his girl invited some strange woman she met on the Internet stay at their place. Margaret told me about her work in the theater (She noted that she usually played the "evil" stepmother, witch, or sister in all of these children's theater shows she's working on. "Maybe they're trying to tell me something!" she joked.) To top everything off, she even tried to play "Solsbury Hill" on her ukulele.
Only one down point to the whole meeting...Margaret and Aaron said that they both had to work the next night, so I wouldn't be able to take them out to dinner. I felt bad as I wanted to do something for them, and really couldn't think of anything else.
It was getting late so we worked out sleeping arrangements...the living room also was the one and only bedroom, so I slept on the couch, while my hosts slept on a mattress on the floor. It was awkward having my generous hosts sleep on the floor, but they assured me that they were more comfortable that way.
I borrowed Aaron's copy of The Little Prince and decided to read some of it before going to sleep. I remembered reading that Mike Rutherford suggested that Genesis do a concept album around The Little Prince, but Gabriel thought it was too "twee" and instead wound up writing The Lamb Lies Down on Broadway. I had never read The Little Prince, so I wondered if Gabriel was right (Conclusion: It is too twee, and I don't even know what "twee" means). After reading for an hour, I went to sleep.
Nothing to do with this report, but isn't Moxie cuuuuuute?