[Brigitte Mounier]

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Well I sat down in the bus...See, I decided to go by bus so I could 
use the time to study on the way. For everyone's info, I didn't even 
crack the book open. Sigh...

Ok, so I sit in the bus and a nice young man sits next to me. Now I 
am blessed, or cursed, with a particularly acute sense of smell and 
this young man smelled like he hadn't touched water in days or weeks. 
Just my luck. Half suffocated, I try to bury my nose in my coffee and 
at the first stop, I spring to another seat.
Much nicer. I even had the chance, later on, to bottle feed a nice 
little chubby black baby, while his mother was eating. Babies and 
animals, I can't resist.
Now after feeding that chubby black baby, you can understand how 
meeting the Oils, which are not chubby, not black, and don't drink 
from a baby bottle anymore (AS FAR AS I KNOW), well, it pales in 
comparison.

So I'm in New York and I get a cab down to the venue, with a can of 
Coke in my hand. Not a good idea. The cab drivers in NY seem to know 
only two paces: fast forward and complete stop. It makes for a VERY 
jerky ride and forget about drinking from a can. But then, when the 
driver ahead of him gave him a long, pointed finger and my cabbie got 
out and started yelling at him and a fist fight seemed imminent, I 
had the time to drink my Coke peacefully. They didn't exchange 
punches but I think it came very close. So I finally make a 
triomphant arrival at the Bowery ballroom.

Peter arrives in very much the same manner ten minutes later. Some 
people walk over to him and surround him, but he looks so alone and 
defenceless that I stay put. He eyes my Powderworks shirt and gives 
me a discreet thumbs up with his Peter-grin.

While waiting I met some very nice people, on top of the nice ones I 
already knew, no names,  you guys know who you are. I enjoyed the 
chats, it made for very pleasant waiting.
The whole band exits from the depths of the place and leaves. Bones 
has time to share with us that he just paid 750$ to have his dog's 
inflammed tooth extracted.
Do I win the prize for the most useless piece of info relayed on the list????

Rob stays behind cause he says he has a photo shoot. Now, remember, 
I'm the film industry girl. You tell me photo shoot, I see props, 
white pannels, lights, cameras, make-up, the whole set-up. But Rob's 
world is simpler than that. In Rob's world, a photo shoot takes, 
well, a subject: him and his small drums, a person with a camera: 
Susan, the girl from the anti-nuke association, and a background: a 
truck and a pile of garbage bags. Away they shoot. Robs jumps up in 
the air repeatdely. But you can tell he's not used to cameras, 
because instead of staying in the air, holding the pose, he falls 
right back down each time.

Bit later, the lounge opens and then comes the truly extraordinary 
moment of my evening. A wonderful Powderworker introduces the Sierra 
Nevada beer to me! Darn that's some GOOD beer!!! Now I can die happy. 
But why die so young so I decide to wait a bit. At least until after 
the show.

The show, well, you've had the reports. Indeed, second only to the 
Montreal show as far as energy and electricity. Brilliant time.

Busy after party show. The boys their sweet patient selves. By the 
way, a note on Maurice worried about Europe. They did say the SECOND 
part of the year for Europe. And they're following the 2 Euro dates 
this week with 3 weeks off back home. So they obviously don't mind so 
much the traveling back and forth. I wouldn't worry too much. (But 
no, I don't have inside info on that.)

Now for the record, I would like to mention that Nina got a totally 
unasked, 100% free, fully unexpected hug from Rob with the words, and 
I quote: "Good to see you again". But everything is ok now, I talked 
to her a while ago and she HAS stopped shaking. :)

Next morning, I take a nice, leisurly walk back to the bus station, 
confirming what I aready knew: I hate New York. It's my version of an 
urban nightmare. ( No offence New Yorkers!)

Curtain folks!

Brigitte

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<div>Well I sat down in the bus...See, I decided to go by bus so I
could use the time to study on the way. For everyone's info, I didn't
even crack the book open. Sigh...</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Ok, so I sit in the bus and a nice young man sits next to me. Now
I am blessed, or cursed, with a particularly acute sense of smell and
this young man smelled like he hadn't touched water in days or weeks.
Just my luck. Half suffocated, I try to bury my nose in my coffee and
at the first stop, I spring to another seat.</div>
<div>Much nicer. I even had the chance, later on, to bottle feed a
nice little chubby black baby, while his mother was eating. Babies and
animals, I can't resist.</div>
<div>Now after feeding that chubby black baby, you can understand how
meeting the Oils, which are not chubby, not black, and don't drink
from a baby bottle anymore (AS FAR AS I KNOW), well, it pales in
comparison.</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>So I'm in New York and I get a cab down to the venue, with a can
of Coke in my hand. Not a good idea. The cab drivers in NY seem to
know only two paces: fast forward and complete stop. It makes for a
VERY jerky ride and forget about drinking from a can. But then, when
the driver ahead of him gave him a long, pointed finger and my cabbie
got out and started yelling at him and a fist fight seemed imminent, I
had the time to drink my Coke peacefully. They didn't exchange punches
but I think it came very close. So I finally make a triomphant arrival
at the Bowery ballroom.</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Peter arrives in very much the same manner ten minutes later.
Some people walk over to him and surround him, but he looks so alone
and defenceless that I stay put. He eyes my Powderworks shirt and
gives me a discreet thumbs up with his Peter-grin.</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>While waiting I met some very nice people, on top of the nice
ones I already knew, no names,&nbsp; you guys know who you are. I
enjoyed the chats, it made for very pleasant waiting.</div>
<div>The whole band exits from the depths of the place and leaves.
Bones has time to share with us that he just paid 750$ to have his
dog's inflammed tooth extracted.</div>
<div>Do I win the prize for the most useless piece of info relayed on
the list????</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Rob stays behind cause he says he has a photo shoot. Now,
remember, I'm the film industry girl. You tell me photo shoot, I see
props, white pannels, lights, cameras, make-up, the whole set-up. But
Rob's world is simpler than that. In Rob's world, a photo shoot takes,
well, a subject: him and his small drums, a person with a camera:
Susan, the girl from the anti-nuke association, and a background: a
truck and a pile of garbage bags. Away they shoot. Robs jumps up in
the air repeatdely. But you can tell he's not used to cameras, because
instead of staying in the air, holding the pose, he falls right back
down each time.</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Bit later, the lounge opens and then comes the truly
extraordinary moment of my evening. A wonderful Powderworker
introduces the Sierra Nevada beer to me! Darn that's some GOOD beer!!!
Now I can die happy. But why die so young so I decide to wait a bit.
At least until after the show.</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>The show, well, you've had the reports. Indeed, second only to
the Montreal show as far as energy and electricity. Brilliant
time.</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Busy after party show. The boys their sweet patient selves. By
the way, a note on Maurice worried about Europe. They did say the
SECOND part of the year for Europe. And they're following the 2 Euro
dates this week with 3 weeks off back home. So they obviously don't
mind so much the traveling back and forth. I wouldn't worry too much.
(But no, I don't have inside info on that.)</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Now for the record, I would like to mention that<i> Nina got a
totally unasked, 100% free, fully unexpected hug from Rob with the
words, and I quote: &quot;Good to see you again&quot;.</i> But
everything is ok now, I talked to her a while ago and she HAS stopped
shaking. :)</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Next morning, I take a nice, leisurly walk back to the bus
station, confirming what I aready knew: I hate New York. It's my
version of an urban nightmare. ( No offence New Yorkers!)</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Curtain folks!</div>
<div><br></div>
<div>Brigitte</div>
<div><br></div>
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