28 June 2011
'Shoe-Shine'Miami. Day off.
Miami is hot, close and stormy which is not really what we had in mind for a couple of post-Glastonbury recovery days. Everyone’s blitzed after the most insane fortnight in the history of rock, with low profiles being kept all round.
This coming month feels like a kind of coda or post-script to the tour, where we “only” have to think about the show that we’re doing on any given day. The massive extra-curricular activities are over, so perhaps we can live more in the moment for the final furlong. I’m picking through the wreckage and seeing what I can offload now that the big push is done and as I do so it seems that everything’s falling apart, utterly worn out after three summers of punishment. Having replaced my suitcase, I now find that my computer bag is sporting a large hole at the seam, so I’ve probably been distributing room keys and memory sticks around the world. In addition, I find myself in possession of a narcoleptic laptop. I’ll be happily typing away then, woomf!, black screen and it’s put itself to sleep. Any key press brings the poor thing round so it’s not a big deal and I can’t really complain as, in all honesty, I’m feeling pretty much the same way myself.
I found a plastic bag in my suitcase containing a pair of shoes worn at Glastonbury. These weren’t my wellies, these were the shoes I changed into when I was in the comparatively mud-free areas like the dressing room zone, catering or the mix-position. Even these were covered in mud so I rang down to reception.
'Excuse me, do you offer a shoe-shine service?'
'Why, yes we do, sir!'
'Er…are you up for a challenge?'
Ambitions have been low these past couple of days and, in a gesture towards doing something normal, I managed to round up a posse to go to the cinema last night. A few of us went to see Super 8, which was fun, in a Stand By Me meets E.T. kind of a way. Bono summed it up as a kind of love letter from the director to all the things that made him want to make movies in the first place. Plus the best train crash in the history of cinema.
Strolling back to the Hotel Fabulous under the palm trees you could feel the moisture hanging in the air, almost resistant, like wading through soup. I’ve never been much of a fan of this place (though they did do an impressive job on the shoe shine, I’ll give them that).