April 1999
New York was pretty sunny on March 30th, wasn't it? I went by bus from Washington D.C. to NYC and got there< around 2:20 pm. Went to Virgin to check out the British mags and such, then headed to my fave Japanese dive for some fried rice and miso soup. Decided to take the subway to check out your hotel and maybe even leave your belated b-day present at the front desk. Got there by 3:30 pm, browsed the boutiques and galleries, sauntered off in the direction of your hotel. Man, was it guarded like a fortress! All these men in black with their Secret Service-type sunglasses!
Also noticed that there were a couple of black limos parked outside with tags that read "music" something or rather. "You are here!" I thought, but decided against attempting an entrance because I am definitely NOT a stalker (as you may know). So made a cool entrance into the coffee shop in the hotel (which had a separate entrance and which was not guarded) and smilingly waited for the hostess to show me my table, when she said, "I'm very sorry, but we're closed until six." Blast it!
Nonchalantly I walked out the door of that restaurant and pondered about whether or not I would "hang around" until the time that you and the lads would come out the door to get on your limo to head for rehearsals at the Roseland. Nixed that idea in a second as it wasn't "cool," and decided to head back towards midtown Manhattan like the lady that I am.
Hopped on the subway again and headed for Broadway, got off at 49th, walked toward 5th, read some Japanese music mags (one with a review of your Swedish gig), bought some Japanese sweets at Minamoto Kitchoan next door, used the ladies lounge at Saks (discovered a small run on the upper portion of my stocking which wasn't visible, yet made me feel trampish), walked quickly towards the stocking section to purchase a new one to wear, walked quickly back to the ladies lounge to change into it, went to a nearby drugstore to buy a large bottle of mineral water, and decided to head for the Roseland box office to pick up my tickets.
There was a girl at the will-call line that was hysterically grief- stricken. Turns out that she had lost her ticket and the lady in the box office showed no mercy. Gave her my extra ticket and felt like a million bucks (as the old farts say in the USA). All that awaited was your live performance...
love ya!
frances
KNOCK, KNOCK. WHO'S THERE?
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