glasgow....without a picture of my actual passport.

this is repost of glasgow without my REAL passport....I totally forgot to consider the identity theft issue. Today's show is going to be off the proverbial hook. I know it; i have what the experts call a "feeling." Scholarly types might even call it a premonition. We left Belfast this morning bright and early, waking up at about 7:30 to make a 9am ferry to ye' old Scotland, and our next stop in the city of Glasgow. In the summer of my 8th grade year, my family dragged me along on a two week vacation to this wonderful, magical, gratuitously green country, even in spite of incessant whining about having to miss a two week stint at basketball camp. I pretended to be having a shit time for about the first three days, cold shouldering attempts at familial communication and being an all-around bratt-ola. My sister was ill, too, so of course we all got sick together. A family affair. Even in spite of these facts, Scotland amazed me not only in its beauty but also in the fact that much of my LITHGOWness comes from here. We even visited a castle entitled "LinLithgow." As i said, this is a magical place; even more magical than it appears in that Mel Gibson movie "Braveheart" (you might recall the line, "THEEEY MEEY TAAAKE HOURR LOOIVES, BUT THEEEY WIIILL NEEHVER TAAKE...........you fill in the rest). I think they filmed that in New Jersey, anyways. Hollywood comparisons aside, i'm am ecstatic to be here. The ferry across the Irish Sea was probably the most picturesque and beautiful boat ride i've ever been on, the sun bursting through the dark and ominous clouds illuminating spots of the turbulent waters with a golden glow. I sat out on the outside deck for a good thirty minutes contemplating life and the meaning of things, as well as taking my second roll of film and trying not to be blown away by the vigorous winds buffeting my rosy cheeks and complicating my already unruly hairdo. As we arrived at the port and drove our car out of the holding bay, we were stopped at the checkpoint behind a van filled with literally dozens of little puppies, shouting and panting and talking amongst themselves. The man responsible for the puppy van looked a bit like Santa Claus himself: chubby, rosy cheeked, bald, and with an amazing smile. As the neon-clad checkpoint police inquired as to the nature of his visit to the land of Scotch I snuck out of our towering black carriage and snapped a couple of photos. They should turn out nicely. When it was our turn to have our vehicle and persons examined, we found the police to be surprisingly gregarious and even comical. They didn't even insist to strip search me after checking out my totally fucking whacky passport photo, which i have attached to this post. We and the PO POs shared a laugh over the topic of fender guitars vs. gibson guitars, as well as whether or not Shara could sing as high as Kate Bush (which she can....Kate Bush has NOTHING on Mrs. Shara Worden). As we drove along the coast towards Glasgow, we passed marvelous old stone buildings crumbling with the inevitable effects of age; we passed miles of stone walls, bevies of sheep, and many haggered old men walking slowly through tiny towns which seemed to be stuck in some other time, some other century, and hoping to stay that way. It was a beautiful drive. The DJ responsibilities for this little jaunt fell on Binzer's shoulders (formerly referred to in day 2 as Binder...), and he carried them well, throwing on a healthy dose of Led Zeppelin's "Physical Graffiti", and a band called "Millionaire," which is my new favorite band. I fell asleep on my huge polar bear coat listening to the all-too-chill-mode sounds of AIR, and when i awoke we were just arriving at the venue. I opened my eyes to see MY BRIGHTEST DIAMOND in massive red letters on the marquis in front of the ABC club, a very hip venue in the middle of Glasgow proper. Flanked by a subway and a restaurant called the Blue Lagoon (think Brooke Shields, naked and incestuous), ABC is the biggest venue we've had yet, and has a very smart little lighting concept of red and blue LEDs. The stage is fucking perfect, too. Not too big, not too small, and not too high at all. We loaded in our gear with the help of the faithful Craig, who also gave us our first taste of the Scottish accent. Think Sean Connery....."WALKOM TO THe RAWK..." Our sound checks as of these first 3 gigs have been running on average of about 2.5 hours, a somewhat tiresome number, but today felt great. I guess the prime reason for this was that we finally got to work a cover of Led Zeppelin's "No Quarter" off of the album "Houses of the Holy" - one of my favorites from the ZEP catalogue. Let me just say that this show is going to seriously kick some toosh. Call it a premonition, call it what you will, but it will be our sendoff to Mr. Binzer, who will be leaving first thing tomorrow morning. Luckily tomorrow and Saturday will be our first days off, and will land us comfortably in the confines of Manchester. My mother tells me this is the home of the railroads; she's an economic historian, so i have no choice but to believer her. I guess that brings us all just about up to date on the MBD thang. Also, i'm going to post another version of my night in Dublin - one which is, in my opinion, entirely more coherent and sober. You can be the judge of that.