We headed straight to Brandenburg Gate, and started soaking in history immediately.
Okay, so neither Candice, Jaco nor I had any clue what the historical significance of this gate was. We even read the big plaque thingy. Basically, it had something to do with fighting for independence. Anyway, it was big and pretty and important.
Moving on.
We went to a "traditional German restaurant," whatever that meant. Well, that meant wieners.
And heavy, starchy weightiness in our bellies.
Imagine the digestive tornado to follow. Germans have cast-iron intestines.
We then proceeded to ride the subway everywhere.
We met some really awesome German folks, who became our new friends. Partying ensued. At one point, we had a big sing-along. The Germans sang Kate Nash, the Americans sang Third-Eye Blind (okay, well Jaco did). But everybody knew all the lyrics to Oasis. It's universal.
Eventually we found our way to a party that everybody in town seemed to be talking about. Super "underground." (Of course, how "underground" could it be if everybody was talking about it?) It was a giant dance party held in a former power plant.
Note the 3rd Floor Rocking Out
There was much dancing and frolicking and stumbling about.
On the way home, I noticed that someone had written "Someday you will be loved" on a car window: It was late, I was not-quite-coherent, and I had only seen German written everywhere. For these reasons, I suddenly felt very emotional, and started taking approximately 973 pictures of said window. Jaco and Candice had to convince me of my lameness and pull me away from the car.
And thus the night ended.
Back to our cheap little hostel we went.
Cheap Hostel Room for Three, Please
As we were totally slumming it, Jamie wanted nothing to do with us, and rented a beautiful apartment elsewhere in Berlin. I'm sure he was having fun, but we were roughing it.
Day two: we strolled down the Berlin wall.
The Most Berlin-y Picture I've Ever Seen
Over the next two days, I decided to brush up on my German (I took a few years of it in high school, but had since forgotten much). And there was more dancing. More partying. More taking the subway all over German creation.
About a month ago, when we first arrived in London, I was immediately stricken by the sheer Britishness of it all. Somehow, it was even more British than I was expecting:
The UKis a Cartoon Version of Itself.
For Real, Though.
But of course, we weren't there to sight-see; we were there to work.
We were playing a show called BBC Switch, which was aimed firmly at teens. No one over 19 in the crowd, which meant no parents, which meant a room full of crazy adolescent Brits. The energy in that room was electric, and we all had a blast.
Backstage, Kelly Osbourne interviewed Miley, surrounded by every camera in the United Kingdom...and made her do the limbo, for some unknowable reason:
Afterwards, the band went to The Defectors Weld, which has a dress code I will never understand. You are not allowed entry if you're wearing a hat. Okay, fine. So this just means they expect a certain higher level of dress, right? Well, no. You are also not allowed in if you're wearing formalwear. Wha-what? So you've got to just be right-down-the-middle then. The principal of this made me want to leave immediately. I don't wanna be anywhere that particular.
We stayed for a few drinks, and then Clay, Nadia and I left for a very special British treat:
Magnum Classic. Best Ever.
Yummy yummy ice cream.
On the way home, we saw this sign:
Anyone Wanna Take a Crack at Interpreting This One?
Sometimes, you see a thing on a shelf. And that thing belongs on another shelf.
Also, toaster pastries are totally fun to play with in their shiny silver wrappers, so that's why the box was empty: they were scattered throughout the room.
I realize I'm a bit behind on the blogging. Life just barrels onward, and I can't seem to catch my breath. Having a great time though.
So, a couple weeks ago we played The Today Show (which along with The Tonight Show, completes the set for us, I suppose). The concert took place smack dab in the middle of Rockefeller Square, with approximately 12,000 people shoehorned in there, which was sort of like dropping the entire Pacific ocean into a drinking glass.
I got to play with the brand new, delicious keyboards that Roland supplied me with, in exchange for my Miley-related face. They're much easier to play than my old keyboards, with the added benefit of making Schmid Island look like a totally pro vacation destination.
Mike - stunned by the keyboard greatness. Nate - bored behind his drumset.
This was another whirlwind trip for us. We got in late at night, and the morning of the show, we had to soundcheck at 5am. Miley only got a few hours of sleep, but of course she was still brilliant. And of course, so were we. That's what we get paid for. The complaining is a free bonus (I like to call it "added value").
In the dressing room, they had a big spread of donuts, fruit and sandwiches. So of course, I had three donuts. When the show began, I had a stomach ache (what am I, five? "Mikey can't resist the candy", eh?).
Jaco is constantly asking me to take his picture
But this time he returned the favor. I'm apparently ready to fake pounce, or something.
Nate and I became fast friends. If you happen to have the show Tivo'd, you can see at the beginning of Miley's dressing room interview, Nate and I are sitting on the couch behind her, having some fun with his iPhone. He had installed the Magic 8-Ball application and we were asking it some questions (at the most inappropriate possible time). First, "will we be a complete trainwreck on stage?" It's answer: "Of course!" Second, Nate asked, "will I be responsible for this?" The ball replied, "Absolutely not." So Nate was off scot-free, but who was going to ruin the show?
We went back out to the stage and played our faces off. It was a pretty typical show: Kay and Nadia shook their little booties, I held down the Island, Nate banged on some stuff, Jamie and Jaco got way too much camera time, Vashon intimidated little girls, Stacy looked on with a broken arm and a tear in his eye, and Miley belted like the charismatic little rockstar she is.
Turns out the only thing that went wrong is that the host didn't know we were playing another song, and tried to throw to commercial. But really, 8-Ball -- "train wreck?" That may be pushing it.
Before the flight home, Nate bought me a book of Sudoku, as we were talking about how I didn't understand the mass cultural fascination with it. Of course, I also thought it was about math, and we all know how I run screaming in the other direction when confronted with simple addition. Nate explained that there is no math involved, and that even a total knob-monkey like myself could understand it. I was addicted within five minutes, and spent a good part of my return flight filling in puzzles. The rest of the time was spent watching Curb Your Enthusiasm on my iPod, attempting to sleep with my head rolling from side to side, and holding those Terra Blue chips up to the light to admire the special pearlescent chemical compound that I probably shouldn't be eating.
So the giant machine that is the Miley Cyrus production invaded Bryant Park, and New York City did not know what hit it. Thousands and thousands of young girls and their moms (I think there may have been two or three young boys) piled in, filled up the park and then continued to spill up and down the adjacent streets.
Call time was 6:30am (after rehearsing the night before), so we all yawned our way through the van ride, but by the time we ambled on stage and heard all the kids screaming for Miley, their boundless enthusiasm psyched us all up for sound check.
Isn't that THE Kay Hanley?
Running through a couple songs before the show
Checkin' the mix, checkin' the mix... Sibilance? Sibilance?
Jacozilla takes on New York
After the GMA fashion show, the weather, and some stupidity about "staycations" (and we waited on stage during all of this), we finally got around to Miley's segment. As always, she came out like the little pro she is and knocked the interview and concert right out of the park. She's just always on, even ridiculously early in the morning.
Hot people and their hot moves
Some girl came up and did karaoke with us
It went very smoothly. And once again, I was barely on camera for five seconds. Schmid Island is an exotic destination; most cameramen are not up for the trip. They like to stick to the safe zones, namely Jacotown and Jamieland.
The whole show was done by about 9:30am, when we should still have been in our beds, sleeping like the west coast slacker musicians we are.
Then Nadia and I walked, like, 87 blocks for some bagels.
New York City welcomed us with a bleak, cold rainstorm. A rainstorm with which we became very familiar as we waited soggily for our shuttle to come pick us up from the JFK airport. It didn't show. After over an hour, Stacy made a phone call to the shuttle service. The service replied, "He's been waiting for over an hour. He couldn't get in to the gate, so he's around the back."
No one called to tell us this?
The only thing worse than waiting in a chilling rainstorm for a shuttle is waiting in a chilling rainstorm for a shuttle that's parked around the corner.
We made our way to the bus marked "Krystal." Their slogan was "a 'gem' of a ride!"
Kill me now.
After boarding and finally leaving the airport, the driver swerved and tailgated his way into the city. Nearly a half-hour later, we pulled over near a basketball court in what was clearly the ghetto. This was not our hotel. The driver exited the bus. He slowly walked around the side and looked closely at the front tire. Then the back tire. Then he went around the other side and did the same.
And then, without a word, he got back on the bus and resumed driving.
Okay then.
He had a strong preference for the right lane on the freeway, adding at least 15 additional minutes to our ride. When we finally reached the hotel, he parked at the entrance that was clearly marked "closed after 7pm." It was nearly 9pm.
He started pulling all our bags out of the back of the bus, when he finally heard us all screaming, "We need to move!" and "Put the bags back!" and "Why are you so dumb!?"
So he drove the van around the block to the front entrance.
Not quite a "gem" after all.
My room at the Affinia Hotel was spacious, with a full kitchen and a high ceiling, but tempered by the customary miniscule New York bathroom: you can only take a shower if you suck in your gut.
The pillows were comfy, but in case they weren't, the Affinia had a pillow menu to put that other place to shame (click photo to enlarge): What to do when you're in New York City? Well, same thing I always do: see my buddy Ben. The two of us slogged through the wet city to some country steak joint that oddly smelled like warm brownies, which is never a bad thing. I say "oddly," because brownies were not on the menu.
I'm convinced this is an everyday sight. Trash sprawled up almost every street. And trust me, there's nothing like the smell of wet garbage in the evening air to rid your brain of brownie thoughts.
The following day, we were slated to play Z100's Zootopia. Z100 is supposedly the most widely listened-to station in the world. I'm not sure how anyone can prove this.
The festival was being held at what was previously the Meadowlands Arena in Jersey, now annoyingly renamed the Izod Center. During the tour, I grew weary of arenas with names like the Dunkin Donuts Center, the Verizon Wireless Amphitheater and the FedEx Forum. Are there any venues that haven't been bought by The Man?
We had our soundcheck early in the morning and everything went very well. I can't say the same for Jessie McCartney, who spent his entire half-hour listening to Pro-Tools tracks while his playback guy tried to fix some completely inaudible problem. The band looked impatient, and Jessie looked like he was about ready to blow.
At noon, they commuted us back to the hotel for an entire day of freedom in the city. I went to the park.
The Krystal bus picked us up again at 8:30pm and drove us back out to Jersey for the big show. Also performing, the Jonas Brothers, OneRepublic, Danity Kane and Simple Plan. We got back just in time for me to check out Sara Bareilles. I really like "Love Song." Good thing too, cause they only let her play that one tune, even though everybody else was playing half-hour sets.
After her, all the girls swooned for New Kids On The Block. Yes. That's not a typo. New Kids. And how they did swoon. Some of our female dancers (and I won't name names to spare their dignity) knew all the lyrics and were very excited to see their childhood idols all growed up (read: old and depressing) and still dancing the same dance steps. It was like Bring Your Dad To Work Night at the Apollo. But I'm happy for them, I guess. They just grabbed themselves another 15 minutes.
We took the stage around 10:30 and Miley proceeded to melt some faces. Everything went well until the song, "Right Here," when my ears went out. I looked around and noticed that I wasn't the only one. Jamie was mouthing to Stacy, "No ears!" Jaco looked at me and mouthed, "Did you lose your ears?" We kept playing despite the fact that none of us could hear much of anything, as our ears block outside sound, so when they turn off, you can't hear very well. A while later in the song, the ears came back on, and of course we were off the click, so they had to stop the click track. Again, we kept playing.
Looking at the faces in the audience, nobody noticed the numerous heart attacks that just occured on stage. Those crazy kids just wanna have a good time. And a good time they had.
One show down, one to go. Tomorrow, the big NetJets show.
On Oscar Sunday, instead of going to an Oscar party (I was dying to watch the awards, but Tivo'd them back home instead), we went to a dinner party for members of the exclusive Pho list. I met tons of important people and embarrassed myself, as usual. The worst part was, the restaurant was playing the Oscars on all the TV's. And it was muted, with the captions on. So I would try desperately to avoid it, and then would accidentally catch a split second, and see the captions saying things like "and the winner of Best Costume Design is Sweeney Todd."
This happened more than three times.
By the end, I was exhausted from all the socializing (have I ever mentioned I'm a total introvert?), and dragged myself to bed...after taking one picture:
The Kabuki hotel really treated us well. And Monday morning, I woke up to this:
Ahh.
Monday brought the San Francisco Music Tech Summit, which was attended by many brilliant folks including the founder of YouTube, the former drummer from Creeper Lagoon, the creator of CDBaby and tons of musicians and web people. Quite a meeting of minds.
During the afternoon, we interviewed John Perry Barlow, one of the songwriters for The Grateful Dead. What a thoughtful, intelligent man.
We filmed and filmed and filmed some more. Interviews and panels and behind-the-scenes, oh my! Samantha hosted a panel sponsored by Digital Freedom:
She also played a show at the end of the day for the hundreds of smarties. And afterwards, we were personally invited to join John Perry Barlow (of the Dead) and Claudio Prado, the Vice Minister of Culture for Brazil, for some Korean barbecue. To hear these two trade stories was a once-in-a-lifetime experience.
Over the course of the day, we heard tons of great ideas, brilliant internet strategies and genius theories, all of which I promptly forgot by the car ride home.
I realize I've been a little lax about blogging lately. But I have an excuse. My good buddy Ben Pedersen's birthday was this week. And I'm a firm believer in celebrating birthdays at length.
Day Before the Birthday
Ben and I were hanging out, watching a terrible old horror movie called "Popcorn," which I highly recommend to lovers of bad movies. The movie ended and it was 11pm. We were thinking of what to do next? Should we play a video game? Watch another movie?
It occurred to Ben that he only had one more hour in his twenties. So I asked him, "what's something crazy you've never done before?"
All he could think of was "streaking." "But," he said, "nobody would even care if I did that in L.A."
So I asked him, "is there a place you've always wanted to go, but never gone?"
He thought for awhile, and said, "The Bonaventure Hotel downtown has a revolving restaurant with a view of the whole city."
So we hopped in the car and drove downtown, hoping to get a drink in his hand by midnight.
The Starbucks in the lobby was pretty packed for late at night.
We took the elevator up to the 53rd floor.
Ben got a drink just in time, and we celebrated the 30 year milestone in style, spinning around L.A. At this point, I was actually pretty sick, and was feeling a little spacy and weightless, so the fact that we were spinning (albeit at a slow speed) made me feel much more drunk than Ben. Day of the Birthday
Ben invited several of his closest friends to the Gaucho Grill in Brentwood. It was wonderful to catch up with people he and I both haven't seen in ages.
He introduced me to Moe and Starla, with whom he's currently working on the film "Deadland Dreaming." He knew that Moe was Mr. Hollywood Film and that I am Mr. Indie Film. He knew that worlds would collide. He knew that we're both opinionated people.
But he didn't know what he was getting into.
Ben was hoping we would just talk about Oscar politics. Instead, we got into a big discussion about "I Am Legend," "Crash," and "Gladiator," all movies I don't really like, but Moe loves. Granted, no punches were thrown, and it wasn't really even heated, but Ben was really hoping we would talk about anything other than "Crash" (sensitive subject). Hey, I didn't bring it up.
After the meal, we had a last late night round of drinks at the Ritz Carlton in Marina Del Rey.
L. to R. - Josh Lai, Ryan Linehan, Ben, me, Jan Stolpe, Andrea Stolpe
Day After the Birthday
I had set up a big surprise evening for Ben. All I told him was that he had to bring a photo ID, he couldn't wear flip flops, a hat, or light colors, and that it was a very exclusive invitation-only event.
He was very curious.
We drove downtown, and he was narrowing things down. "It's probably not a movie if it's downtown...", etc. We got into a line outside of a cathedral. I told the people in front of and behind us in the line not to say anything about what we were seeing.
Then we waited out in the cold for nearly an hour. That part...not so great.
We got into the cathedral, and Ben could see cameras on big cranes, and of course, the big Grey-Goose-Vodka-sponsored bar. I told him, "We might end up on film." Now he was really confused.
I bumped into my friend Bobby, AKA incredible singer/songwriter Big Phony. Small world. I also saw G4 host and writer for Film Threat, Chris Gore.
After another hour of waiting in the bar, they herded us into the main hall of the cathedral, which was all lit up with orange and green lights, with a marquee over the top that said "Artists' Den."
Ben was still in the dark. And I was amazed that no one had ruined the surprise yet.
And out came Aimee Mann. Ben was thrilled. She performed about five or six songs from her upcoming album, "Smilers," which is due out in April. Great stuff. And she also played "You're With Stupid Now," "Amateur," "Goodbye Caroline," "Save Me," "Wise Up," and "Today's The Day."
She had a little bit of a cold, and had to stop in the middle of a song a couple times. This made me feel a little better. If Aimee could do it, than I wouldn't feel so bad at my show if I had to stop.
It was a brilliant night, and Ben was completely surprised. They were filming it for the new Artists' Den show on the Ovation network, which debuted that same night with a Crowded House episode. The Aimee Mann episode will premiere March 23rd. Look for us in the audience.
Last night was the "little party at Candice's." Or at least that's how she presented it. We were picked up at the hotel by a big stretch Hummer limo, complete with an indoor laser show. When we arrived at the gorgeous Accola compound, we enjoyed an elaborate spread of quail, conch fritters, fondue and fried turky, which is super delicious. I made a playlist (for this very occasion) and tried to include something for everyone, which meant some Posies and Nirvana for the band, some Amy Winehouse for the dancers, and a little Neil Finn for myself.
It was quite the happening event. Lots of toasted marshmallows and toasted crew members.
The band and the dancers flew back to LA for the premiere of our 3D tour film. I took my parents. The three of us walked down the red carpet, and paparazzi were snapping pics of everyone but us. Which was, honestly, a relief. Everybody was out, from crazy screaming fans to big Disney stars (that I've never heard of).
When we arrived inside the El Capitan, we picked up our chunky 3D glasses and popcorn, in a big plastic Hannah Montana sand pail, with a handle.
I did think it strange that we all got super dressed up and spiffy, then proceeded to ruin the look with our big popcorn pails and glasses.
The movie itself was absolutely phenomenal. We were all very impressed. It was hilarious and fun and eye-popping, and really reflected Miley's personality perfectly. The filmmakers were very generous and gave copious and equal screen time to all the band members. I highly recommend everyone see it 18 times. Of course, I feel like I look like a total spaz in it, but I always hate to see myself in pictures and movies. Hopefully, you'll feel differently.
Wow. I'm exhausted. It's been a wonderful whirlwind weekend of friends and family. We've been in DC and Baltimore - both right near my old neighborhood, so I tried to see as many people as I could.
We'll do these one entry at a time.
The first day in DC, I met up with my old high school buddy, Kevin Gift and his wife Laura. They have two sweet little babies now. Hallie, the smartest three-year-old I've ever met. She loves to chat. The second their car pulled up, she looked at me and said, "Hi Michael! Sit with me, Michael!" And then she wanted to hold my hand all night.
We went to an awesome restaurant where they brewed their own delicious root beer.
Hallie and mother Laura
Little one-year-old brother Xander wasn't having the best of times, but then it's pretty hard to be a one-year-old. Takes a lot of work to do anything. Such a nice guy though. Here he is with his Daddy.
Xander and father Kevin
We all tried to catch up in a very short period of time (about two hours), as there's not a very large window when you have two younguns.
New Years Eve was certainly the most bizarre birthday I've ever had. I woke up around noon (this part was pretty normal, unfortunately) and did the daily food scavenge. Didn't find much in the minibar. So I went back to Cafe Europa, where I had breakfast with Jae and Robin the previous day. "Stick with the safe choice!" That's what I always say. Who cares if you're in a city filled with a multitude of delicious options?
Then I celebrated my birthday by going to the Sprint store and activating my brand new (to me) Treo. Very exciting. While I was in a celebratory mood, I decided to swing by Best Buy on the way back to the hotel to pick up a Spoon record I really wanted. As a present to myself. I went in and found the CD immediately. And then I looked up and realized that Best Buy + NYC + New Year's Eve = NO. The line stretched all the way through the store and out the front door. So I put it down and left.
Later, we all hopped in the van (minus Candice and Kay who unfortunately were replaced by dancers for the day, as there wasn't going to be much room on our tiny rooftop stage). Luckily, Times Square was only three blocks from our hotel, so even with traffic we anticipated a short ride. Unluckily, the police re-routed us at every intersection in some cruel display of misplaced power. It took us almost 45 minutes to get there. Stacy and I thought we should just get out and walk, but for some reason, nobody seemed to want to. This was absurd.
We showed our top-secret Dick Clark passes and were ushered into the ABC building into a tiny room that (strangely enough) had a washer and dryer in it. This was our dressing room.
They brought in some Virgil's Barbecue, but I didn't really like it. Despite everyone saying it was some world-class restaurant, nobody really enjoyed the food in front of us.
Around 5pm, they escorted us all up to the roof for a sound check. It was freezing up there.
The dancers quickly cobbled together a routine, adapted for the tiny stage. We were all very impressed with them.
(R-L: Christina Glur and Ashlee Nino)
To our right, we could see that a massive crowd had already gathered in Times Square. However, we weren't performing to them. Though it looks, on TV, like we're facing the crowd, this is what was directly in front of us:
A lot of people, equipment, and (oddly enough) a UFC billboard owned by CBS. (Why was this on top of the ABC building?)
Stacy began arranging his kit, Jaco was playing with his amp, and I was setting up my keyboard, when BAM, they just started the ProTools tracks and we had to go go go. Nobody even told us we were playing yet and off we went.
Everybody felt frazzled but we got it together quickly. By the time the song ended, we weren't sure if we'd just done a rehearsal or a pre-tape. I think it was both. We did it one more time and then headed back downstairs to the warmth of the Barbecue Laundry Room.
Jack then notified us that we had five hours till the show. Great. Let's go explore! Except, ABC + NYC + New Year's Eve = NO. We weren't allowed to leave the building. The whole place was on lockdown. Nobody really brought anything to do. Except Jamie. He had a deck of cards.
So this is what the next five hours looked like:
Notice, behind Jack is Times Square. We had a great view of all the people wearing their red hats (sponsored by Pontiac!) and the acts performing. We had a TV in the room with a feed of what was going on outside. So we could watch Carrie Underwood on TV and hear the bass and the crowd screaming from outside, and poke our head out the window and looky -- there's Carrie Underwood!
Mostly though we just played cards.
At precisely 9:50pm, we were hurried back up to the roof. Tiffany gave us heating pads to stuff into our clothes. I had previously bought some cut-off gloves from H&M, and I quickly stuffed the pads into the palms. I thought I'd leave my coat behind since we were only playing two songs and I wasn't going to wear it during the broadcast (who wants to look like a puffy porpoise on national TV?).
Little did I know we'd be standing there for a full 20 minutes before we played.
As I froze my bony booty off, I enjoyed this view of the revelers:
The revelers happened to be reveling without any alcohol this year, as Times Square is dry for New Year's. They still seemed totally drunk.
We got a 10 minute warning. Then 5. Then 2 minutes. We were all waiting for the 5-4-3-2 countdown before we start playing.
It didn't come. BANG! The ProTools started again. WHAT!? We all just ran with it. Live television, ladies and germs! When you watch it, you might be able to notice that we're all a little surprised at the beginning.
Needless to say, Miley was great. She was energetic and a total pro in the arctic weather. She's a little 15-year-old powerhouse.
My fingers were frozen, and I had a painful hangnail on my thumb which I had to slam all over the keyboard. None of this felt good.
But what a thrill it was to look to the right and see us playing on all the Jumbotrons in Times Square.
And then as quickly as it began, it was over.
Here it is, as seen on TV (only grainier):
Then we all practically ran out of that building.
But the night wasn't over yet. Part Two coming soon.
We played a fairly sober show in Hartford, Connecticut. Jaime, Stacy and Kay demanded Pepe's Pizza, cause I don't know, it brough back fuzzy memories or something. So it ended up on our bus after the show. And it was a good dinner.
And a mediocre breakfast. And a sketchy dinner the next day. Honestly, we'll probably eat it today too. I think it's coming to the end of its lifespan. There sure was a lot of it, though.
Last night we played a rip-roaring rambunctious show in Providence, Rhode Island. That audience was crazy. They even stomped their feet for the encore.
Now we've just got a show tonight and tomorrow night in Worcester (hooray for staying in the same place for two nights! Yay! I can almost move in!), and then we're all flying to our families for a brief (3 day) Christmas break.
Warning: This entry contains rants. Miley fans read at your own risk.
We're back in America. Hallelujah. We were welcomed by a thoughtless and mean noreaster. It didn't seem so bad, but we were hearing reports of three feet by morning.
After slogging through several miles of gorgeous snowy ugliness, we arrived at the Hyatt. It seemed nice enough.
The powers-that-be said they'd be deciding by 9am if there would be a show.
I put in my breakfast order before I went to bed so that I could wake to a delicious happy morning around 10:30.
Not so much with that.
11am rolled around and nothing. Around 11:15 a man came in with my breakfast...
Once again not so much.
It was somebody else's breakfast. My first clue was that my bill should have read $9.95, and this one said $55.
Umm, no.
I notified the man that this was the wrong order and he started complaining. "It's because of this Hannah Montana tour. They're filling up our entire hotel and it's throwing everything off." I politely(ish) told him that I was part of said tour. His face went white and he slinked out of the room with his big dumb wrong order.
So I went without breakfast. Whatever.
Then I headed to the elevator where I saw Stacy and a bunch of dancers. They said they'd been waiting for the elevator for literally fifteen minutes. They had already sent Vishon down on an elevator without his bags so he could let the elevator empty out and save it for them. He hadn't been seen for at least ten minutes.
See, apparently the stupid Hyatt told all these stalker kids where Miley would be and what time she was checking out. This basically led to pandemonium in the hotel, and all we could hear was hysterical juvenile screaming coming from the elevator shaft.
After another ten minutes, Vishon finally arrived in an empty elevator. We packed the thing full of all our bags and headed down from the 21st floor.
We proceeded to stop at every single floor on the way down, each time the doors would open to the sight of young pink-wearing little girls who were clearly disappointed to see us. Sometimes they would whine "where's Hannah Montana?" And sometimes they would just walk off in disgust. But one thing's for sure: their parents were enabling all this.
We finally hit the first floor and were "welcomed" by a wall of fans that we had to push through (haven't these people heard of moving out of the way?) and then once we got out to the buses, we had to push through another crowd of fans (with their enabling parents who were saying things like, "look, that guy has a guitar case!").
+DO come to the show and party! -DO NOT come to the hotel and party. +DO scream like a crazy person at the show. -DO NOT scream like a crazy person at the hotel. +DO wait outside the buses after the show (if you REALLY want to) -DO NOT wait in front of the buses before the show.
Miley is a huge star, and deservedly so. She's very charismatic and cool. I can see why you'd want to meet her. But people...let's just use some common sense and be courteous of others.
Oh and also, shame on you Hyatt, for 1) not knowing how to handle a large group, and 2) telling little girls the location of Miss Miley Cyrus. That's just a no-brainer.
...If by "strange," you mean "there's a surcharge for using American money." Otherwise, it's pretty much the same. Although people are oddly kind here, which I love. Nobody has said "eh?" yet, but everybody does say "oot and aboot."
I've been to Toronto before, but I mostly forget that experience as a result of a massive mindwipe.
However, some things never change. For instance, the Westin still wants $20 for a sandwich. So I bundled like an Eskimo and froze my away across the street to a tiny little deli. I got a sandwich, a drink, some soup and a muffin for $12...well, $13.52 after the "we hate your money" surcharge.
We headed straight to Brandenburg Gate, and started soaking in history immediately.
Okay, so neither Candice, Jaco nor I had any clue what the historical significance of this gate was. We even read the big plaque thingy. Basically, it had something to do with fighting for independence. Anyway, it was big and pretty and important.
And heavy, starchy weightiness in our bellies.
Imagine the digestive tornado to follow. Germans have cast-iron intestines.
Note the 3rd Floor Rocking Out
It was late, I was not-quite-coherent, and I had only seen German written everywhere. For these reasons, I suddenly felt very emotional, and started taking approximately 973 pictures of said window. Jaco and Candice had to convince me of my lameness and pull me away from the car.
Cheap Hostel Room for Three, Please
The Most Berlin-y Picture I've Ever Seen
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