//The one and only, Patti Smith, on stage at the Bowery Ballroom.
Arriving in NYC again, our cabby is a total asshole. Nothing's changed. We dash into town from LaGuardia as Steph calls the Bowery Ballroom to find out if I can bring my camera in. Four transfers later, we're told that no "professional" cameras are permitted... which in my experience just means nothing fancy looking or bigger than a palm. I reluctantly leave my camera bag at the hotel and head out with only Steph's point & shoot. No use being bitter about it... this little thing is better than my first camera, and I made people look back then...
We fight the cold up Greenwich on our way to the Fedex station to pick up our tickets. The door is locked. The woman inside shrugged and walked away from me. Outside, one of the workers explains that they were closing an hour early 'cause it was New Year's Eve. I explained that my entire night's plans were inside a little envelope behind that desk. He shrugged an apologized without feeling. I head for the shelter of the security desk and plead. They point at the people leaving, who just shrugged us off with a, "too bad! we're out of here!".
Steph & I head outside, where I get to talking with two guys in the same situation as us. We decide to split a cab over to the Bowery and try our luck with the door -- or some scalpers. NY was always like this... screwing you over unless you were prepared to fight for what you wanted.
Arriving at the club there isn't a single scalper in sight. We can hardly blame them. The night winds are mercilessly freezing -- and we're Canadian. We show ID and head into the sold out club. "Any tickets left?" "Actually, yes, we've got a few." Counting out of our combined cash, we've got just enough to pay for another pair of tickets. The dream is back in focus.
Happy 2009, folks. May this be the year for love and peace (in your hearts and in the middle east).