06.20.22 – 5:33AM – Mon. – Airport Sheraton, Toronto, ON, CAN

Let me spoil the punchline early: It was all worth it.

After a relaxed breakfast of peppery eggs and cheese at the Fünf10 Hotel in Netphen, where I stayed for the festival, a few emotional-for-me-at-least goodbyes and a quick gas-up, I was on the way back to Frankfurt Airport. Driving the van was the man himself, Alexander Fuchs, who coordinates various ends of Rock Freaks Records and does the YouTube channel as well as being in charge of coordinating logistics for pickups, dropoffs, comings and goings for Freak Valley — there is no substitute for competence, and he’s got that in spades — and I was traveling with Chris, Marty and Dave from Slomatics, which was only a joy. It was a relaxed trip, dropped Severin Sandvik from Kosmodome at the train station in Siegen, then no real traffic to speak of on a sunny Sunday morning.

Got there, hopped out, went in, found Air Canada, checked in, dedided to pull the bag of vinyl out of my luggage to get it under the maximum limit where they charge you more instead of my latptop, security, stumbled around looking for and failing to find the Lego store, and so on. Went to the gate, Slomatics dudes were nearby, so sat, had a coffee and a few more laughs, and then they left and I got some writing done for today (not this; I didn’t think I was going to post again about the travel, but alas). Gate change, oh isn’t that cute, so galumphed to the new gate right next door. Listened to Barr’s Skogsbo is the Place — a longtime travel companion; someday I’ll go to Skogsbo — and waited.

The flight was Frankfurt FRA to Toronto YYZ (hey you like Rush?). Original plan was direct, same as the way from Newark EWR to Germany going over, but United canceled that flight and put me instead on one with the Toronto connection. I’d have 90 minutes at the airport in Canada, maybe long enough to buy a fridge magnet, before another two-hour trip home. I went from a window to a middle seat — which, being a gentleman of some physical proportion, is always a bummer — and couldn’t change it. But at least I’d be home when it was done.

So. They loaded us onto the airplane and we sat for 90 minutes before taking off. The pilot said there was some delay putting in fuel or some such. 90 minutes on the plane before even moving. My connection? Still had a chance, but it would be dash-through-the-airport tight, or maybe get on one of those fun-looking cart trains that always beep at you when you walk in front of them. Anyway, it was a great weekend, I’d figure it out.

I bought the in-flight internet, which was $20 for a connection not good enough to stream YouTube. The pandemic made flying worse. It’s like a covered wagon in the sky. Everybody’s mad and sad and disgruntled and uncomfortable and ripped off, breathing dirty air through their masks. Rickety-ass mode of transportation. Two drunk ladies got kicked off the plane while we were sitting. Two dudes on either side of me, my head down, that airplane film of sweat and recycled air that gets on you when you fly. Just a mess.

Let’s say it was a far cry from the vibe at Freak Valley this weekend. I was never a huge fan of commercial air travel, which is putting it mildly, and I think it’s immoral to make people pay money to see the world let alone to reap unheard of profits while doing things like charging $20 for dogshit internet, but we only get one planet, one life, and even if the revolution comes, I’m feeling these days like it’s going to be the wrong one, so okay. At least I could message The Patient Mrs. to check in, keep her apprised of my progress, complain about the delay. Generally brighten her evening as only my grumpy ass can.

Buying that internet turned out to be the right call. It allowed me to see that my second flight, which I stood a darn good chance of missing anyway, was canceled. I was back and forth sending messages to The Patient Mrs., what do I do, what happens with my luggage, all this. In between, tried and failed to sleep, played a little Final Fantasy IV on my phone, kept up with the baseball game as it just so happened the Yankees were in Toronto playing the Blue Jays. I brought five Devin Townsend records with me for the trip. Listened to all of them and that lessened the stress, but if I’d remembered the xanax in my bag, I’d have been on that for sure. Too distracted. But you pass the time.

The plane landed just as Neurosis’ “Stones From the Sky” started to blow itself to pieces. Nearly perfect. I’d go to the ticket counter with the other connecting-flight types and get it sorted. The Patient Mrs. rebooked me on a 1pM Monday trip — we’d talked about buses, trains, renting a car and just driving the seven hours, which I swear if I could do right this second I would because it would get me home faster and save me going back to the airport, different times to fly — and a hotel room at the Airport Sheraton. Not roughing it.

I don’t eat airline food. It’s shit and it smells like it. By the time we land, I’m frazzled, not knowing where to go, what’s up with my bag, how I’m getting to the hotel shuttle, which shuttle to take, which Sheraton it is because there are like 10 right by the airport, on and on and on. My mind just pummeling me. And I’m starving because the last thing I ate was a 9AM breakfast on European time, at least 12 hours earlier, maybe more? I don’t have the brain power to do that math right now. Still really exhausted.

Because I want both an in-person confirmation of my makeup flight and I want to ask about my bag, I go to the connecting flights thing. We’d sat again at the gate because apparently there was no one there to meet us. This was the most excruciating part of the trip, and I felt like I was losing my mind. One flight attendant said to sit, then another one came and said to go to the front of the plane if you were connecting, so I did that, then the other flight attendant came back and got snippy about it, I got a little snippy back, but I stopped short of telling her to fuck off, and I feel like that’s a triumph. I think you can get arrested for that kind of shit.

Anyway, eventually they opened the door, and I walked to the connecting flights desk, which I found manned solely by Young Jimmy, who it was immediately clear knew nothing about anything. There was a line. I stood on it, felt stupid, left, went to customs, miserable, wretched, awful, less fascist than in America but not by much — also got my vaccine card checked, which made me glad I had it along — went to baggage claim, stood, sat, waited to see if maybe they’d just dump my luggage there. No dice. Also no one at the little info desk there, but there was some kind of baggage claim services open, so I went to that. Dude was also angry. At everything. He said it “should” work out that I’ll get my bag in Newark today. Obviously I’m not holding my breath or I’d have passed out by now.

Followed signs to the hotel shuttles, around, downstairs, past closed exits, various whatnot. It was later by then, so most stuff was closed. On the sidewalk, I asked a driver how much to the hotel — shuttle’s supposed to be free, mind you — and he said $20. I told him no way, it was like three blocks (which is true) and he goes, “For you, just for you, $10.” I’d have paid it just to get out of there, but he didn’t take a card. In retrospect, probably because he wasn’t supposed to be taking money at all. Went and asked a cab, dude goes, “$30.” I laughed and said, “forget it” and walked away.

Wandered back and forth on the sidewalk. It would’ve been four in the morning in Germany, but I wanted to call Alex and say, “Hey man, I need a ride and no one here knows what the hell they are doing,” and in my head I could hear him go, “Shit!” then take a drag off his cigarette and say, “Well, we go,” and fix everything. He’d staff the airport and have me home in 45 minutes. I shit you not, the dude is magic. Alas.

Coordinating with The Patient Mrs. — who, as great as Alex is, is the most capable human I’ve ever met, by a wide margin — was not a hardship, even over text and phone. We will have been together for 25 of my 40 years as of this September, and if I could live 10 times as long with her I would. She is the universe in which my life happens, do you understand? I love her with every fiber of my being and I am defined by that.

Some stoner dudes on the shuttle seem to recognize the YOB shirt or at least peg me as somewhat-less-square. We did that acknowledge-each-other’s-presence-among-normal-people thing that you do. More than a nod, not nearly a conversation. My skin melting off my bones from the experience I’d just had, my brain setting itself on fire with hunger, fatigue, worry, I wasn’t much for socializing anyhow.

By the time I got to the counter to check in — the line of people from the shuttle in front of me — I had heard the spiel enough times to tell the young woman that the wifi is Sheraton_Guest, that the restaurant closed at 11PM but the bar was open till 12, that the shuttle came at 25 and 55 past the hour and that the hold was $50 on my card for incidentals in the room. These are exploited workers. Pretty young women set up like props to give people coming in a sense of the refinement of the place. The means of production. Assets. That capitalist pig, Sir Topham Hat — yes, I gave the Slomatics guys my political take on Thomas the Tank Engine in Frankfurt; they are the best dudes, period. — would smile in his fucking tuxedo.

Like the airport, the restaurant was understaffed and not ready for the rush of people. And about to close since it was 10:35 or so after I finished checking in. I didn’t even go upstairs to put my bookbag down — remember I still didn’t have my luggage, but I had my bookbag, which is why I’m not currently crying and losing my mind wondering where my camera is — just walked in and asked for a grilled chicken caesar salad, no croutons. My standby. Waited. Waiting. Waiting on the plane. Waiting at the airport. Waiting at the other airport. Waiting now. Wait. Weight.

Voice in the back of my head: You know, there was a time when you were small in those airplane seats. Always there, that one.

I found on a bench a wrapped travel toothbrush and toothpaste — the kind someone had definitely gotten from the front counter of the hotel — and asked if they belonged to anyone. No answer, so I snatched those because all my clothes, toiletries, etc., are in my luggage, and, well, you gotta brush your teeth. Came up to the room. I tell you, I ate the living crap out of that salad. The salad didn’t stand a chance. After that, quick shower, even quicker call to say goodnight to The Patient Mrs. then basically right to bed as it was well past midnight. Bought D.C. Fontana’s Star Trek novel because I’ve never read it, and made it about three pages in before I was out. My alarm was set for 9:30 — fucking luxury — and I woke up at 4:45. Go figure. I’m not sure what time zone I’m in, but I know my brain and body are spread out across at least two right now.

The point of all this? I already told you: It was all worth it.

And whatever fresh, steaming mountain of bullshit today might bring once I go back to the airport dealing with my luggage, etc.? That will be worth it too.

Being able to go to Freak Valley Festival for the first time, to chat to Jens about the place, to meet people like Alex, Volker and so many others, to see friends of long-standing like Pete Holland, Rolf, Désirée, Falk-Hagen, Kirsten, Slomatics (I might make it a quiet mission to get them to New York one of these days), on and on, it meant so much to me. I already did the big thank-you thing yesterday, so I don’t want to repeat myself, but I’ll never forget the kindness, the warmth and welcome I was shown were genuinely touching. And even knowing now what would follow that experience, I’d still jump in in a heartbeat. Less than that even. I’m not getting any younger and we all just lost two years. It’s time for a bit of living.

Also sleep. I’m going crash back out and see if I can sleep before the 10:25AM (free) shuttle takes me to the airport. Thanks for reading if you still are. Love always.

Tags: Canada, Freak Valley 2022, Ontario, Toronto

This entry was posted on Monday, June 20th, 2022 at 7:45 am and is filed under Features. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.