Day 1 - Nishi-Tachikawa to Fort Lauderdale

 

The older I become, the more of a Luddite I become. I make no bones about preferring the old days and this I readily admit is largely to me and phone being mortal enemies. I hate it and it hates me back. It will gladly, download Apps that every company tells me I need and then cruelly refuse to activate them. Hence, setting out from my home I have five newly installed Apps from the Norwegian Cruise Line, Delta Airlines, Sony Bank, Outlook and Expedia, none of which are working. I couldn’t care less; I have printed out everything I need for the Cruise to the Edge, 2024.

 

Progressive Rock has been ridiculed and dismissed for decades by the ignorant but the very fact that there is a cruise devoted to it speaks volumes in itself. Many other popular genres do not have that honour and every year it is sold out, months before sailing date. I have been invited along by Lifesigns, who are decade-old veterans of CttE, moving up the bill every time they play it. Jumping ahead a bit, I spoke to a few Prog Rockers in the hotel a couple of nights before we set sail and they told me that Lifesigns has become a foundation of the Cruise, they look forward to seeing them every time and are not to be missed. Impressive for a band who have only released three studio albums.

 

From my home in Nishi-Tachikawa to my first hotel is twenty-six hours trip and it will be punctuated with beer. My first beer is actually at home half an hour before I leave as there was one lonely one left in the fridge from the night before and I felt a bit sad for it, the thought of it being on its own for two weeks with no friends to talk to. My second and third are at Haneda airport. I had already sent a quick note via the Lifesigns Cruise Party messenger group (one App that I actually did get going) that I was on route and Sam had quipped back ‘Do they have porters at that airport to give you a haneda with your luggage?’ The tour banter has begun.

 

Banter runs rife on a tour. A band entourage has its own life and every tour that any band does, has a different life. Newcomers to the fold need to learn quick. There are nicknames, aliases, in-jokes, ways of doing things, habits and nuances unique to the group and you need to learn and adapt where necessary. You will be ribbed, made fun of, set-up for gags and be the burden of practical jokes. It is done in good fun and makes you part of the team. More of all that later.

 

Meanwhile back at Haneda, I am waiting to board. All airlines have a system of boarding their passengers these days but Delta seem to have taken it to the extreme. First there is Delta One, A.K.A. First Class which is followed by Diamond and then Sky Priority. The next four categories are Comfort Plus, Main 1, Main 2 and 3. Last is Basic which was me and a few stragglers and the attention Basic passengers were given compared to the previous ones could be described as not wanted on voyage or persona non grata…ballast even. The flight itself was passable. After one Japanese beer and an unpalatable red wine, most of which got flushed, I did manage a few hours’ sleep although not consecutive. At Minneapolis, the transfer was smooth and it must be said, the volunteer staff there were exceptional. Friendly, witty and wonderfully helpful, I cannot praise them enough. At the gate, there is a Craft Beer bar and with three hours before boarding I decide to sample a few of the local brews. Alas, Minneapolis airport eateries are now in QR hell – just scan it on your phone and blah blah blah. I ask the barman if it’s possible to drink and pay cash and he offers to help me with my phone. He gives up after a few minutes of trying to decipher why my Japanese phone won’t work in his bar and says ‘For you, I’ll take cash and for what it’s worth, I hate this crap.’  The middle-aged lady at the end of the bar smiles at me knowingly.

 

The three hours and forty minutes on the plane to Fort Lauderdale felt a lot longer than three hours and forty minutes. Firstly, a woman decided to bring a pizza on the plane. Words fail me. Next, the captain announces that there will be fifty minutes of turbulence followed by an hour of smooth flying and then another fifty minutes of turbulence which prompts a woman two rows up to vomit into the aisle. It is explained by her friend that she has a fear of flying and that the mere mentioning of turbulence (actually, Delta use the word ‘weather’ instead as if that somehow masks what it actually is) causes her to go into a nervous state. They are moved further up the plane and the woman sitting behind her takes a picture of her puke. She sees me looking at her as she does so and I ask what she did that for. ‘To put on Instagram’ she replied in a tone that implied ‘How fucking stupid are you?’ We finally get underway after the cleaners have done their thing and it is a bit of a rough ascent but as rough ascents go, not worth mentioning unlike the temperature of the cabin that was so cold we all had to rug up for the duration. There were a few minutes more ‘weather’ later but again, nothing alarming. Thankfully, the landing, collecting baggage and taxi to the hotel all went quickly and smoothly. It was midnight when I checked in, handing over my printed-out reservation and the lady at the reception was pleasant but I couldn’t understand a word she said. There was something about a car, then something about finding a quarter in her pocket that morning and finally that she had never been to Arizona. Quite if any of it had anything to do with me, I will never know but anyway, I bought a bottle of beer for a nightcap and headed off to my room. Spacious, comfortable with a king size bed, I was ready for some proper rest.

 

Hello jetlag.

 

Day 2 - A day off in Fort Lauderdale

 

I finally dozed off about 4:30am and was awake again at 8am, in time for breakfast after which, I slept for another three hours. This was always going to be an email and writing day and there’s not much around the hotel to see or do anyway so I put the telly on the History channel and chill. There are some whacky adverts. One shouts ‘Stop Joe Biden’s Gun Grabbing Agenda’. Another is for a lawnmower from a company called Ego that is trying to sell a machine that is quite obviously for your average man in mid-life crisis who can’t afford a 911 but the majority of ads are ironically split between medical insurance and food that will cause you to need that medical insurance. Messages are coming in on the group chat about who is where doing what. I keep an eye on the proceedings throughout the afternoon whilst tapping away until teatime when I wander down to a place called Millers Ale House for dinner. The one thing you can say about America is that if you ignore all the junk food places, they do still make a cracking burger. I order one of their specialities, the Cue Bacon Cheeseburger and a large local beer to go with it – both are delicious. Back at the hotel I fight and fail to beat the tiredness that suddenly washes over me, waking up at 9pm, starfished on the bed. A few beers, some writing, asleep again at 3:30am.

 

Day 3 Pt 1 - Fort Lauderdale to Miami

 

Up until 11am, pretty much the same as yesterday. I check Messenger to see any updates. Ray and Sally’s flight has been delayed three and a half hours and have missed connections so they will be arriving much later than planned. After that, I pack, check-out and catch the shuttle bus to the airport. From there I take another shuttle to the Tri-rail station. I line up at the ticket booth. A young American girl walks to the front and oblivious of the queue or just arrogant and conceited I couldn’t say – probably a combination of all three - pushes in. My turn and I ask for a ticket to Miami Airport. “Three sevenny-faaayve, stay on this track, departs one-oh-six” the lady tells me without prompting. It starts to rain and it feels good. When it arrives, the train is a magnificent two storey beast decorated with blue sky, fluffy clouds and palm trees. I take a seat upstairs. It’s about forty-five minutes to Miami International and I gaze out of the window at places and people I will probably never see again. At the airport, I go to a desk with ‘Information’ written on the front and tell the lady I am staying at the Hyatt Place Airport West, showing her the printed address. She studies it for a moment and says “There’s probably a shuttle bus to the hotel. Outside, Stand 7.”

 

“Probably?”

“Probably, yes”

“You don’t know?”

“No.”

“Is this the information desk?”
“Yes”

“Do you have a list of airport shuttle buses?”

“No”

 

I stand at Stand 7 for half an hour. A couple of dozen shuttle buses with hotel names on come and go but no Hyatt and then I start to recognise ones that came thirty minutes ago so I opt for a taxi. On the way to the taxi stand I see a few people boarding a bus with gear and ask who they are. ‘Klone’ they reply and I tell them I like their stuff and am looking forward to seeing them play. The taxi takes twenty minutes, costs $36 and I am the first of the entourage to arrive. The bar is conveniently located next to the reception so I order a beer and check Messenger for updates. Ray and Sally’s situation has worsened, they are now stranded at Heathrow as the computer system is down. Thy won’t arrive until tomorrow. Ten minutes later, a minibus with blacked-out windows pulls up in the forecourt.