Buenos Aires, Argentina
Very slowly I open my eyes and peer around the darkened room. To restore the karmic balance of having had far too much fun, I now have the mother of all hangovers assaulting my skull. I manage to crawl to the bathroom and blindly rifling through my washbag, locate some paracetamol. The breakfast of champions.
Through the throbbing nausea I force myself into the shower and let the hot water try and wash away the sins of last night and then picking up my blackberry I start the gruelling catch up of the day.
I order some food in the vain hope it'll bring me back to life but it's a good few hours before I can look in the mirror without wincing. Fortunately, one of today's interviews has been rescheduled until after the show so there's only one to be done before we depart for the venue.
Alex comes to my room in preparation and I then go in search of guitarist no. 1 to submit him to the inquisition. While they chat away I make it downstairs and grab some coffee, hooking up with one of the tour managers to arrange departure and pick up times. I'm also trying to confirm backstage passes for Lisa, Simon and Agustin to come to the show but the complex ticketing system means they have to go to a hotel on the other side of the city, which is acting as the guestlist pick-up point to avoid chaos and confusion at the stadium.
Emails and texts fly around between Zeb, the production manager, Lisa and me, making all the arrangements and before I know it, I'm racing upstairs to wind up the interview and get us in the vans to the gig.
The traffic is terrible and it takes us 90 minutes to make it over to the Velez Sarsfield Stadium in the Linea area of Buenos Aires. As we arrive crowds of fans are streaming inside and football chants of "Ole, ole, ole, Maaay-deen, Maaay-deen" fill the air. The poor support bands don't stand a chance with 45,000 partisan metalheads in such fine form. It's going to be very different to when the Pope played here back in the '80s!
We say hi to various members of the road crew and grab something to eat from catering, before bumping into a few of the band who have just arrived. Over in production Zeb is sorting out tickets for us all because this gig, like the one to come in Chile, is being recorded for a DVD and there's a huge amount of technical equipment by the mixing desk. So instead of watching the show from there as usual, Zeb's sorted us and other guests some seats in the VIP section of the venue. It's where I've arranged to meet Simon, Lisa and Agustin.
However about 30 minutes before the band are due on stage we discover that some officious jobsworth has locked the doors to the stairs that lead directly from the backstage area to the seats, blocking all our access. Zeb and I run around trying to find someone with the key but the stadium security insist that "the law" requires the door to be padlocked for the duration of the gig. They tell us we have to take all the band's guests through the main entrance of the stadium and find our seats in amongst the throng.
More worryingly, we have to exit the same way which means making it back to the compound to jump in the departing people carriers at the end of the show will be a nerve-wrackingly tight race. If we don't make it in time for the police convoy we'll all be left behind to make our own way back to the hotel. Not a good idea with very little cash, no sense of direction and tens of thousands of people to contend with.
An executive decision is taken to get us all up the narrow walkway through the centre of the crowd and on to the mixing desk as it's the safest place for us to watch the show and still make it backstage, but we're dodging cameras and the surging crowds against the barriers as we go.
The band bursts on stage and the entire stadium goes nuts. The roar of the crowd is utterly deafening, like being stood under a jet engine on take off, and the show progresses at breakneck speed. Suddenly I get a text from Lisa. "We are lost. Where are u?" They've managed to get to the stadium and find their way inside, but as we aren't in the expected seats they don't know how to find us.
In amongst the huge crowd, mobile technology is erratic to say the least and trying to get through to her proves impossible. Instead the message she has sent has obviously got stuck in a loop and every two minutes it buzzes anew. "We are lost. Where are u?"
After 20 minutes, a new text appears. "Hey william, it's simon. We are here in the stadium and would really like to come and find you. This is terrifying. The last gig I went to was britney spears!! x."
A lip-synched pop show to cheering teenage girls and glitter-drenched gay men isn't quite the seething cauldron of masculine fervour that's on display tonight. It transpires that Simon and Lisa have made it out of the seats and onto the pitch and are now stuck in the middle of the moshpit as the crowd goes bananas all around. Deciding that I'll have to try and find them I leave Alex in the relative safety on the mixing desk and make my way back down the narrow walkway, with chanting Argentinians pressing upon me from all sides. It's really quite exhilarating.
Negotiating the photopit, I then step over the barricades into the crowd and like a miracle find Lisa and Simon cowering mere yards away. The look of relief that floods their faces when I grab them is hilarious. I take them backstage to grab a drink and decompress for a moment and they explain the crazy few hours they've just endured.
Having eventually managed to collect their passes from the hotel, they got a lift with some Argentine friends in a beaten up old banger from the '70s. Unfortunately, the driving friend has a somewhat haphazard attitude to the rules of the road and in addition to illegal overtaking, ignoring red lights, racing through bus lanes, speeding and talking exuberantly on his mobile he also swigs beer and smokes pot all while steering with one hand, and quite possibly his knees.
Negotiating the back routes to avoid the highways, it's taken them three hours to get to the venue and Simon in particular is still shaking from the near-death trauma. Combined with the friend's warning to "take your watch off" and to look out for roaming gangs as they wait for Agustin outside, they've had the roadtrip from hell, only to be thrust into a stadium of rabid metal fans with no idea where they're meant to go. They've lost Agustin, couldn't find me, and then couldn't even find the way out of the venue to try and hail a taxi back into the city.
Summoning their courage, I take them back out and up the walkway to the pit where we rejoin Alex on the mixing desk, who has been having the gig of his life. Around us flares are going off, in front of us the band are leading the huge crowd through a heartfelt singalong to 'Fear Of The Dark' and all of a sudden Simon and Lisa break into huge grins and start loving it.
When the enormous Eddie appears during the band's title track they're bouncing up and down with everyone else, caught up in the sheer spectacle.
We watch a couple of encores before all braving the walkway again, back to the pit and backstage area then into the vans awaiting the "Go, go, go!!" As soon as the band are on board, the police convoy kicks into gear and we're back to the hotel in 25 mins, less than a third of the time it took to get there.
We all head to the bar and soon are joined by various band members. It's gone midnight but we have another interview to do, so I set Alex and guitarist no.2 down in a quiet section of the bar, order them some drinks and leave them to chat. Exhausted I decline various offers of libation and just sit quietly watching everyone else starting to wax lyrical as their bar tab increases.
As soon as the interview is done, I thank the band member, say goodnight to Alex and slip away unnoticed from the throng. I can't face another night spiralling out of control so am safely tucked up in bed by 1.30am; an early night by touring standards!
