We get on a plane at 6am. We finished packing up the gear from the gig at 2am. We didn't bother to go to sleep. We'll sleep on the plane (yeah right). On the plane johnny is seated next to Martin from Therapy? who is flying back to play . . . you guessed it, the Ozzfest. WAY higher up the bill than us of course. Small world eh?Midnight arrival at heathrow airport in London. "BING BONG - Could Messers Carter, Clayden, Clayden, Davies and Walters please report to the baggage claim attendant." Doom. We are doomed. They don't announce your name unless there's a big barrel of doom waiting for you. We drag ourselves to the baggage claim. Franz Kafka is working the counter. It looks bad. Our spare guitars are still in Dallas. They didn't even make it from the conveyor belt to the plane. The woman at the check in was so damn lazy I had to put the guitars on the conveyor belt myself. All they had to do was get the fuckers from the 20 yards from the conveyor belt to the plane. Bastards.
We get to London at 11pm and I get a promise from the woman at the bag reclaim that the guitars will get delivered by 1pm tomorrow at the latest. Yeah. We're on at 12 mid day, so a fuck load of use that'll do us anyway.
In anticipation of this situation we all carried the main guitars onto the plane in soft bags and stowed them in the overhead lockers. Not that our lack of confidence in airline efficiency is in any way justified regularly . . . We all crawl into bed at 2am. The van is coming for us at 6am. Nice.
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