Below you'll find the full report of nine days spent in South America.
It's rather long, longer that most college term papers, and it probably
took more time to write. So grab a cup of you're favorite drink, a spot
in you're favorite chair, and join Elena Espinoza, Nico Ford, Darci
Chapman, Christian Limpach, and me, on The South American Odyssey...
PS: My apology if this fills up your mailbox.
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Introduction:
The idea of going to South America to see U2 was first mentioned to me at
the Old Spaghetti Factory in Seattle, by Elena Espinoza, the night after
the Seattle POP Mart concert which closed the 1997 tour. Feeling sad that
the tour appeared to be over for me, and getting the chance to go to
Buenos Aires for a week, made me quickly say yes. Over the next month we
made plans, added new people and lost others in our merry band of
travelers. I even came really close to backing out. Am I glad I didn't?
You bet your ass I am! Nine days traveling around Brazil and Argentina
with four great friends, and going to four of the best shows I've ever
seen. Certainly a trip that I'll never forget. This is the story.
Friday 1/30/1998 - New York City - Leaving for Sao Paulo
The plan: Leave work at 5pm, stop at my apartment, pick up my backpack and
the Wire banner, then take the A train and bus to the airport. Sounds
easy enough, but nothing could have been further from the truth. I left
work at 5:00 as planned and hopped on the F train at Broadway/Lafayette
St. I was on schedule until the train got to East Broadway, then
everything started to fall apart. They announced that there was a fire on
the tracks ahead, everyone had to leave the train, and move to the back of
the station. I expected a short wait, it turned into a half hour delay
until the next F train arrived (the train I was on went out of service).
I still had over two hours to get to the airport, and the poster on the
train said it was about 70 minutes from lower Manhattan, so I was still
ok. I raced home from the station, the Wire banner was waiting, changed
into a pair of shorts, grabbed my backpack, the banner, and back to the
subway. As I got to the station the G train was about to leave, but I
passed on it, waiting for the F, my first mistake. It took about 10
minutes for the F to come. Ok, I was starting to worry a little. As we
pulled into Jay St. the A train I needed was arriving, unfortunately I had
to crossover, and the stairway I took at the end of the platform didn't
allow for cross overs. I quickly turned around and ran for the next one,
made it across, just in time to see the doors jerk open and closed. I had
missed it. I nervously waited as a C train, the other A, and another C,
came and went. Finally an A, to Far Rockaway, pulled into the station,
still plenty of time. The train seemed to move at a snails pace while
time seemed to accelerate. The usual strange assortment of fellow
passengers helped to keep my mind off the ticking clock, but only briefly.
There was the woman picking her nose across from me, a woman singing Bob
Marley's "Don't worry about a thing, every little thing is gonna be all
right" by the door, and next to me a woman having a long running
conversion with what appeared to be several people, visible only in her
mind. The A train pressed on through the tunnel.
As we emerged from the subway with the elevated tracks ahead there was a
still about an hour to go. The cold air blowing through the open door
sent a chill across my legs, as my stomach did the tango. As we left each
station I was sure they would announce JFK as the next stop, but stop
after stop I was disappointed. When the train finally got to the JFK stop
there was less than an hour left. I raced to the bus, found that Varig
was in terminal 7, and bus B would take me there. I boarded the bus with
some strange looks, "What you never seen someone in shorts when it's 40
degrees outside?" I waited and waited as a few more people boarded, and
finally the driver. This was going to be so close and thoughts of missing
the flight, and the Sao Paulo show raced through my mind. We twisted
through the parking lot, passing pickup points with no people, the Tower
Air terminal, and finally out onto the highway. I saw the sign for
Terminal 7, we passed 2 and 3 without stopping, and appeared to be heading
for 7 when we pulled off for stops 4W and 4E. I could no longer sit
still, continuously checking my ticket, I couldn't even remember the
flight number, as my mind was now racing, the clock ticking. Less than a
half hour till takeoff and we were not even at terminal 5!
Quickly through 5 and 6, then pulled into 7. "Where is Varig!" I scream,
"Inside, upstairs." I ran up the escalator, "Where the fuck do I go!"
Around the corner, back outside. "Where is Varig! Varig!" "The other end
of the terminal, by United" I ran through the terminal at top speed, but
no sign of Varig, where are the TV screens with the flight information?
Ok, found one, Flight 865 to Sao Paulo, Gate 10. The entrance is right
next to me, but I need to show my boarding pass, which I don't have, just
a printout STA gave me. After some frantic screaming I got past the
security guard, ran to the X-Ray machine. Straight through the metal
detector with no problems, but they want to check my backpack. "My flight
leaves in 10 minutes!" "Don't worry, you still have time" "Look it's just
my camera, some vitamins, film, and a small amount of C4" Well, I skipped
the part about the C4, these airport secu