Boot Camp day #9
This is our first day that our class starts at 7AM. I set the alarm for 5AM and get out of bed at like 5:30AM. Shower. Shave.
This weeks classes are mostly about hands-on training on concerning hardware: Acuity, MLC, PortalVision etc. We meet 2 new instructors, that to our detriment will be handling the courses the rest of the week. Thus far I'm not impressed with this pair...read on. The male has trouble connecting his words into sentences and bolts back and forth across the front of the room for no apparent reason. He also has a thing for throwing his arms into the air at odd times puncuating non-essential points. And doesn't seem to know much about what he's teaching. The female is clearly unprepared for this and she too seems easily stumped.
Over the past couple of days I've been working on getting a ticket for tonight's Interpol concert at The Joint located in the Hard Rock Cafe. So, my evening is planned. The seller is flying in from LA and will call me when she gets to the Hard Rock around 4PM. I get "home" at about 3:30PM eat a yogurt, do the treadmill-recumbant bike-elliptical work-out then call her at 5:15PM and she tells me she's in line, "In line?!". Speed to the HRC. I meet her in line we make the exchange and chill in line for about 35min. We're luckily near the front of the line and get inside the club right up to the front of center stage. A very good location considering my wife commands me to take a lot of pictures of Carlos D. I comply. I walk over to the bar buy 2 drinks at a total of $27! Fuck me, 27 dollars for 2 drinks, damn! DAMN! I'll be drinking this hooch nice and slow. I did buy a double Jack Daniel's and soda. The opener was Boom Bip. They remind me of Sonic Youth with a little more ambience and makes me feel like I'm in highschool again with there brackish 90's looks. The house mix is great too. Interpol keep us all waiting by having the guitar tech tune, re-tune and tune again all the instruments. I guess they got hung-up in the casino eh? I take a multitude of photos and for the encore I position myself in front of Carlos to get some better photos of him. I guess I was more aggressive than I thought because at the end of the show as people are clearing-out a girl approaches me and asks if I have a crush on the bass-player...I say, "No, my wife does.". After the show I buy my lady a shirt and since it's only 11PM I try and find a way to get my wife an even better gift of photography by seeking-out the band for a more personal photo or two. [at the Curiosa festival Interpol played and afterwards a couple of my friends out together an after-party at a local art gallery and the guys from Interpol hung-out and I talked the guitar player, Daniel Kessler, for like an hour. In other words, they are a very approachable band.]
I think on my feet and and spy the loading dock where roadies are loading up the 18-wheeler with the bands gear. Walking up the ramp I am assaulted by the smell of refuse and dead animals coming from the trash bin. I spot a rather young-looking (young as in I could prolly lie my way into the backstage area)worker, so I whip out a zinger of a lie and ask, "Have you seen my dad?". He asks what my dad's name is and I reply, "Doc Jones. He told me he works here and to meet him here.". This is my attempt at getting into the venue through the back and snake my way closer to the band. He walks over to another worker, I can't hear what they're saying, but the other worker points him off in another direction. The guy returns and says he can't find Doc Jones and no one's heard of him. "Damn, he told me he works here...thanks.". Now the guy is thinking this dude's dad totally stood him...sorry sucka. I get the car from valet and head back to the hotel for sleep.
This weeks classes are mostly about hands-on training on concerning hardware: Acuity, MLC, PortalVision etc. We meet 2 new instructors, that to our detriment will be handling the courses the rest of the week. Thus far I'm not impressed with this pair...read on. The male has trouble connecting his words into sentences and bolts back and forth across the front of the room for no apparent reason. He also has a thing for throwing his arms into the air at odd times puncuating non-essential points. And doesn't seem to know much about what he's teaching. The female is clearly unprepared for this and she too seems easily stumped.
Over the past couple of days I've been working on getting a ticket for tonight's Interpol concert at The Joint located in the Hard Rock Cafe. So, my evening is planned. The seller is flying in from LA and will call me when she gets to the Hard Rock around 4PM. I get "home" at about 3:30PM eat a yogurt, do the treadmill-recumbant bike-elliptical work-out then call her at 5:15PM and she tells me she's in line, "In line?!". Speed to the HRC. I meet her in line we make the exchange and chill in line for about 35min. We're luckily near the front of the line and get inside the club right up to the front of center stage. A very good location considering my wife commands me to take a lot of pictures of Carlos D. I comply. I walk over to the bar buy 2 drinks at a total of $27! Fuck me, 27 dollars for 2 drinks, damn! DAMN! I'll be drinking this hooch nice and slow. I did buy a double Jack Daniel's and soda. The opener was Boom Bip. They remind me of Sonic Youth with a little more ambience and makes me feel like I'm in highschool again with there brackish 90's looks. The house mix is great too. Interpol keep us all waiting by having the guitar tech tune, re-tune and tune again all the instruments. I guess they got hung-up in the casino eh? I take a multitude of photos and for the encore I position myself in front of Carlos to get some better photos of him. I guess I was more aggressive than I thought because at the end of the show as people are clearing-out a girl approaches me and asks if I have a crush on the bass-player...I say, "No, my wife does.". After the show I buy my lady a shirt and since it's only 11PM I try and find a way to get my wife an even better gift of photography by seeking-out the band for a more personal photo or two. [at the Curiosa festival Interpol played and afterwards a couple of my friends out together an after-party at a local art gallery and the guys from Interpol hung-out and I talked the guitar player, Daniel Kessler, for like an hour. In other words, they are a very approachable band.]
I think on my feet and and spy the loading dock where roadies are loading up the 18-wheeler with the bands gear. Walking up the ramp I am assaulted by the smell of refuse and dead animals coming from the trash bin. I spot a rather young-looking (young as in I could prolly lie my way into the backstage area)worker, so I whip out a zinger of a lie and ask, "Have you seen my dad?". He asks what my dad's name is and I reply, "Doc Jones. He told me he works here and to meet him here.". This is my attempt at getting into the venue through the back and snake my way closer to the band. He walks over to another worker, I can't hear what they're saying, but the other worker points him off in another direction. The guy returns and says he can't find Doc Jones and no one's heard of him. "Damn, he told me he works here...thanks.". Now the guy is thinking this dude's dad totally stood him...sorry sucka. I get the car from valet and head back to the hotel for sleep.
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