There was me, Mac, and Shameless playing in the walking street in Lyon, France. Mac was on violin, me on silver flute and Shameless on the guitar and sometimes bodhran. Since the other guys didn't speak French and were either too proud or too shy, I did all the bottling.
Towards the end of our last pitch, there was this petite little girl standing there with starry eyes. Well, we all knew what was happening, and I went over and started chatting to her. We stopped playing and then went to a bar to get to know each other a little better. She told me she was Spanish and that she was 19 years old. After a while we made a date to get together that evening in Croix Rousse because we were going to play a few bars up there.
Somebody told us about this wild bar that you could go to that was open all night. So after busking a couple of places up the hill, we made our way down to that place.
When we got there, the girl at the door told us that it was a "club" and that you had to be a member to get in, then she gave us all free cards.
They had a piano there and we all had a big jam. Wow, what a place this was! Everybody was dancing on the tables smoking joints and having an incredible sloshed party. We got all our drinks for free (as usual), and after a while I decided it was time to try it on this girl.
I said, "Would you like to see the Mars Bar?" The Mars Bar was this beat up old blue Renault fourgonette that we were driving around in and sleeping in. She said "Sure".
Off we went down the street to where it was parked. I opened up the back door to climb in, and she was so hot she couldn't even control herself, she was really breathing heavy and I hadn't even touched her! I had only barely closed the door, when she grabbed me and started ripping my clothes off. She was so hot, she went absolutely wild. I sort of expected a bit of kissing and the usual objections etc. but she was a raving bundle of animal urges in my arms and she couldn't my cock up inside her fast enough. We got it on like crazy, and she must've cum three times in the first five minutes. It was all I could do to keep control of myself and not shoot my wad immediately. Finally, she begged me to give it to her all, and man did I ever! Whoooo
Then we got dressed, she gave me her phone number and went home. I went back to the bar to get the other guys, who by this time had drunk themselves into a stupor and practically had to be carried down the hill.
I met Cidalia at the station, and we went to this friend of Weasel's house where the whole band was crashing and generally making a nuisance of themselves. As soon as we got to the house, me and her went straight into the bathroom, and true to form - she couldn't wait to get screwed.
After a little while, some of the guys started screaming obscenities and threats, so we had to cut it a bit short.
The gig was on a little stage they'd set up right next to some funky old castle outside of town. It was a really good concert and the audience loved us. The organizers gave us a guided tour of the castle too, which since it's partially a private residence, was a real privilege - they treated us like kings and the food was great.
Later on in the night, the festival was beginning to wind down, and some people offered to give me and Cidalia a ride back to the hotel where the organizers had arranged for us to spend the night. I went over to Weasel the lead singer (who was sitting alone drunk and cursing to himself about his inability to get any pussy) to tell him that Cidalia and me were going back to the hotel. His response was "Good! Fuck off and leave me the fuck alone". That was fine with me, the two of us hopped in the back of this couple's "Canard" and shortly we were at the hotel.
The people drove off, and then we noticed that the door was locked. Some hotels in France don't have night porters and it turned out this was one of them. So I banged on the door and banged, and banged and kept on banging hoping that if anyone was in the hotel that they would come down and let us in.
Nobody ever did. It was already 2:30 in the morning, and by all indications the guys in the band were going to make an all-nighter out of it. After standing around for over an hour freezing to death and making enough noise to wake the dead, I broke the goddamn glass door and we went up to our room and had a good screw before passing out.
By the time the rest of the band rolled in, we were already fast asleep. In the morning we had to be out by 10:30 am. We were all rousted out of bed and herded down to the breakfast room to have our coffee and croissants (I don't like coffee, and croissants are not my idea of a healthy breakfast either - I could've stayed in bed for another half hour while those guys indulged in their early morning "Continental" ritual).
I was determined not to look guilty, which wasn't difficult since I didn't feel I was. In fact, none of the people at the hotel asked anybody any questions and we went our hungover way soon after.
It turned out that Weasel had the keys in his pocket the whole time - I suppose that was his idea of a joke to leave me and my girlfriend standing around in the middle of nowhere teeth chattering in the dead of night.
After everybody got their bad breath and smelly feet into the back of the bus, they started giving me early morning lectures on my lack of social graces. Weasel's bad mood from the night before wasn't getting any better.
When the car broke down about 50km from Le Puy, Weasel got so pissed off he couldn't even talk - which I suppose was preferable to the alternative. So there we were, in the middle of a field with no dope, no beer and miles from the nearest village.
It was Sunday, so it was almost an hour before Weasel finally caught a ride back to his friend's place (who thought he'd finally gotten rid of us). All these bad vibes were getting to me too, so I pulled the mattress out of the back of the van, and me and Cidalia tried to catch a few zzz's under the trees while the others over at the van played tunes.
Little did I know that that part of France is full of poisonous snakes, and when one of them slithered across us just as we were beginning to doze off, Cidalia had a fit of the screaming mimis.
Weasel and his friends and a couple of other guys showed up not long after that and we towed the car back to his friend's house. The "friend" was obviously not happy to see the lot of us back in his living room just as he'd managed to get it cleaned up again, and the atmosphere was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
It didn't matter whether we were in Denmark, the South of Spain or wherever, he would drive non-stop all night long to have her pay tribute to his groupie-less hard-on.
Small surprise then that he announced he was leaving for Paris as soon as the van was fixed. Well, our next concert wasn't for another month, and I'd be damned if I was going to spend the next four weeks busking in the fucking Metro.
Just between you and me, the Paris Metro has got to be the gloomiest place in the world to play music: Jump the barriers, worry about the pigs and the controllers, look at the tombstone eyes rolling down the escalator, the loudmouth bums, ho man you can keep it.
So Cidalia and me took the next train to Germany. No matter what anybody says about Das Vaterland, it's the buskers' bread-and-butter-land. Besides they've got (or they had) more pianos in their freaky bars than any other country in Europe, and I knew 'em all.
During the days, I'd do ten pitches a day on the streets and terraces with the flute, and at night we'd do the bars with pianos with her bottling and free drinks on the house, AND with a bit of hustling - a free crash on somebody's floor. Poor Cidalia couldn't speak a word of Deutsch, but she'd never been there before so maybe it wasn't all bad.
One night somebody gave me a hit of acid, and I fucked her all night long, one after the next. She was so sweet and accommodating, what a girl! That was the first time I had ever had sex while ripped on psychedelics, it was a strange new world, moving through a universe of pleasure, colors, and sensation.
Naturally I felt horrible the next day, but I already knew I would anyway because you can't sleep on that shit no matter what you do.
Before going back to Paris to meet up with Weasel. I dropped her off in Lyon. We went to her folks' place on some holiday or other, and had an amazing meal together with her family.
Her only fault was that she was a pathological liar: she wasn't 19 and she wasn't Spanish - she was Portuguese and 26. These weren't the only lies she would tell people either, she would lie just for the fun(?) of it.
But I knew she was crazy in love with me. I broke her heart and I still regret it to this day. Even so, it wasn't my destiny to spend my life with her.
I'm sorry if I hurt you Cidalia - really.