Having kissed the grail and dodged a bullet, we four made our way into the late night of the Big Smoke.  What followed that evening were your typical happenings of a lads night on a tear.  We went directly form the Grey Cup Game to a late ceremony at a near by Holy House to confess our sins of deception to the higher powers on the altar before us.  One member of our congregation was so wracked with guilt, that he was almost drawn to a private confessional for an individual forgiveness session, as the general absolution would so clearly not provide him with the necessary relief.

Feeling much better, we left the Holy House, and went to a local library to read up on the classics as well as current events, followed by a relaxing session of Yoga.  Then we drifted off into a peaceful sleep at around 11pm.

That’s how I choose to remember it, anyway.

I woke on Monday morning with an odd feeling of slight nausea, headache, and dry mouth.  Must have been the hot dogs at the game, I suppose.  I made my way to the hotel lobby in search of medicinal caffeine and noticed the some of the Trailer Park Boys waiting near the concierge.  After some morning pleasantries, I learned that they were suffering from many of the same symptoms as I.  That confirmed it.  It MUST have been the hot dogs at the game.

They explained that they were heading back East, and I should have said something like, “Oh too bad. We’re sticking around for a few more nights.  We could really use you guys to keep the party going.”   However, my malaise afforded me no political correctness and I quickly doted, “Thank F**%”.  Hope the boys understand.  I’m sure they were eager for a quiet night as well.

There would be no quiet night for me, however, as GBS agreed to sing a few songs for the Gilda’s Club concert, along with Nelly Furtado and Anne Murray.  We had a quick sound check at the Elgin Theatre at around 2pm.  No big deal as we were to just sing a couple of a cappella tunes.  

It was all really low key and casual till the stage lady approached me as we left and asked if I knew any Anne Murray tunes.  I told her that I’m from Atlantic Canada, so I know every Anne Murray tune.  She then asked if I’d mind joining Anne singing “Could I have this Dance” for the Finale.

Would I mind singing “Could I have this Dance” with Anne Murray, the Queen of Nova Scotia.  

“No, Love.  I don’t think I’d mind that at all.” I said aloud.

“Holy Shite.  I am going to sing live on stage with Anne friggin’ Murray.” I said to myself.

I spent the rest of the afternoon doing what every good musician does on the road in late November; shopping for Christmas presents. A long time ago, I learned there is much credit to offering presents on a St. John’s Christmas morning that had been bought weeks previous on the Mainland.  

As requested by the organizers, we made our way to the gig around 6:30 and did, well, nothing.  We sat backstage for almost two hours waiting for the show to start.  I can never understand the paranoia that some event planners experience when it comes to Talent tardiness.  In complete contradiction to the stereotype, I don’t know a single professional entertainer who is regularly late. The number of times GBS has been late for a curtain call through some fault of ours could quite possibly be zero.  Why in God’s name do they ask us to be here under lock and key and babysitting eyes for a dog’s age before a two song set.  I felt like saying,

“I appreciate your concern, Madam.  But, you see, this concert thing; we’ve done this a few times now.  Why, just a couple of nights ago, we somehow got all band and crew members on stage on time in a professional manner.  And, come to think of it, a few nights before that, we managed the same feat.  So, no worries, Doll, when the dude says our name, we’ll be ready to roll.”

But this is a charity event and one should not complain.  Can you tell this kind of thing is a bit of a Pet Peeve of mine?

So, we got on stage sang a couple of tunes.  They seemed well received. Myself and Bob were escorted to a media scrum and answered some questions about the Charity and the event and some general stuff about what lies ahead for GBS.  

Not long after that, it was time for Anne’s performance.  I very briefly met Anne Murray at an East Coast Music Awards a number of years ago but I have never seen her perform in person.   When I was young, Anne Murray was worshipped in my house and probably every house in Atlantic Canada.  She was also a bone fide International Rock Star.  She still is.

I nipped out to the wings to watch Anne’s set.  Her voice has is perfectly preserved.  Sounds as good as ever; high notes and all.  Nelly F joined her for Daydream Believer, I think and then it was time for the Finale.

A bunch of us hung out on stage side, waiting for the cue.  Anne started with “I’ll always remember…”  When the second chorus came around, I did not hesitate for a second.  I went right to center stage and joined Nelly and Anne.  As the chorus repeated, Anne stepped back and gave me a nod and a gentle pat on the back.  I had to return the favour, so I nodded back in that, ‘nicely sung, we’re in this song together kind of way, and oh so respectfully patted he on the back gave her a quick but certain Newfoundland wink.  

I had laid my hands on the Grey Cup and Anne Murray in less than 24 hours.  Oh Canada.

Following the concert, there was a reception, where I chatted with some folks for the first time, like Jeannie Becker from the Fashion Industry, as well as old friends like Denise Donlon.  There were a few glasses of wine and dandy food everywhere but near me.  

By midnight, I was spent, and wanted nothing more than a night in the bunk.  But there was a problem.  Half of our party, myself, Perry, Allan, were to stay in the big city for the Habs/Leafs game the next day and were eager to rest up for the big night.  Sean’s group were heading back home the next day and were eager to exorcize any demons they had left before heading back to their lives and responsibility.  They were not about to let us wimp out.

So, Allan H bailed for his apartment and Perry and I had to get back to the hotel and in the room before the rowdy party noticed us missing.  We bolted well ahead of them and had a nice buffer to get us in bed.  So great was our lead that I got cocky and convinced Perry to nip into the 24hour Tim Horton’s for a sandwich.  He protested, convinced that this would get us caught, and worse again, the presence of the pansy late night snack would double our punishment.

He was right.

Just as we left Tim’s, Sean’s entire party took to frolicking in the main entrance of the Hotel.  We were shagged.  What to do?  We noticed the large revolving door and made a break for it.  We stood just outside the hotel and gestured to the partiers inside.  As they made their way towards us in one side of the revolving door coming out, we dove into the opposite side heading in.  

To a chorus of “Hey, where do you think you’re goings?” Perry and I ran through the lobby and up the steps to our floor.  We knew that by the time the revolving doors came around again, we could be out of sight.  We snuck from one hallway to another clutching our Tim’s Ham and Cheeses to our chests.  Two grown men like school boys on the pip.  Sad, but necessary and effective, maneuvering.  We made to the safety of our Suite, locked the door, and jammed a chair up against the door.

We were asleep in 20 minutes.

Fresh as Daisy’s we, woke and gathered at the Air Canada Center for the Leafs and Habs morning skates.  A good man arranged for a few of us to attend this generally closed practice and warm up.  It was so cool to see the players just having fun on the ice.  Before any of the drills and set plays began, they just did their own thing.  Some shot pucks at targets, some skated backwards and forwards or in circles, while others just stretched.  All of them seemed to skate to a quiet part of the ice and take a moment or two to enjoy the emptiness of the massive rink. Perhaps they were reminding themselves that their decades of hard work had led then to this reward; playing their favourite game on the biggest hockey stage in the world.  Very cool to watch.

Another good man arranged for our entire party, to have rink side seats for the game with access to the Presidents Club.  Myself, Perry, the Hawco’s and Barry C, all donned suits and dined on Roast Beef before the game in a private club right behind the players bench.  It was hockey luxury.  

The game was a nail biter with Captain Mats Sundin scoring the tying goal for the home team with only seconds to go.  Overtime settled nothing, so the game went into a Shootout.  The Habs score the winner in three or four shots.  What a night.

We all straggled back to the hotel and listened to some rough mixes of the new GBS CD.  The lads seemed to genuinely like the tunes, which is always encouraging.  There are a few numbers on this recording that are unlike anything we’ve ever done.  I was very curious to see how they would react.  I wonder do our friends and family know that we use them as test groups?

After a few wines and a few hours sleep, myself and Perry made our way to the airport for the flight to St. John’s.  I have no memory of this flight.  It was one of the greatest lads weekends out in my history.  Great cast and spectacular itinerary.

When we got off the plane in St. John’s a kind lady drove us home in a van loaded with rum and other spirits.  It felt strangely appropriate.

Cheers,
Alan