SHOW IN SAMARA - CAMAPA

I awoke at 10:26, 4 minutes before the alarm went off. I could smell the open sewer again. It was cold in the room, I could see my breath. I got up and turned the radiator back on. I looked out the window of my "barrack" and it was snowing. It looked cold. I opened the door to see if maybe my suitcase was there- it was cold, and no, there was no suitcase. I called the reception, they didn't speak English. They connected me to someone who sounded like they had just been awakened by the phone- they had, it was Valentin. I told him that I was trying to call reception for my suitcase; he said he would call for me. A few minutes later, my suitcase appeared, brought by a guy who looked like he was in an army uniform. The bellman.

I took a shower, got dressed and went out. Achim and Andreas were leaving their barrack as well. We walked to the reception- no one else was there. I walked over to the restaurant- Robbie and Peter were eating breakfast. The restaurant looked like a hunting lodge- log cabin style, with mounted animals all over the walls. I sat and ordered coffee. Francis appeared and sat, then Malte. My coffee arrived, as did two fried eggs. We ate, and then loaded up into the vans and left for the venue. However, we were short one, but the other van didn't know it, but we drove off anyway. A couple of miles down the road, Robbie's van pulled over and said that we had left Ingo. No, really? We headed back to the hotel to get him. Each day gets more annoying here. We picked Ingo up, he said, "You can leave me at the hotel anytime, but never leave me at the gig."

It was a long drive to the venue, 40 minutes. It was a scenic drive, however, once again, a city in complete disrepair. Small houses that looked like they were built straight out of time, 200 years ago. Log cabins everywhere. I've seen larger doghouses in the states.

We passed this large hill; the driver told Irina that it was nicknamed "Refrigerator Mountain" because during the cold war, they had stockpiled food here in case of nuclear attack. He said that they could eat for 5 years on the food that was stored inside the caves. I think we already are- they've been saving it for the dressing rooms and crew room.

We passed a McDonald's sign as we went through the city, even that didn't cheer anyone up.

We arrived at the venue, and yes, yet another Soviet-era hockey arena. The usual stench. The usual state of disrepair. While we are not surprised anymore, it is getting tiring. Nobody cared about shopping. We are all just tired. We are all annoyed. We get into the vans in the morning now and someone inevitably says, "I wonder what surprises they will have for us today?"

We walked into the Crew Room. It seemed okay. Over to Production- okay as well, but connected to Robbie's office is the infirmary, with an older Russian nurse, and all these archaic looking medical devices. Frightening. We'll be staying out of there.

We walked to the stage- first problem- you guessed it- the drum riser. It is 4 feet high! The band will kill themselves trying to climb up that thing. Also, there were no proper areas for Peter, Malte and Ingo to set up their tech areas.

We went away while they attempted to get things in order. Everybody just wants to sleep. Or at least do our gigs. All this waiting is so tiring; at least when you are busy, you can manage to stay awake. These 5 days have been rough, comparable to the start of the tour, and we still have to load out and fly to Rostov-on-Don tonight after the show. We are all looking forward to these upcoming 2 days off; however, we're being told that the hotel in Rostov is the worst of the tour. Figures. I hope they're wrong.

This was another hockey arena. I always go check out the Zamboni, you know, every ice hockey arena has one, it is a vehicle that smoothes out the ice to keep an even surface. So far, every arena has had a "real" Zamboni, so I thought I was out of luck finding a "Russian" Zamboni- well, I was until now. Check out these photos!

I set up my computer in the Crew Room. Two cats came in and joined us. They made me miss my cats. And home. I gave them some milk. They curled up under my chair and went to sleep. Several of the crew were happy to pet them. The cats were cool.

The toilets had seat on them, which was a good thing, but here is something I have said before- and here is a photo to prove that I am not making it up- they use strips of old newspaper for toilet paper- I kid you not. Talk about recycling! Not to mention that you have something to read while you sit.

Time came to order lunch- should I take a chance on the local catering? They didn't even have borscht on the menu. The usual again- chicken, fish, meat. Naw, McDonald's will do the trick.

We finally got to the stage and started load in, but it was already 3 PM by this time. Robbie had called Fieldmarshall Gehrke and said that they would not be able to do a sound check.

Lunch arrived, Royal Cheeseburger, Fish Mac and fries. Better the devil you know…

After lunch, I focused. The band arrived and got to do soundcheck anyway. Queen of Rock was good, some more beautiful girls; these seemed a bit more ordinary. I liked that.

The audience was a bit more subdued that normal. I was so tired during the show. I think everybody is burned out. We are flying to Rostov after the show; I wish I were just going back to my room and to bed. Oh, well, two days off.

The show went well. The audience got better toward the end of the show. This was the last show with this lighting and sound company, named Aleef. They were great, hard working and generally good guys. After we loaded out our gear, we went into the arena and all of us did a toast with vodka. We're gonna miss all these people.

We headed back to the hotel, 40 minutes away. We got back by 11 PM and went straight to the restaurant.

As we were sitting there drinking beer, one of the Russians said something about terrorists in Moscow. We turned up the volume on the TV and tuned it to BBC- nearly a thousand people had been taken hostage in a theater. You know all this by now. The Russians were visibly upset, several of them frantically calling home on their cellphones. Vladimir, our promoter, found out that the VP in charge of Public Relations for SAV, the main promoter group, was in the theater at the time and was now a hostage. Really small world. Really close to home. We gathered around the television for a while, it reminded me of September 11th. Made all of think about things, it is a dangerous world out here, no matter where you go.

I had some borscht, another beer and then packed. We left for the airport at 3 AM. It was a short drive.

We got out of the vans and walked into the terminal- it was as busy as I have ever seen an airport- and it was 3:00 in the morning! Everybody in the crew milled about, buying sodas, water, candy and cigarettes. We went through security- this was real security, so they searched us completely. I mean, we weren't on a commercial flight, but we were still going through the public areas.

We got to the other side, and sat. Everybody is just beat. There was a bar, a few ordered beers, others coffee. There was a gift shop, but it remained closed.

We made our way out to the bus, and got on the plane for the last time. This was a longer flight- over 2 hours. The band arrived and shortly thereafter, we were roaring down the runway. We would gain another hour on this flight, and again, we were 8 hours ahead of EST- Moscow time. The Russians had a bit of a party in the seats behind us, most of our crew just slept, as did I. Not deeply, I just napped. I was comfortable.

We were flying through thick clouds and a bit of turbulence. You could hardly see the navigational lights on the wingtip. Flaps down. Landing gear down. Ailerons out. Suddenly, we broke out of the clouds, 500 feet above the ground. You could see city lights. I could see the dark Don River winding through the city, like a black serpent. There was a huge tanker sailing up the river, it all looked like a model from the airplane.

We went back into the clouds again. I looked for the ground. I could see lights through holes in the clouds, then nothing but clouds. We finally broke out of the clouds at we crossed the runway threshold. We touched down for the last time. It was a good landing, again, the Russian applauded, but this time it seemed a little louder. I think some of us were applauding as well, we had survived. Our little jet took care of us. I pulled out the armrest ashtray and slid it into my pocket as a little souvenir of my journey. I plan to have it mounted on a piece of wood with a plaque. Corny, yes, but life is made up of memories and mementos.

We all sat on the plane a little longer than normal. They power hadn't been connected, so it was still dark in the plane. We were all tired, but I think everybody was a little melancholy as well. Eventually, we all gathered our stuff and made our way down the rear stairs. There were Tu-154's on either side of us. The ROL film crew were filming the band coming down the front stairs. This they did several times, I guess they were getting footage. We sat in the bus and waited, I tried to take photos of all these Russian airliners, but it was so dark, it was hard to get a good shot.

Finally, we left for the terminal. We loaded into a van and headed for the hotel.

20 minutes later, we pulled up in front of another Soviet style hotel. So much for two comfortable days off. Everybody was just beat and disgusted. We got our keys and apprehensively headed up to our rooms. I got into the elevator and pushed 15. It said "Executive Floor." That made me feel a little better. I got of on 15, strolled down the corridor, it looked okay, but still had that "Soviet" feel about it. No "Floor Monitor" here, however. I got to my room, opened the door, and there it was- Executive, yes, but still Soviet style. Dark, depressing…Soviet. All my windows had been taped shut. I opened them anyway; it was hot and stuffy in my room. I was sorely disappointed. A tiny desk, with the phone across the room. I lay on my bed; it felt like a stack of cardboard boxes. The sheets were like sandpaper. I turned on the television. All the Russian stations had something about the hostage situation in Moscow on. I found BBC, but no CNN. Same story, the Russian hostage crisis. It still felt strange, being in Russia while this is happening.

I was tired, but wanted my luggage now, I didn't want to have to get up later and go and get it, so I headed downstairs. There was still no luggage in the lobby. I saw Cliff and his wife, Marina walking to the bar. I followed them down. Cliff Gauntlett is the man in charge of Russia On Line (ROL) and is a great person. This guy is like a legend. He is British, but hardly has an accent. He used to be in the military, he flew Hawker Harriers and has been in Russia for nearly 15 years now heading up ROL. He is also one of the guys who created AutoCAD. The guy rocks. Marina, his wife, is Russian, and is just a stunning beauty, and seems as sweet as can be. It has been a pleasure to work with him, especially around all these idiots and liars.

Cliff told me the luggage was on its way, so I decided to have a beer with him and Marina while I waited. The bar was nice, they had the TV on, and it was about the hostage crisis. Nothing had changed.

I had a beer, we just chatted, and then I went up to the lobby. The luggage was there, and there were all these army guys delivering it. They seem to have the army guys doing everything! But the thought of these same guys in Moscow, plotting and planning a hostage rescue was frightening to say the least. Somebody will forget the bullets, of the grenades, or something. As much trouble as we are having in this country, I thank God that I am not stuck in that theater waiting to be rescued.