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Visit to Frankfurt - Music Messe April 2005
So you needed to be selective about what you wanted to see, and you had to plan ahead to get the best out of things. I did say the decision to go came quite swiftly after musing whether it was a 'must do' visit. One of the reasons for this came out of a change in my routine, I had the time to go, and chatting to an undecided friend in the local pub the Friday before, I said "Let's just do it". A major consequence of this late decision, was availability of places to stay. The event has quite an impact on the hotel capacity of Frankfurt, quite beyond our expectation of "...surely we'll find a small bed and breakfast place and somewhere to shower". This wasn't going to be so easy. Let me take you back to day one. Time was getting on and we
congregated at the
Even better, the Hagstrom connection, how Dick had visited Sweden selling his strings, and ended up buying a Fretless Jazzbass; also how I had purchased Dick's old (Futurama branded) Coronado VI bass complete with spare RotoSound strings. I now need to send old strings back to Jason who stunned me by saying he could tell a RotoSound string just be looking at it. If I sent him some Hagstrom strings he'd verify their origin. Fun eh? (Must do that soon...) Champagne was flowing from the EBS stand, and Bo was starting to distribute Swedish Schnapps to be followed by rousing songs from the home country of Sweden. I'll admit to being completely lost by most of this yet at the same time quite at home with the company of welcoming people. It turns out that Bo who heads up EBS, made his first ever combo-amp for another (known to me) Swedish name, that of Halkan. Now Halkan's Rock House is where my own SuperSwede guitar came from only a couple of years ago! So it seems true that if you know someone in Sweden, you'll probably find they know most other people you've heard of in Sweden too!
Then Paul found he had to go to an EBS meeting that evening. I pragmatically said "fine, I'll stay outside and wait", then we'd move on from there. It turned out that the meeting was actually a meal at a local Vietnamese restaurant, and I was welcome to join them! What can I say to all this hospitality? I find such generosity quite strange in this day and age. What is more, the sense of reality that belied my encounter with Jim, for certain had no less sense of fun! Our large crowd made their way through the roads of Frankfurt, knowing where they were going. I had no idea, apart from the fact that I must not drink, so that I could find the car again later! Paul had bigger and more immediate concerns. The Schnapps had reacted badly, no not by having too much, it was just not to his taste. He was feeling quite ill... yet was making his way to the Vietnamese restaurant along with the rest of the crowd. After all, he was actually qualified to be there! Other (much more important) EBS guests were present for the
meal, and the poor (but rich) restaurateur had to "shoe-horn" a crowd of over
twenty into the annexe that had been reserved. Paul was intermittently present
too, spending quite a lot of the time at a certain small room close by. He was
in a bad way. All this makes conversation a little awkward at times, wondering
what would be the outcome of the evening... finding the car... not getting
partially digested Vietnamese food all over the (well you know), and not least,
where we would actually end up to get a few hours sleep. A few people phoned
back to their hotels to check on our behalf - to no avail.
In my usual pragmatic way I smiled and thanked them for trying, following with gestures of confidence we'd find somewhere (but not believing a word of it). So it was, we ordered a taxi to take us back to the general area of the complex, so we might traipse along roads until we found the car park and the car. The taxi driver spoke no hint of English, and as usual us Brits could speak no German or anything else by compromise. So having established by hand gestures and "Choo-Choo" sounds we needed to find a small train station by the Messe complex we were efficiently despatched to the main Frankfurt Railway station. In frustration, we all went into overtime with descriptive hand gestures and speaking our respective languages with the tone of the other person's language, hoping it made comprehension easier. Of course it didn't, but we all do it, don't we?
Paul was feeling a bit better, but understandably thirsty by now, so I assured him that we would get the car then drive straight back to town to find a hotel and find some water. The taxi driver gratefully accepted his fare of (by now) many Euros, and drove off quite legitimately thinking the English people are mad. So, there were, inside the complex, making plans for how we find the other side, get out again and rejoin the car! An hour later we were approached by a security guard
while wandering through one of the corridors adjoining Hall 5 (maybe),
trying to find Hall 4, and an exit toward our destination. He directed us to
"the last door remaining unlocked", so we smiled and moved on.... very weary by
now. That attaché case felt like a lead weight, my feet felt like two lead
weights, and Paul's face was quite leaden and greyish by now. Once outside again, within the perimeter fence we could see just where we wanted to go. We reached the gate quickly. Reaching the pinnacle of our quest would provide that extra boost to get back to the car. The gate was locked, padlocked, chained, and topped by big spikes that curved inward toward anyone agile enough to attempt a climb. Pragmatism is a good thing at times like this. I suggested a trailer looked quite comfortable, but then came to my senses, suggesting we follow the perimeter fence weaving in and out of service areas, internal car-parks, until we arrived back at the security gate. From there we could walk back again on the outside of the fence, until we arrived at the other side of this entrance... that led the way to the road where the car was parked. (Yes, Phew indeed!) Lights were going off in buildings and we soon realised that the security gate was locked now and that weary guard was back in the comfort of his home with his family until his next shift. We were now inside the spike topped fencing, outside any building or shelter, it was getting cold, and were running out of ideas. We joked and just carried on. Never giving up, and continuing to plan our escape from this secure camp - which was what it had become - our escape to freedom and transport (spooky eh, stuck in Germany, no don't go there Dave)... We found piles of empty pallets and were just about to pile them on one side of the fence, climb up and throw more down the other side, when I noticed a concrete wall section without spikes. This small section was adjacent to one of the entrance gates a small distance away. In addition there was a mud bank which got you most of the way up this wall from the inside, so you only had the twelve foot drop the other side (Ha-Ha! Ha-Ha!, yes the lack of water was leading to delirium by now maybe). It was just after 1am Friday when I finally heaved my ample torso astride this wall, and having seen slim-framed Paul position himself hanging down the outside of the wall, making the final drop much shorter, I decided I had to do the same! The wall was about 15 inches wide at the top, so clinging on to the inner side you crushed your forearms by taking the strain of sliding down the other side. The other consideration was the spikes along the top of the gate, which beckoned you towards them merely inches away at right angles to this short wall section. "Piece of cake" I said as I stood up again and brushed down my jacket and trousers. Looking at the scraped toe-caps of my expensive shoes, I smiled and thought "I actually did that". With relief and disbelief at our good fortune (joke!), we both gave a wry smile and walked surprisingly briskly to where the car was definitely parked... I will admit that a politically incorrect joke about this not being the first time two Englishmen had jumped a wall to escape German capture did come out, but believe me, it really was meant in a very innocent and friendly way!
Nine hotels later, I decided we'd best make our way back to the original car park, and grab a bit of shut eye before the sun came up. I hoped we'd find somewhere to wash within the Music Messe complex later on (gone were any thoughts of an actual shower). At this point I should emphasise Paul and I were pub acquaintances prior to this adventure, and maintaining that distance is less than simple under these conditions. I was never one for scout camps as a boy unless I was singing and playing guitar round the fire. None of these essentials were available. The Opel Astra Estate car didn't mind having the engine running for three hours while we pretended to sleep, and try to avoid getting DVT. The front seats were pulled back as far as they'd go, but you still can't get a position that supports you in a sleeping position, can you! Around 8.30am we decided it was late enough to admit we were both wide awake, so we took it in turns to discretely change some clothes inside the car, while the other stood outside as a lookout, yet in full view of local houses. We then emerged pretending we felt fresh and ready for another day, professionals off to do business! I swapped the brochures in my attaché case for some washing apparel and a small towel fully confident we'd find the necessary facilities if we could just get back inside smelling of sweat and old Vietnamese food and probably worse. Surprisingly full of vigour we made our way back to the Music Messe complex, and with pre-paid tickets, were allowed through that small entrance. A welcome breakfast opportunity arose within minutes, and after, I saw a sign for Men and Women on the side of a utility building. It was early enough in the day to be a fresh and clean facility for those unmentionable start of day activities. Again we took turns to guard the door while the other rounded off the exercise by a strip wash at a basin (not a pretty sight), and we set off for Day Two. I had a meeting with David Lee to come hopefully, and Paul needed to meet up with a guy from Malta.
Page One of this report!
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Plenty has been said already and |
I mentioned
right at the outset that this journey was a bit of an adventure. I have to say
it was great fun, but very tiring for many reasons. Not least the sheer size of
the event, there were at least nine enormous halls and avenues plus marquee
tents the size of supermarkets, and live shows, static displays, plenty of food
and drink at sensible prices (to an English person), and no where near enough
time in a whole week to take it all in.
Eventually we
found the main entrance of Music Messe, it was now getting on for 11pm, the show
was closed, and if you recall, this entrance was completely the other side of
where we believed the car was parked. Much mutterings under breath later the
taxi driver drove right up to the security gate and gestured to go through. A
lonely guard wearily came out and enquired why we wanted to go in now? Through a
combination of suggesting we were trade exhibitors and explaining badly that our
car was parked "over there" somewhere, the guard let the taxi go through just to
get rid of us!
Driving into
Frankfurt at 2am we could only find a MacDonalds open, and despite sign language
and miming turning on a water tap, the only water we could buy had to be fizzy
straight out of the soft drink machines. This stuff when devoid of any
flavouring syrup tastes disgusting and no way resembles Perrier! We made our way
out of this watering hole adorned by very dodgy people in various stages and
reasons of incoherency. Being watched by visiting members of the local Police,
we politely paid full cola price for our "Go-Large H2O+CO2" and made our way
back to the car, and locked it.
