I don't really know how it worked out, but when we vacated our apartment in SF from May through August, one of my best friends moved in. From Denver, where Arthur had been living for the past few years.
It worked out perfectly for everyone. At least until our building's manager intimidated him and he felt it imperative he find his own place, well in advance of our return.
But he did water our plants for a couple of months. Better yet, a buddy moved to town, for good, as it turned out.
Just Say You're On Vacation The general approach globally was for the Deployment Engineer to arrive in a city on a Thursday, and introduce themselves to the office staff on Friday. Saturday and Sunday were their big work days, the idea being to minimize the impact on office operations. Do some clean-up/organizing on Monday, and with any luck, the respective engineer would have a day or two to catch their breath before moving to the next city.
In each, the required precursors were the office having modern network cabling and equipment racks (which ITS installed where it was necessary) in place, and the office itself being connected to the Internet and the other offices via the new Equant broadband connection.
Early on, I had decided I was going to accompany Luigi Ferrari on what would be the very first office installation, for which I had selected Antwerp, due to its proximity to London. It would allow me to observe what each of our technicians might face, and it was a wise decision.
Julie, on vacation for the summer, also joined us (on our own dime shilling, of course), which was also a smart decision. Mostly.
The crazy thing is the trip was completely and joyfully uneventful, until the very end.
The 3 of us checked in to the Antwerp Hilton, located in this charming city's historic center. Luigi, a friend by this point, was confident all of our planning was about to pay off, and that these office deployments, or at least this one in Antwerp, would go smoothly.
I was not confident; indeed, I was a wreck.
But Luigi was right. By Sunday, he had the entire office up and running on the new gear and connected to the world via broadband, and Monday would mostly be for saying goodbye to the office staff. He was very gracious in complementing the documentation I had provided - he said it made getting an office done a matter of ticking off a checklist of to-do's, "None of which are difficult," he insisted.
I at first didn't believe him, but it was true. It looked like if 1) the gear was there, 2) the office infrastructure was there, and 3) the office broadband circuit was up this would be a straightforward deployment, almost everywhere.
Maybe - we were talking about 31 other cities, and each would surely present unique challenges.
Now? Shocker, but it was time to celebrate.
Despite it being a Monday night, I don't recall there being a lack of choices. Antwerp, like many places in continental Europe, gets started late. So the three of us grabbed some fine Belgian ales at a cafe starting around 9 PM and then sat down to dinner at 10 at a restaurant nearby.
Like elsewhere in London Calling, we didn't hold back in Antwerp. I am sure it was a 2 - 3 hour dinner, with several courses, complimented first by Champagne and then bottles of other French wines. Port or cognac was also certainly in the mix at the end.
It was now time for a nightcap.
I have no idea where we ended up, but like every other bar in Antwerp we visited, it was perfect. At the time, the thing to do if you were a bar there was to proudly display the jewel boxes of the hundreds or thousands of CDs at your disposal. The result was great music in every bar, and they all seemed to be trying to outdo each other.
Our final stop was cosmopolitan and no exception in terms of music. The place was dark, nicely but sparsely furnished, and featured a sound system and musical taste that made even me happy. When the insanely moody Morphine song Whisper came on, I knew we were in the right place.
As I've mentioned previously, it was here that we had several - like 5 or 10 each - kopstootje - Dutch for blows to the head. A kopstootje consists of a shot of genever (Dutch gin), chased by a beer.
And yes, it was here that some rich Greek guy named Dimitri (true) hit on my wife, up to and including grabbing her ass (also true).
But we, including Julie, were all far too trashed to care. It was also 4 AM, and we all vaguely knew our flight from Antwerp to London City Airport departed at 8 AM. Time to go.
Although it was a challenge, we somehow made it back to the hotel. Luigi got to his room, and in our own, we managed to set a wake-up call . . . for two hours later. We then both instantly passed out.
The worst part of it was we weren't just hungover - it was more akin to alcohol poisoning. I do not know how we made it to the airport in time for our flight. I vividly recall not only sweating like Sinatra (as I am wont to do anyhow, under the best of circumstances) but that it was Dutch gin and not just sweat oozing from my pores.
No shower could fix this, although we tried. Julie, Luigi, and I were all in the same condition: Ready for detox, and decidedly not international travel.
So it is with some empathy for my wife Julie that I tell the rest of the story of our business trip to observe the program's first deployment in Antwerp.
No one at General Electric, GE Capital, Genstar, Sea Containers, or GESeaco had even hinted that I might need a work permit to legally do what I had been doing in London since September 1997. After all, I was paid in the United States by an American company, and I already had a ticket to fly home in September. I was not seeking health or any other benefits from the United Kingdom.
Still, I always answered "visiting on vacation" when asked by UK customs why I was coming into the country. I had told Julie to say likewise: "I'm on vacation." Indeed, we had just said these same things clearing Belgian customs on the way in.
Upon returning to British soil, though, Julie forgot about something.
We somehow survived the flight from ANR to LCY, meaning none of us got sick or worse. But wow we must have been some sight as we stumbled off the plane and into the customs line to enter the UK.
I stepped up, said I was on vacation when asked why I was visiting England, had my passport stamped, and in I went. It was now Julie's turn.
"What is your reason for visiting the United Kingdom," mumbled, albeit in the Queen's English, the gruff customs agent.With all of the brightness she could muster in our condition, Julie said, "I'm on vacation. With my husband, he's up ahead."
"Oh, and what's your husband doing here?"
"He's working!" said Julie and that was that.
The agent asked me to stop and then requested to see my work permit.
"Work permit?" I replied, "I'm only consulting here temporarily."
That didn't fly, so to speak. This do-gooder of a border guard explained that even if I were in town for one single hour of consulting, I still needed a work permit.
"Huh?" "But?"
My eloquence made no difference.
Our passports were revoked at London City Airport, mid-morning on Tuesday, 9 June 1998. This is what that looks like.
At the Weekend, Act II Sure, we had no passports now. That didn't stop us. At all. Take (a) Bath on The Orient Express (17 June) Quick to sympathize with the immigration bullshit, Martin Denny took matters into his own hands. Not with Her Majesty's Immigration Service, but with a Sea Containers subsidiary, The Orient Express Railway. As it happens, not all of their lines are long and overnight, nor just between London and Venice. Some are day trips from London to the ancient Roman city of Bath, west of London, and back.
With a free bottle of Champagne on the way home, also compliments of Martin. We're nicely into it by now in this picture, if I recall correctly.
I Bought a Tuxedo in SF For It (19 June) Sadly, we have no photos of The Sea Containers Summer Ball, for which I purchased my one and only tuxedo (at the Howard Blum fave Kenneth Charles) in April before moving over for good.
But we do have Julie's diary entry for the evening.
Summer Ball tonight. Formal attire, dinner, and dancing at The Astoria Hotel and then a 1:30 AM taxi through the beautiful, deserted streets of London. We had a blast!!!
Martin Denny and Us in Our Element (3 July) Holy mother of God, there is indeed a center of the universe for pretension, arrogance, and just good old-fashioned snobbery. Welcome to The Henley Royal Regatta, first contested in 1839. This was easily a highlight of the summer; heck, I did my first (and last) bump of snuff here, with Martin.
Here he is, in a photo that fully captures this man's spirit, at an event that meant the world to him.
Understandably.
We did, however, almost die going to, and coming back from, this splendid event. Martin was a fabulous guy in nearly every capacity - except for driving. We still talk about it.
My Introduction to The Sea Containers Cocktail (5 July) In what was another of several invites to my colleagues' own homes, Malcolm and Linda Graveling invited us over for a Sunday piss-up, on what was the 4th of July holiday weekend in the U.S.
At the Graveling's party, I naturally never let them forget the American victory over British tyranny a couple of hundred years prior.
And they never let me forget how I fell out of my chair after one too many Sea Containers Cocktails.
Sea Containers Cocktail (excerpted from my It's Happy Hour! book)
One Part LBV, Tawny, or Vintage Port
One Part Metaxa 7 Star or other Brandy
Combine in a proper brandy snifter and serve neat.
Passport Smassport (10 - 12 July)
We found out that UK Immigration would give us our passports back temporarily for a trip abroad, as long as we understood they'd have to be surrendered upon our return.
Knowing that, we naturally went to Amsterdam at the weekend, as I didn't want Julie to feel left out, what with my and George Valiant Walker's trip in March.
We now were pros at Sauna Deco, and already had our favorite brown bars and coffeeshops. At the latter, the legendary but now-closed De Rokerij, we even got a Dutch language lesson, on the back of a coaster.
Fun Fact: I believe I found the same Richard Van Leeuwen on LinkedIn.
They Loved JFK, Too (19 July) It was almost like my Seaco chums had it planned, but another Sunday, another lovely day out, this time starting at the home of Peter and Eve Carolan. They, too, would become friends and this day stands out because I was especially moved by the two monuments we saw, one the site of the signing of the Magna Carta, the other the British memorial for John F. Kennedy. The latter was nice because I didn't need a passport: I was standing on American soil.
To Peter Carolan, who passed in the early 2020s: Rest in peace, mate. What a great bloke.
Miles Davis and Us (25 - 26 July) Passports now firmly in our grasp, and Julie having practiced saying the phrase "we're on vacation" many times, we took the Eurostar to Paris for a Saturday night stay.
Which was the time we were dining in a cool Left Bank brasserie in the Saint-Germaine and chatted up an older American couple sitting at a table next to us.
And I nearly choked on my escargot when the guy explained he had personally signed Miles fucking Davis to Columbia Records in the 1950s.
Sheep and Us (7 - 9 August) Julie's father Davis Fladgate and his wife Melynda came to visit. In between shopping for English-themed Beanie Babies and something equally faddish from Cadbury chocolates, we managed to make it out to what would become one of my favorite places anywhere, The Cotswolds.
I think we've now been a total of 5 different times, and is it magical. But a warning: It's no secret anymore and the last time we visited, the region was starting to take on the less desirable qualities of a place like Napa Valley.
And They're Off! (10 August) I honestly don't know how Randy Smee and I were able to tear ourselves away from the office on a Monday. But tear (and quaff) we did, along with some bigshot telecom guy whose name I don't recall, at Royal Windsor Racecourse. And directly at the rail, to boot.
Jim Lawrence Has Broadband (23 August) This was our last day out before going home, and we stretched it until 2 AM with Jim and his great wife Julie. It turned out Jim and Julie were among the first people I'd met with broadband Internet connectivity at home. So we geeked out and drank for hours, after first visiting the stunning Hever Castle, where Anne Boleyn, queen consort of King Henry VIII, had lived.
We got so buzzed on Jim's great whiskey that I found the website deanclough.com very interesting. For some reason.
Up Next: We They Did It
FROM THE UNWASHED MASSES
Always great to hear from Bulleit Bob, who sent along this beautiful picture of a late-season snowfall in Tupper Lake. Let's hope the skies clear there by The Totality - the Adirondacks are on the path of the total eclipse of the Sun on the 8th.
And this is a special shout-out to a very kind fan of this blog, pictured here when she was just a bit younger.
Thank you for reading this newsletter.
KLUF
If you've noticed, throughout the series, I've studiously avoided The Clash and their album London Calling - it would be just too obvious. But I can't resist something almost as predictable for today's London Calling. Here, from the EP on which it originally appeared, is "I Fought the Law" (and also "Groovy Times" and 2 other tunes) from The Clash EP The Cost of Living.
