Athens 2001

Text only version.

No one will believe these tales, and my own memories may begin to be suspect in my own mind – this show/adventure has exceeded all expectations. So, a few quick notes.

At the airport: Do we have a phone number to call these guys? If no one’s here, where do we go? No body knows where we’re staying. How about customs? We have 50 cd’s and 30 7” singles each in our suitcases. Will this be a financial disaster? No one really knows the answers. ( I do have a phone #.)

After locating the correct baggage pickup (this is scary, there is no one to stop anybody from walking off with whatever bag they like) ((the guitars are still here)) we walk through the door and people start screaming….

Unfortunately, we’re all too shocked to take a photo of the event, but 20-25 people are holding a huge Brocas Helm banner (used later at the show) and chanting our name. I guess we have a ride.

On to customs. Do we have to go through? Well, there’s no one there, so it doesn’t matter. Too much worrying for no reason. And I’m told this is the toughest time of the year for customs.

As celebrities, we’re split up one to a vehicle. Nearly everyone speaks some English, even me.

It’s raining out, but the dreaded (by rumor) road from the airport is their new freeway (tollway, actually). It’s just been built for the upcoming Olympics. Much of the town is undergoing renovation for the same.

The cars slide back and forth on the slick surface as we race pell mell towards downtown. Everyone likes the phrase “Slow drivers out of my way!” (a quote from the Black Death album.) I’m kind of grinning to myself, because I grew up driving like this; but I know Bob and Jack are probably a bit nervous. From further observations, it seems that almost everyone in the whole damn place can drive well, compared to 10 percent in America. The only accident I see is when one moped and pedestrian get too close, and the peds briefcase gets knocked out of his hands. Stop, pick it up, go on your way. No problem.

A brief stop at the hotel. We stash our bags and stuff, then are taken to a heavy metal café. Drinking and questions abound. We are treated better than royalty, more like gods. During the entire stay, no one will let us spend any of our own money.


The first poster we see is right across the street from the hotel, on the front of what would be a deli here. In no time at all, I’ve seen several in the area. The hall where we will play is only a block from the hotel, very convenient. The café we go to has a poster on the door. While we are there, I have a good view of the entrance. Occasionally customers come in, see us, and momentarily freeze in shock. Some are actually trembling and shaking, telling us they cannon believe how honored they are to be in our presence. Several members of the other bands which will play at the show tell us we are the very reason for their existence, and their spiritual fathers.


Our heads swell so much we will have trouble getting back out the door.

Much drinking follows.

More drinking follows.

As expected, no one can believe that I don’t drink or smoke… they expected me to be the worst of us all in that regard. Finally, I’m cajoled into drinking a shot of some form of liquid fire, to great cheering. Further drinks are refused (well maybe there was one more.) , but I have to promise to drink with them again tomorrow night.

The bars never close, until everyone goes home. Drinking on the street is legal.

A lot of drinking goes on in Athens.

Still suffering from lack of sleep (10 hour time difference), we call it a fairly early night and try to get some sleep.

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