Coachella - Gaz Whelan
Friday 27th

We leave Manchester at 3.30.am so as to arrive at Heathrow for an 11.30 flight to L.A. This is a ridiculously early start even for me with my anxious disposition and weakened bladder. I don't usually rise for my first night-time toilet visit till at least 4 am!

We arrive early and me and Shaun check in and pass through to 'the other side'. The first thing we are faced with is the departure lounge pub. What do we do? It's only 9.30 am! We surrender (far too easily) to boredom as we have 3 hours to kill. We enter with unnecessary haste, in fact if I'm completely honest we scurry into the darkness of the bar like two anxious voles trying to escape the approaching talons of a quickly descending bird of prey. We both order our usual Guinness, which considering the early hour tasted surprisingly good! In fact I came over all poetic and exclaimed to Shaun that I thought it tasted.... "As sweet as newly gathered honey, and had the scent of every single flower that had ever blossomed since the garden of Eden". His reply was simple and to the point, "fuck off, it's just because you're scared of flying"...and of coarse he was right!

We arrive in La Land (L.A.) some 13 hours later and check into our hotel. We are as polite as could be expected after such a journey but are greeted with what can only be described as 'disdain' from the assistant manager on duty. An odd looking man of European descent but of no fixed accent. As I left for my room I'm sure I heard him mutter to himself something about 'English musicians' and 'deserving Manchester's awful weather' or was I hearing things due to lack of sleep and a full Guinness breakfast.

I quickly shower and realise I have to use my mobile to arrange a drink with an old friend, Spot who is now a resident in L.A. Here lies my dilemma, my phone needs charging but I have forgotten my socket converter for the U.S. I know Kav has one I can use but his room is on the lower floor directly below my room and I can't find my key for the padlock on my luggage allowing me access to fresh clothes, and time is short. I notice the service elevator is across from my room so I throw a towel around my waist and grab my room key, I'm not stupid, I don't want to become locked out in such a state of undress! I rush and press the elevator door, it soon arrives and I jump in and press the down button. As the lift comes to a halt I quickly exit so as to be discreet and execute my sortie with swift accuracy and head for what I think is the safety of Kav's room. It is at this point that I notice a kitchen full of staff staring at the skinny Englishman wearing nothing but a bath towel. I panic, jump back inside the elevator and press several buttons. The elevator jolts a few times then stops....mid floor! I press the alarm and within 2 minutes the elevator comes to life again and ascends to the reception where I am greeted by a lobby full of people and a grinning assistant manager shaking his head from side to side. With head down I scurry off back to my room plotting my revenge.

We all eventually make it out and for our sins we end up going somewhere we would normally never frequent..... an English pub abroad. This goes against everything we believe in but we are tired and hungry. It wasn't the usual pub that everyone goes to in Hollywood; this was a small new establishment which had successfully recreated everything English. The only way I could describe it was that it was as English as 'fish and chips' and...er...er...Chlamydia! Which I think is what we ended up eating, nuff said!