Full disclosure: I am keenly aware of how ridiculous this is.

I’m flying almost 27 hours round-trip to arrive in a foreign country to see a concert, and will be in the destination city only a few hours. Literally fly in, see the concert, then leave. It’s nuts. But if you’ve read the primer, then you know what’s up.

And no, I can’t explain it, either. The old saying goes, “never meet your heroes” because they’ll never live up to the expectations you have for them. The only possible outcome is disappointment. I try to keep that in the back of my mind and prepare for it, but there’s a part of me that secretly hopes this will only go well. Regardless, I’m prepared to take that risk for the chance of meeting them in person, shaking their hands, and telling them “thank you for getting me through my depression” right to their faces. That’s the reason for this trip. The concert is just icing on the cake.

I already know that the concert is going to be everything I don’t like in a concert: it’s rap, first of all. There will be no seats. Everyone will be pushing and shoving for a better view and it’s going to be cramped.

Add to this, that I know that the boys rap over pre-recorded vocal tracks of their own voices. This isn’t as bad as out-and-out lip syncing, because you’ll still hear their own voices, but still.. I also know that the audience is going to yell along with every song, pretty much drowning out any chance of hearing Pete or Bas. But I also know that the energy in that room is going to be unmatched and it’s going to feel like a massive celebration of these two old geezers and the inspiration they provide to everyone who needs to hear, “you’re never too old.”

So here I am at Calgary International, get through security, checked the flight board and nearly had a heart attack when I saw “Halifax: Delayed”

Luckily, it was the earlier flight, mine was still on time.

Boarded without issue, but there’s a kid behind me who keeps kicking my seat and a lap baby across from me who is one of the cutest babies I’ve ever seen, until she started screaming and crying, which was almost immediately after takeoff. Le sigh.

Also: we sat at the gate for a long time before we pushed off, then we were in a long lineup for takeoff. I had only a 55 minute window to catch the next flight to Dublin and we took off 45 minutes late. I started to get seriously worried that all of this would be for naught.

So I did what I do when I’m feeling ill-at-ease: I pulled out the laptop, stuck in the headphones, and watched Pete and Bas videos. I have 41 of them saved on my hard drive for moments like this when there’s no internet connection, plus almost that many of my favourite reaction videos to their stuff.

I know I’ve said this before: I can’t understand why I even like their stuff, let alone why they bring me calming, happiness, and comfort. But they do. And they did.

I went from “I’m going to miss my connection and all of this time and money will be wasted” to “if it’s meant to be, it will happen. If it’s not meant to be, you’ve still got tickets to see them in Portland and Seattle in October.” And even though I was still concerned that this trip would end in a missed flight, I was no longer wringing my hands and getting worked up over it.

Magic. It has to be.

Besides, there is an extra reason for me to be excited: I got this email from Bas the day before I left:

After we’d be in the air a bit and I had calmed down, I stopped the flight attendant and asked what the procedure was if the lateness of one flight caused a missed connection. She said, “there are several of you on board with connections, let me check with the captain and find out what time we expect to land.”

A few minutes later, she comes back and says, “captain says we’re catching a good tailwind and we’re making up time. We should land about 15 minutes after our originally scheduled time. Halifax is a small airport and you won’t go through customs until you get to Dublin, so it’s just a gate change. You should be ok.”

Of course, I’m not crediting Pete and Bas with shoving the jet stream up our tail section, but if that was what happened, it wouldn’t be any more oddball than the legitimate way their music changes my mood almost instantly, so why not?

Landed in Halifax, speed-walked to the next gate, and walked right onto the plane. Just in time.

That flight had meal service. Now, you all know that when Rob and I travel together, we go business class and the food is usually very good. This was the meal back in the cheap seats:

The differences are obvious. In business, you get a plate, actual cutlery, and nicer presentation. In economy, you get a box, wooden utensils, and pre-packaged appearance. But you know what? The food is very similar. The meal was actually really good, the manicotti wasn’t overcooked, and it was just fine. The main difference between business and economy meals isn’t the food, it’s the amount of room you have to eat it. In business, you can eat like a civilized person. In economy, if you’re a tall person, you have to experiment with yoga positions until you find one that allows you to get the little wooden fork full of pasta to your waiting pie hole. It’s awkward AF, but I don’t mind a challenge. And the coffee was good.

Landed in Dublin, which has now entered into my list of Airports I Never Want To See Again. I think the walk from the plane to passport control was about six miles, then an hour to get through that. Then from there, another five miles or so to Connecting Flights, where you wait almost an hour to get through the scanner system. Once you find your gate, there’s no plane. You wait in a hallway with chairs until they bring a bus to take you to your plane.

I took that photo for Glenn. Hi, Glenn!

Anyway, I’ve been told by people… people with British accents, no less… that people in Newcastle speak with a Geordie accent and I won’t be able to understand them.

Well, I’m sitting here next to four blokes waiting for this flight who obviously are on their way back home to Newcastle. I’ve been listening to them in the background for almost half an hour now and I think I might’ve understood three or four words in total. I haven’t put together a complete sentence yet.

The plane was half an hour late. Then we sat on the tarmac for another 90 minutes because some idiotic couple brought oxygen on board the cabin. Not one of those pressurized silver tanks, but a wheelie unit with a handle that looked like carry-on luggage. There was a whole discussion between the crew and the airline, then the crew and the couple, and then the couple had to be escorted off the plane and someone had to dig through the cargo hold to find their checked bags. Le sigh. Meanwhile, right across from me is a 2.5-yr-old who hasn’t been taught that screaming for attention isn’t OK on a plane. Nor in security, either, where we all listed to it throwing a tantrum because Baby Shark had to go through the scanner.

It didn’t really matter that the plane was late, because I didn’t have any more connections. I was really happy to find that the hotel was just a few steps from the airport.

No pics of the carbonara I’m having for lunch at the hotel. I’m too tired. Here’s a pic of the room, though.

I got almost an hour’s sleep, then hopped in the shower, called an Uber, and was off to the Anarchy Brew Company for the show.

On to the show!
Back to the Pete and Bas main page
Back to the travelogue page