35 – The Plaza Suite
On July 6th, 2028, the Fellowe’s party checked into their suite at the Plaza Hotel, $15,000 a night for a three bedroom home away, Phillip had booked it for five nights, more than they needed but better safe than sorry. The suite had an Edwardian elegance, a sort of sumptuous money smell to it. Phillip was getting used to being around money and it was a strange feeling after decades of living from case to case, cheap bourbon and cheaper memories, he had forgotten how real money felt and the time with the Fellowes had reminded him how much and how little he enjoyed it.
But what Verlierer did like was Manhattan, taking a limo from Newark to Manhattan, he liked the feel of the city. It was not his first time in New York, he’d been there twice before in search of lost husbands who’d found themselves in the clutches of low scrupled twenty somethings. He’d liked it then as well but in gumshoe mode it was a different type of city entirely. It was around 9pm before they were settled in but Mike wanted to go to the Village and check out the birth of punk.
“There is nothing left, Mike, how can there be?” Michelle complained, feeling tired and wanting her sleep.
“Did you know that the particles of air we breath are the same particles that Jesus would have been breathing? They are certainly the same particles of air Joey Ramone was breathing and I want to go and breath them where he breathed them…” Mike replied.
“You are crazy?” She replied, flabbergasted. Then shrugged. “Alright, let’s go breathe Joey Ramones oxygen…”
Hannah looked at Phillip, he just nodded. “You sleep, I’ll take care of them”
After much discussion and on threat of a good kicking from Michelle, Mike changed from leather pants and leather vest to jeans and a Ramones tee shirt. Michelle wore the same thing. Phillip kept to his suit pants and a white tee shirt and they grabbed a cab to St, Mark’s Place and 3rd avenue in search of a place Billy would have recognized if it existed but had ceased to exist years ago. A warm, busy day in the village, filled with tourists and Thai restaurants with maybe three record stores in the entire area. Michelle looked around in disgust. “This fucking sucks” she growled.
“Breathe the air”, Mike said.
“I’ll give you the are to breathe.”
“Come on kid, it is fun. we’re in New York City
“Phillip, tell him…”
“Don’t get me involved…” Phillip replied, walking them down 3rd avenue till it changed Bowery and they walked right by CBGBs without noticing and had to double back. There was nothing to look at.
“Can we go home now…”
Mike looked crestfallen and Michelle felt bad for him. “Phillip… please” she said.
Phillip just nodded and pointed downtown, they walked in silence behind Phillip , holding hands under a starlit sky, they crossed Houston and went east to Ludlow Street and suddenly it was like an explosion of rock aesthetic, rock spirit, college kids filled the street smoking pot, eating pizza, being their age in great, numbers. It was like going from Muggle London to Diagon Alley, everything was suddenly the way it maybe woulda been though Billy could’ve proven them wrong. Music poured out of one club after another club after another club: Candy Store, followed by Troubleland by East Coast Sound.
Mike looked about him in awe and excitement. “This is what we don’t get in LA. It is midnight on a Thursday and the world is wide awake and partying. This is how it should be. Where do we go….?”
They looked about, spoiled for choice, from club entrance to club entrance till Mike screamed at the top of lungs “THE BEDWETTERS”. An old school Sub Pop band from the early 00s. “I can’t believe it, can we get in? Can we get in.” It was sold out but a bedwetter happened to having a smoke outside the club and after eyeballing Michelle, figured it was worth the risk and invited the three in. “Too loud for you Gramps?” The bassist asked Phillip.
“I used to roadie for the Stones, kid.” Phillip lied with his best snarl.
“Then you better get some earplugs,” he laughed.
simultaneously self-effacing and egomaniacs
essentially a disco remix of “Rocket Man” featuring one of the the UK’s biggest stars…
“I literally really need you to jump up and down”
Friday night might kill us but Thursday evening is a blast
it just isn’t the triumph she needed after six years
an impressive sonic ride.
a high-spirited Post Pandemic anthem
a memorable band who were never better than here
almost Pink Floyd-esque