Jake Starr's Monthly Harangue

December 2002:
Be careful, Jake, you're in Finland now!

Hi, my name is Jake Starr and I'm the singer in the rock-n-roll band Adam West. I am a demon and I love rock-n-roll! I just returned from my first trip to Finland and I think I fell in love. . .

It all started when my life partner, Dave Champion, and I decided to join the Hellacopters on their November Finnish tour. Dave and I have known the Hellacopters for about five years and we all are lifelong friends. Over the years, we have toured with the Hellacopters several times in the USA and Sweden. Now, Suomi beckoned and we heeded the call to the dark land of the East. Eastern Scandinavia, that is.

If I were to write the entire story out, it would take 10 volumes and the details would incriminate not only me but some of your rock-n-roll idols. If you want the total, complete story, you're gonna have to meet me at Bar Loose in Helsinki and get me very drunk while Milla spins the tunes, naturally!

So, Dave and I drive to Philadelphia on Friday, 25 October, to catch our Finnish brothers, the Flaming Sideburns. As usual, they were magical. Upon leaving the bar, I warn Jarkko that I would see him in Helsinki in two weeks and to get ready. Little did I know that it was *I* who would need preparation! Then, on Tuesday, 5 November, Dave and I return to Philadelphia to catch Soundtrack of Our Lives and Cato Salsa Experience. Another magical show and we were off in the middle of the rainy night to catch our flight to Stockholm the next day.

Miraculously, Dave and I make the flight to Stockholm, call Kenny Hellacopter, and proceed to his pad as we always have done every time we arrive in Stockholm. As soon as we arrive at Kenny's, he pulls out a pitcher of orange juice and some vodka and I start making myself very hefty screwdrivers. Dave eventually succumbs to sleep on Kenny's couch just in time for our buddy Bengtsson to come over and try to teabag the sleeping Mr Champion! I abort the mission in the nick of time and we're off to the venue.

Now it's Thursday, 7 November, and the Hellacopters are playing in Stockholm with Gluecifer as opener. This has got to be my dream show! Gluecifer are also good friends of ours and one of the best rock bands on the planet. So we all taxi over to the venue and meet up with all the bands. The Wrecks are also on the bill and include Måns from the Maggots on guitar. What a delight!

Needless to say, all three bands rocked and I can safely say it was one of the top rock concerts I've ever witnessed. Mind you, my first rock concert was Kiss and AC/DC (w/Bon Scott) in 1978, so I'm not fucking around here. Tha party afterward ensued and all got quite toasted. I ran into some people I hadn't seen in over a year or more.

The traveling party end up at a new rock club in Stockholm called Debaser. Howlin' Pelle was spinning the tunes and Jocke from the Nomads was right in front of the booth. I saunter up to him and surprise the hell outta him. . . he had no idea I was in town. Also in attendance were Odd de Cologne, Mathias, Micke, and Stefan from the "Demons", and of course, some Gluecifer guys. Shit, my memory starts to fade now when I think about what went on there and back in Biff and Raldo's hotel room, so I better just stop right here and move on to the next day.

So after "sleeping" two hours max on the freezing floor, Dave and I go out to lunch with the Glue boys and eventually bid farewell to Gluecifer until the next day in Göteborg. We make it with all luggage in tow to a great bar/restaurant in Stockholm called "Garlic and Shots" and meet up with Jocke again. We eat, proceed to get extremely intoxicated on Blood Shots and Vodka Lemon Drops, and crash at Jocke's pad. What unmitigated hospitality we've been shown in Sweden so far! Seriously, I'm lucky to know some of the best people in the world.

The next morning, Dave lifts his head and mutters something like "We're not gonna make it to Göteborg. . ." I ignore him and start getting ready. He eventually joins me and we're off to Central Station to catch our train to Göteborg. It's expensive, but it's worth it! To see Gluecifer again and at the new Sticky Fingers club is well worth the price. As soon as we arrive at the club, Biff escorts us to the kitchen so we can get a hot meal. Excellent. Then the drinking and insanity begins all over again. Right before the band goes on, I make my way to the very front where I am suddenly accosted by the two denizens of Sweden: Sandy and Sara. If you've been to any rock shows in Sweden, you know these two girls for sure. 'Nuff said. Anyway, Sara takes one of my hands and puts it right on her tit. With her other hand, she puts something down my pants and starts massaging my cock-n-balls. I move away to check what she's put in my pants and it's a pair of her thong underwear. Do ya think she's trying to tell me something, folks? Well, suffice to say, I'm not into it so I try to enjoy the show while she and Sandy continually grab my nipples, squeeze my ass and cock-n-balls, and whisper stuff in my ear like "I'm gonna suck your cock until you're blue!" This was the best Gluecifer show I've ever seen for obvious reasons!

I also run into Danny and Robert of the Space Cowboys who rock rock rock! After the show, it gets a bit dicey, so let's just say that we all went calmly to bed. There, is that a nice ending to this night?

Next morning we say goodbye again to Gluecifer, only this time we're all very hungover and looking rather tired. Gluecifer has a nice 8-hour drive to Hamburg in a cramped van; we have a 3.5-hour train ride back to Stockholm so we can meet the Hellacopters for the ferry to Finland, so it's time to motor!

Back in Stockholm, Odd comes to the rescue and we crash at his place. Next afternoon, we meet up with him, Michael "Degen", and Alvaro for a nice Punjab buffet. It's great to hang out with friends we haven't seen in awhile. Now it's evening and we get over to Kenny's house so we can share a taxi to the ferry harbor. At the harbor the bus is waiting, Dave and I get our tickets, and off we go onto the ferry. It's gonna be a 10-hour ride, so we better eat something and start drinking. It's here that I meet Christine and Krille from Mensen for the first time. I released a split 7" for Mensen a couple years ago and my band covered a Mensen song "Cruiser," so they're one of my favorite bands. Christine almost immediately starts fucking with me in German: "Du bist schlecht im Bett" and "Deine Schlange ist ja klein." I, of course, start giving her shit right back in German (I lived in Austria and I speak fairly fluent German.)

The ferry ride is another blur of drunken insanity but I do remember dancing with Marianne Mensen to "Play that Funky Music, White Boy" and discussing lyrics with Nicke. Also, Nicke and I agree to do another Hellacopters/Adam West split 7" but this time we'll cover each other's songs. So look forward to that 7" sometime in 2003 on People Like You Records, people!

When we arrive in Turku (Åbo), it's morning so we go right to the hotel room and crash. A bit of rest and Dave and I decide to venture out into the snowy night to find the club. We hang out for dinner and soundcheck when Marianne asks me to sing "Cruiser" as their last song. Of course, I agree even though I haven't sung that song in two years and I don't remember the lyrics at all. We go over it in soundcheck and I end up doing it with them all five nights in Finland.

The club fills to capacity, Mensen play a rocking set, then call me up to sing. The stage is cramped and during my performance, my big elephant feet stomp on Marianne's pedal which fucks up her guitar. Plus, I unplug one mic and almost destroy another. It's total chaos and I feel kinda bad, but all assure me it was spectacular. Nicke even says, "You were born to be on stage," which is about the highest compliment I can ever hear. Thanks, Nicke.

The 'Copters come on and tear the roof off the club. Their new songs are so amazing live and the old favorites like "Hey!" and "Soulseller" sound just as vital now. Truly they are one of the most important rock bands on the Earth. And I'm not kissing their asses cuz I'm friends with them! I've told them when I thought a song or performance wasn't good. But that's happened so rarely cuz they are a great band. Alright already now. . .

Back to the hotel for serious drinking and screaming in our room, naturally. Apparently, everybody heard us making noise that night although I can't remember what we did really.

Now, it's off to Jyväskylä. To an American, that is one of the strangest looking names ever. And I'm sure I still cannot pronounce it correctly. Who cares? It takes a few hours and we're at the hotel checking in. The band is going to some record signing session so Dave and I need to go with the crew to the club. And I need to mention this right now, this crew is the best crew I have ever known. Everybody was the coolest and top-notch at what they do, so here's kudos to Erik, Chippen, Uffe, Tobbe, Melinda, and of course, Mimi, their tour manager. Thanks to you all!

This club is bigger than the one in Turku and they have half of it blocked off for 18 and younger crowd. A very good idea that U.S. clubs should consider! The club fills again to capacity and Mensen hit the stage. At the end of their set, I come out and sing "Cruiser". . . only this time, I'm a bit more careful and prepared. The song turns out great and no equipment is destroyed by my clumsy boots! The Hellacopters again hit the stage blazing with "U.Y.F.S." from their new album and tear it up. Boba wrote that song and he has a contest going for what "U.Y.F.S." stands for. My entry to him was Under My Fucking Scrotum. I think I won!

After the show, it's back in the snow to the hotel where Dave, Krille, Christine, and I get into all kinds of laughing drunken trouble in our room. Christine decides to check under my balls to see if it smells, so she reaches down into my pants and massages my cock-n-balls for a few seconds. This seems to be a theme for my journey, eh readers? She brings her hand to her nose, sniffs, and says, "Not bad. . . you showered." She then proceeds to pass out on top of me in my bed. Ahhh, but I'm a good boy and she eventually stumbles back to her own room.

Next morning, Dave wakes up and weighs the issue of brushing his teeth or having a beer first thing in the morning. The beer wins and he guzzles one down and says that he immediately feels better. We both then realize that we are in alcohol withdrawal and if we do not keep drinking all the time, we're fucked. Oh well, gotta keep drinking! It's at this town that we hook up with Rocco Royale, guitar tech for the Flaming Sideburns and all around cool-as-fuck La Bruta guy. He gets on the bus with us to Helsinki and the remainder of the tour. Unfortunately, we all don't talk much cuz as soon as the bus hits second gear, we are all a bunch of snoring idiots all the way to Helsinki.

Hours later (or is it days?) we pull up in front of Tavastia, namely the best club in the world. Our hotel is right across from what used to be a parking lot which is now a crater of epic proportions, so we have to walk around a long way with our luggage. And it's fucking freezing and windy. Oh boy. In the lobby of the hotel we find none other than Chuck Pounder! Chuck is the ex-singer in the A*Bombs and one of our dearest friends from Stockholm. He's tour manager for some Swedish band who's opening up for Kent every night in Finland, so here he is. It's so good to see him after two years!

Soon Dave and I get a room and decide to take a walk to Stupido Twins record store. After a bit of disorientation, we find the store and there I see for the first time the Hellacopters "By the Grace of God" vinyl LP. Nicke asked me previously if I had gotten the vinyl yet cuz he said the etching would interest me. So I grab the LP off the shelf, open it up, and look at the run-off groove etching: Jake Is Looking Out For Number One. I giggle like a little school girl when I read it cuz it goes back to a story from the "High Visibility" album. On the song "Sometimes I Don't Know," Nicke says a line after the solo that sounds exactly like "Jake Is Looking Out For Number One" even though he denies it! Whatever, Nicke, the proof is in print now, brother! I also get the new Sweatmaster CD which I have been looking forward to for months after getting their previous three 7" singles. More on Sweatmaster later. . .

After Stupido, we end up at Bar Loose. Now kids, this is the best bar in the world. The décor is all rock-n-roll photos and the bar's logo is done in the Stooges font. I mean, how much better can it get? The jukebox is the best I've ever seen. So after a few beers, we make it back to Tavastia in time to meet up with Jarkko and soundcheck. The Hellacopters want to do Alice Cooper's "I'm Eighteen" with me singing as an encore tonight, so we have to rehearse the song in soundcheck. I've never sung the song before but of course I know it perfectly. We run through it and it's flawless. Now that that's over, I head back to Bar Loose to hook up with Dave and the Sideburns. Milla from Thee Ultra Bimboos is throwing a warm-up party there and she's spinning the best rock-n-roll in the world. I have been corresponding with Milla for about a year now, but I've never met her. I enter the bar to see this gorgeous brunette leaning over the turntable. Dave introduces me to her and it's like we've been friends for years. In fact, the next song she has cued up is the Adam West version of "We're Inside," a Thee Ultra Bimboos cover my band recorded for an upcoming 7" called "Adam West Digs Scandinavian Chicks!" I have entered paradise.

Soon, Rocco and Jossi (Flaming Sideburns techs) show up and we keep drinking. Then Jarkko, Marco, and Jukka (all Sideburns) show up and we keep drinking. Then, my favorite Finnish singer walks in and I get to meet her at last: Suffeli (from Thee Ultra Bimboos). We greet and start talking about music immediately. She compliments me on my voice and my version of "We're Inside" and I just compliment her on everything. If the night had ended right now, I would've been content.

But no, young Jedi Knights, the night is still very young indeed! Back to the club, which is now packed to 1,000 people, to catch Mensen play. As usual, I jump onstage to sing "Cruiser" and the place goes mad. This is the biggest and most energetic crowd yet. I'm actually getting a bit nervous going out there again with the Hellacopters and singing a song I've never sung before in front of 1,000+ people! Shit! But wait a second, I'm Jake Starr! I'm a professional rock star and nothing scares me, right? Damn right!

After the Hellacopters play their most inspired set so far, Nicke calls me to the stage and off I go. I introduce myself and mutter something about how I wrote this next song 30 years ago about four beautiful girls from Helsinki called Thee Ultra Bimboos. Man, I'm a slick motherfucker, eh? The band kicks in and I have to say, I delivered a mighty fine performance of "I'm Eighteen." Ironically, Alice Cooper had played Helsinki the week before and people told me that I blew Alice's version away! Now THAT'S a compliment! After my song, I return the mic to it's rightful place and the 'Copters continue their encore to fruition. Wow, I'm backstage and my heart is on fire. What a rush! I wanna do this every night, y'know? I wanna do it again RIGHT NOW!

The band comes backstage and all hug me and tell me how great I was and my ego soars to new levels. This is a serious highlight of my life.

We then follow the Sideburns AKA Finnish Royalty and their merry bunch of cavaliers to a bar where the vodka starts flowing. Jukka decides that I am to be his drinking partner and off I go. This leads Jarkko to tell me the quote that named this entire story: "Be careful, Jake, you're in Finland now!" Truer words have never been spoken! I mean, I can drink some alcohol, y'know? But not against these Finnish juggernauts! After another vodka and a Jaloviina shot, I stick with beer. This was also the first real chance I had to talk with some of the Finnish Royalty and it has got to be one of the funnest nights of my life. Besides being great musicians, all the Sideburns and Bimboos are the nicest, coolest people! After about two hours, the bar throws us out. The Royalty go their own way while Christine is begging me to flag down a taxi. I explain to her that the hotel is only two blocks away, but noooooooooooooooooooo, she's gotta go in a taxi. So we get a taxi to drive us two fucking blocks and there's Dave waiting for us in the lobby. He had had some nasty encounter with some looney woman at a Grilli kiosk and received some Scheiße sandwich that ended up as a wall mural near the hotel!

Now the party goes back to our hotel room and again utter insanity prevails! We have a nonsmoking room but that doesn't bother Uffe who grabs some duct tape and seals up the smoke detector. Uffe also has to tape a beer to Christine's hand and tape her mouth shut since she's going totally wild with her playmate Marianne. These Norwegians are fucking bonkers, man. . . no joke. But we love 'em all!

So now we have about 25 people in the room all smoking and drinking and screaming and suddenly there's a knock at the door at 5 a.m.! Christine makes a beeline for the door and frankly, she's the LAST person who should be answering the door! It's the hotel manager and he's not a happy camper. I shove Christine aside and attempt to soberly convince the manager that we'll keep it down and go to sleep soon. He's appeased but barely. At least he skulks down the hall so the party can resume. The Norwegians are going nuts again teasing Boba about his piano part in "By the Grace of God" by screaming and flicking the lights on and off over and over again. Dave decides enough's enough and grabs the light bulbs outta the fixtures. He hands one to Nicke to hide and tosses the other outta the way. Well, unfortunately, the bulb hits the wall and shatters so now we have broken glass everywhere! Dave then gets on top of the bed and announces, "If you're not Swedish, Canadian, or American, get the fuck outta this room!"

Finally, we corral the drunken fools out into hall and leave them there to rot. I open the door 10 minutes later to find five Swedes all passed out on top of each other in the hallway right in front of our door! I ignore them and try to go to sleep even though my head is already spinning with a hangover. Dave and I promise each other that the next night the party is absolutely NOT gonna be our room again! Oh, what naïve fools we are!

The next morning was bad. My head was splitting, the room was a fucking disaster area, and it was snowing outside. Dave and I needed food so we ventured out into the mess only to end up at a shitty Hesburger for quite frankly the worst meal I've had in years. Yuck. Back to the room to crash and recharge our batteries. At 4 p.m. our buddy Janne calls to meet us for dinner. Janne is a big Adam West fan and I was certainly excited to meet someone else cool in Helsinki, so we all hook up and walk down to the harbor to eat at Salve restaurant. Dave had been there over the summer and had the fried herring with garlic mashed potatoes. Ahhh, what a meal! We then walk to Bar Loose again for some more drinking. Now by this time, ol' Jake is pretty under the weather and that heavy meal didn't help. I'm supposed to sing "Search & Destroy" with the 'Copters along with my usual stint with Mensen. . . but right now I feel like burying myself in the snow and dying. After Janne's girlfriend meets us at Bar Loose, I bid them farewell and go back to the hotel to try to recuperate.

An hour later, I'm back at Tavastia and it's packed again with 1,000+ people. This is insane that the 'Copters have sold out two nights at this club! Anyway, I keep drinking and try to muster some energy as Mensen plow away through their set. It's time for me and whaddya know? The adrenaline kicks in and Jake Starr is back at 100%! I'm really enjoying this now. The 'Copters come out and play through their set with both guns a-blazing. I watch from the backstage and see the ocean of people singing every word and cheering to every new song. Now it's encore time and they play through the three songs as usual. After "By the Grace of God," Nicke invites me to the mic and I start my ubiquitous mumbo-jumbo: "My name is Jake Starr and I'm in room 886 at the Ramada Presidentti across the street, so come on by later and visit me! This song is called 'Search & Destroy!!!!!!!!!!!'"

The band tears into the song and I'm off like a rocket. I'm dancing and jumping and posing like the rock star I am. I point at pretty girls and give the middle finger to pretty boys. I spot Milla and blow her a kiss. . . I spot Jarkko and blow him a kiss! I'm in my element again. The 'Copters bring the song down before the final verse and I take to the audience with a call-and-response thing that gets all 1,000+ people singing along. I go back into the verse and the band follows me to a crescendo. Now, I've totally lost my mind. I drop the mic by Robert's drums and shoot him a crazed look. I turn immediately and run to the front of the stage and off I go into the air. I clear the six feet of space between the stage and the barricade and drop into the unsuspecting audience. They let me drop at first, then raise me up like the phoenix that I am and carry me to the back of the club on their hands. The whole time I'm in perfect Jesus Christ pose with arms outstretched. The crowd delivers me back to the stage and I grab the mic and finish the song. Everybody later says it's a piece of rock-n-roll history that was witnessed. . . others say I'm fucking insane. I believe both are true.

Afterwards while carousing through the crowd, fans are coming up to me to shake my hand and ask me who the fuck I am. "Why, I'm Jake Starr, of course!' I reply every time. We all pack the backstage and drink as much beer as possible. The club is throwing us out now so Dave and I decide to follow Robert, Jukka, Maria, and Christine to some bar called Mocambo. We get there and the fucker won't let us in cuz it's too late. So we walk to Lost & Found and it's the same story. On the way there, a big guy with a bandana on hears us speaking English, so he inquires. It turns out he's from Philadelphia (my hometown) and he's on tour with Ryan Adams. Personally, I think Ryan Adams sucks shit, but this guy was super cool!

The six of us start to disperse and it looks like we're all going separate ways. Dave and I stop at a Grilli and get some horrendous burger-like meal that should have remained in the toilet it came from. We stumble into the lobby of the hotel to find Jukka rolling a joint and Christine bouncing off the walls, as usual. Hmmm, Dave and I look at each other and think that there are only a few people here so we can go back to our room. There's no way it can turn into a tornado like it did last night. Uh, yeah.

Within minutes of getting to our room and settling down, there's a knock at the door. I open it and there's Boba Fett with a shit-eating grin on his face and all the Sideburns and Bimboos in tow! Once again, 25-30 people are in our room and the insanity starts! Dave pulls out his camcorder and starts recording this incriminating soiree. Maria Bimboo and Christine end up under the bed for some time. And then Christine pulls Part Two of "I Need to Grab Jake's Cock-n-Balls." This time, she isn't pleased with the aroma! Let's just say that there was some majorly drunk and silly behavior going on. Another highlight was Christine grabbing Boba by the hand and leading him out of the room saying, "I'm going to have a sexual sauna with Boba Fett!" Well, that's one less crazy Norwegian in our room, eh?!?!?!?

So after the mini-bar is raided and everybody's cigarettes are smoked, it appears that the party is over. We say our goodbyes to the lovely Finnish Royalty and kick the other Scandinavians out of the room. Dave and I look at each other in total disbelief. Maybe some sleep now perhaps? For me, this is true since I put in my earplugs and go off to snore-ville. Dave hears a knock at the door. It's Maria. She lost her bag in the lobby and is wondering around trying to find our room. First she's under Dave's bed, then platonically in it until morning. I wake up to take a piss and when I return to my bed, I see a girl in Dave's bed and apparently make the most astonished face (according to Dave!) Needless to say, there is a new Adam West song being written right now called "There's a Bimboo Under My Bed."

We get our shit together and walk down to the lobby to wait for the bus and the others. We bid farewell to Maria and others and off we go to Tampere for the last show of the tour. Since Dave didn't sleep at all that night, he climbs into the empty bunk on the bus and crashes the whole way. Meanwhile, Nicke, Strings, Rocco, and I talk to whole way to Tampere. The 'Copters are supposed to do a signing session at a record fair at the venue, but we are a little late and most of the cool records are long gone. At the club, Dave and I meet up with some Finnish friends that we have only known through e-mail like Sami from Bad Attitude Records who released an Adam West 7" this summer, Janne from the Mean Idols, and the guys from the Trassels. Instead of just lying around the club for a couple hours, we take a taxi back to Sami's new house for some pre-show drinking and partying. Sami's hospitality has no bounds since he gave us beer and free records. Awesome guy!

Back to the club in time to meet Maddie and friends from La Bruta Rockzine (maybe you've heard of it, readers?). Mensen soundchecks and Marianne pulls her usual craziness on the mic with "There are the two old homosexuals with the dirty underwear" to Dave and me. Ha ha, I just love that girl! What's really cool is that both stages at the club are having bands so Mensen and Hellacopters are on the big stage and Sunride and Sweatmaster are on the small stage. Dude, I get to see Sweatmaster after this incredible trip? Fuck yeah! Plus Sunride are labelmates with my band so I end up talking to their two guitarists about People Like You Records. Very cool band indeed.

Mensen takes the stage and a lot of people are not coming close enough for my taste, so by the time I come on to sing "Cruiser," I dedicate the song to "all the cool people in the back. . . fuck off!" This gets some cheers and off I go for the final version of "Cruiser" with my singing. It's an incredible stage and the sound is clear. I do my ass-shakin' dance on Krille during the guitar solo and as we all leave the stage, Marianne hugs me and thanks me. Hey Marianne, I'm Jake Starr and I love Rock-n-Roll!

Then I get to check out Sunride in the other room. It's packed but I get to see about half their set. Awesome rock band. Now it's Hellacopters time again and the place is absolutely fucking packed full. There must be 1,400+ people in here. . . the biggest show yet. Once again, the 'Copters play an inspired set and call me out for "Search & Destroy." Jarkko and Milla came up from Helsinki so I dedicate the song to them and off we go. Again, it's total insanity as I dance, skulk, and twist my body around the stage. The crowd responds in kind and I feel the urge again to do the impossible. The barricades are even farther from the stage at this club, so I'd really be an idiot to attempt to jump into the audience here. Well, I'm the first to admit that I'm a 100%, full-fledged, card-carrying idiot so off I go. This time the crowd anticipates my arrival so I don't sink into the masses. They carry me around and tear open my shirt. They carry me back to the barricade and a bouncer helps me down. I run around backstage, retrieve the mic, and finish the song. "KIITOS!" I keep saying over and over again and the 'Copters pound out the outro and I bow and wave and blow kisses and slap my ass, etc.

It's over. I'm backstage and I suddenly realize that this is the last 'Copters show I will see for some time. I'm sad but I'm so energized at the same time. But wait, Sweatmaster are about to go on! There's no time to jack off now. . . get to the other room, baby! I get there just as Sasu and the boys start their first song. Within a minute, a beautiful blonde girl comes up to me, hugs and kisses me, and asks her friend to take a picture of the two of us. She then whispers in my ear that I'm "perfect." Well, honey-bunny, I wish I were perfect! That would mean a lot more hair and about 5 kilos less on my body, but I guess for a moment on stage, I was perfect! Ha ha!

Sweatmaster are kicking out the jams with every song while Milla, Jarkko, and I are singing along. This night is the best. For their encore, they do the Misfits "Where Eagles Dare" and get the words wrong! Ugh, I'm a major Misfits fan and I just wanted to jump up there and sing the song for Sasu. Maybe next time?

Show's over and people start to leave. There's no real after-party but the bar remains open for a couple hours to let everybody get exceptionally intoxicated. As usual, if there's a fucking crazy chick in the bar, she will inevitably find me and start fucking with me. I am a freak magnet and it never fails. This night it is a very attractive petite brunette named Minna who starts her conversation with me as so: "I don't like the Hellacopters. . . I don't like the Flaming Sideburns. . . I don't like Sweatmaster. . . I don't like rock-n-roll." My response is, "So what the fuck are you doing here?" I mean, she was at the wrong show entirely, right readers? Our conversation begins to degenerate into an antagonistic brawl that culminates in Minna trying to kick me in the balls and my grabbing her leg and sending her tumbling to the floor. The bouncer runs up to me and I'm expecting him to beat the shit outta me and kick me out since there's this girl on the floor beneath me. Oh no, the bouncer asks ME if I want her thrown out cuz she's bothering me! Classic! Ha ha! I allow Minna to stay then I find out she's on mushrooms, so she is now dubbed forever more "Minna the Mushroom."

Meanwhile, Dave finds the girl of his dreams. Good onya, mate! I end up talking to Milla and some others before it's time to get on the bus and head to Turku to catch the 8:45 a.m. ferry back to Stockholm. Tampere, I will return and Minna better watch out this time!

I crash on the busride to Turku and basically wake up on the ferry. Upstairs to the breakfast buffet where Dave, Nicke, and I are separately accosted by the bitchiest old ladies on the boat. "Hey bitches, we're tired and hungover and we're not gonna fight over scrambled eggs, okay? Now fuck off!" I get a bowl of what I think is müesli which in actuality is bark, twigs, and dirt. And those aren't raisins either! Those are pigeon turds! Dave is feeling mighty low and says, "Nothing's going right for me today." At that exact moment, he tries to peel the shell off a 6-minute hard-boiled egg and his finger goes right through the shell and a geyser of yellow yoke splatters everywhere. I seriously think I am gonna pass out I'm laughing so hard! This prompts all of us to just go to our cabins and try to rejuvenate into human beings again. Of course the boat is rocking heavily so my hangover is just getting exponentially worse. But after a few hours of sleep and a nice, long shower, I feel like a person again.

The ferry docks in Stockholm and Dave and I say our goodbyes to our new family members. Kenny apparently hurt his ankle somewhere on the bus so he's in major pain. Dave and I decide to share a taxi with him to his pad, then head to Central Station to dump our bags before we have to take the train to the airport the next morning.

We then try to decipher the bullshit public phone system in Stockholm to no avail. Since it's Sunday night, none of the phones are accepting our credit cards so we can't call any of our friends to meet us at Garlic & Shots for our final night in town. We decide to hoof it over to the restaurant anyway and eat some dinner. The cool waiter recognizes us and let's us use the bar phone to call some people. Eventually, Matthias, Odd, Micke, Jocke, and Jessica arrive and share the moment. Odd again saves our collective asses by offering his pad to crash, so he slides us the keys and off he goes to Jessica's house. Jocke also goes home early, so that leaves Mathias, Micke, Dave, and I to get into trouble on this cold, Sunday night in Stockholm. Well, not much trouble per se, but we end up at a bar and have a few beers. An old punk rock guy from San Francisco hears us speaking American English and comes over to investigate. It turns out he knows many old punk rockers from the States and we exchange stories for about an hour. Then it's off to Odd's and a few hours sleep before we fly.

Arriving at Stockholm airport was no problem but we did hear that there was a workers' strike at the Copenhagen airport, which is where we're transfering, of course. We check our bags and get on the plane just in time for some asshole to determine there is one too many persons aboard and he won't let the plane leave until this is rectified. After an hour it's apparently fine and we take off. I get stuck with a middle seat but there is a beautiful Polish girl sitting next to me, so I'm not too stressed! The flight sucks in every way and when we finally get over America, the captain tells us that we're not allowed in Washington air space and we have to circle over Allentown, Pennsylvania, for two more hours. Fuck, we've been on the plane for 11.5 hours by now.

Finally landing and attempting to retrieve our luggage, we find that our luggage never made it past Copenhagen! I throw a mini temper tantrum but the SAS people are nice and let us fill out baggage claims. Next, I must call my lady from a pay phone since I'm hours late already. No, of course I cannot. The entire phone system at Dulles airport is down. This day fucking sucks, readers. We pick up Dave's car and drive the 30 minutes to my house. Ugh, I'm home. PERKELE!!!!

But I'll tell ya right now, I'm coming back to Finland soon and this time I'm kicking Finland's ass. That's a promise. . .