Chapter 1: Robin Hood & some merry men
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After packing the night before I set off from work in Lancaster
early. Nothing new there of course, but this time I actually had a
reason to finish early.
Following Ricardo’s directions to the letter I overshot the turn off
junction on the M6 and had to back track to Nottingham via the M42 at
Birmingham. So, the A50 is correctly known as the A500 I noted. This
was going well, I thought. The weather was very pleasant and I
cruised through Nottingham to the relaxed sounds of Son Boricua’s
Clasicos 60’s.
Reached Ricardo’s house without the need to phone on the way at 6pm,
Suzy, Ricardo’s lovely wife opened the door with child in arms. After
the meet ‘n greet Suzy told me “He’s in the bath”.
———-
Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
It can be a bit hit and miss, this meeting people you have met on the Internet thing.
I assumed, nay prayed, that in this case the phrase “He’s in the bath” was NOT an untoward suggestion.
———–
I looked at the photographs that lined the hallway, black and white
images of NYC and Cuban musicians. These were evidence of Ricardo’s
past life as a photographer when, among other places, he had spent
over 6 months based in NYC.
Now dear reader, you may be wondering why such detail is required.
Well, before this trip Ricardo and I had never met before. So, I had
to wait a little longer to meet the man I had met through the SalserosCollective
E-group and with whom I now speak on the phone about twice a week.
All this started when someone on one of the UK salsa chat boards had
posted about a DJRicardo gig, commenting that he “deliberately picks
the worst tracks on every album”. I dropped a collective calling card
into that or an ensuing conversation and within a few days Ricardo,
Norman, DaveF and DJCiclon had all joined the group.
A freshly dressed Ricardo appeared and within 2 minutes we were
listening to salsa. Pretty much what we do on the phone, yes, we
engage in regular ‘hot phone salsa’ sessions.
Suzy rolled her eyes and disappeared to make us coffee.
We were off out soon, meeting fellow collective member Norman, AKA
DJSizzla. He was waiting on a street corner, I assumed he was waiting
for us rather than this being a regular activity of his. By 8pm we
had made our way to Trip To Jerusalem, the worlds oldest pub that
claims to have been there since 1189. It is part built into the city
walls and despite the huge painted ‘worlds oldest pub’ message on the
outside walls, is pretty much a nice regular city centre pub.
We passed a huge statue of Robin Hood on the way, “he’s a big bloke”
remarked Norman. No wonder people ‘remember’ him.
Ricardo and Norman talked about their new salsa night in Nottingham,
sounds promising I thought.
Once in the pub we stood in a cave style booth, made of real genuine
cave, and Ricardo announced that this was where Maid Marion and Robin
Hood first did the dirty. A passing American tourist paused and made
what I thought was a note of this. Possibly.
The conversation was about, well, salsa.
We discussed DJs, venues, music, the great dancing public, tastes and the like.
We dissed the current descarga reviews and all pulled funny faces at the
mention of the infamous ‘Adriel Review’. Fellow members of the pub-lic
must have thought we were downing straight bitter lemon shots,
such was the ensuing grimacing.
Norman, whom I was also meeting for the first time, is a dedicated
cap wearer.
“You’re not as shiny as on your photograph” I told him.
He [briefly] removed his cap and we all agreed that in fact he WAS as
shiny in real life.
———–
Previously Deleted/Lost Scene
Restored Outtake:
Norman was wearing his Kangol style cap back to front, as is the fashion with the kids these days. A tuft of hair poked out at the front, which was the back of the cap remember. I was surprised and then ridiculed as this turned out to be a piece of the cap lining that had become loose and drifted down the forehead, creating a hint of fringe.
———–
After a couple of beers we made our way back towards Ricardo’s house,
ending up at an Indian restaurant along the way. Ricardo tried to
convince the manager that we were in fact representatives of the Good
Curry Guide and not the three random punters we actually were.
“Oh yes sir” was the managers full reply.
Norman had a chicken Dupiaza with a chapati [insert, or some reason
this words spell check offering is “teapot”!!!], Ricardo a king prawn
Balti with extra garlic and a garlic naan bread, with extra garlic.
Christ, I have to share a room with this guy this weekend. I opted
for the strong stuff, a chicken Madras with peshwari naan.
The conversation drifted to football and Big Ron Atkinson.
Ricardo paid in full [no discount, despite our self confessed
connoisseur status] and we went back to his house. Guess what, we
played some music. Among others were Wuelfo, Marco’s great mystery
track and three Carlos Santos numbers, the latter being Ricardo’s
current favourite plays. Norman left us around midnight.
“We need to book the Chinatown bus from Boston to NYC Ricardo” I urged.
Online, the FungWahBus Co website displayed “FULL” for the bus we had to be on.
“Shit” we both exclaimed.
No worries, I had other reserve bus companies on a list
and we were soon booked on the Lucky Star line instead. Same time,
same departure place, same price. What go possibly go wrong?
More of this later.
After more music we bedded down for the night around 1am. Well, a few
hours actually. We had nodded to each other earlier in the day, both
agreeing that it would be best to get a good nights sleep.
We got more sleep than we should have had as it turned out and if not
for Suzy’s insistent intervention and a patient taxi driver, the tale
might well have ended here????