Imperial Tokyo

Tonight, we came very close to suffering the loss of one of our dear band members: Mortimer the camera, thought to have been sitting safely on someone else's lap, got himself entangled in the coat of the one exiting the van and subsequently fell with a heartbreaking sound to the concrete ground of our parking lot.

Fortunately, due to either extreme luck or a Christmas Miracle, Mortimer escaped unharmed and we averted a major crisis. Praise be to Allah.

Now! on with the show.

The Imperial Hotel was everything its name suggests: owned by the Royal Family, a stone's throw from the Imperial Palace, very rich and velvety and posh and all good things associated with Royalty.




The Lion's Club Christmas enkai was held in a typical hotel banquet hall; the acoustics of the room were mediocre but not horrible or echo-y, the staff were accommodating, and we finished the equipment setup quickly enough that we were able to enjoy a nice lengthy sound check.

Our dressing room was a pleasant surprise: nicely lit, spacious, with a nice little Japanese garden outside similar to the banquet room's, which lent the room an almost quaint atmosphere.


The coffee, however, was unpleasant. My faith in the Royal Family has dimmed a little. Couldn't they afford to raise the coffee budget, even just a little?!

Father does not approve.
Our food took a long time to get to us (that started a bit of a riot in me and Keren's hungry corner) and this was what we were given:



BITE SIZE. LITERALLY. Some had canned artichoke hearts in them. Some even had smoked salmon. It was an intriguing... and slightly dissatisfying experience. Thankfully, after everything died down a bit we were given some buffet leftovers and those were yummy.

(On this note... one thing you should know about Phil? He never complains! Seriously, nevah. He tucked happily into his thumbnail-sized sandwiches whilst Keren and I bitched away.)


Bless.

Ahem, moving on: the show itself felt a little lacking but we managed to deliver anyhow, smiles firmly pasted to our faces. Our sagging moral state was mainly thanks to the frowning man at the table right in front of the stage - seriously, that man was the Grinch!! INCARNATE!! - but hey, everyone has their down days.



Finally, the highlight of the night:

As Keren and I were waiting in the lobby for the van -




- we were approached by a handsome dark skinned man in jeans and a suit jacket.

"Excuse me," said he, in charmingly accented English, "I would just like to say that never before have I seen such a show of imperial beauty as I see now in you."

Really. Those exact words.

I memorised them.

He then proceeded to give us flowers, shake our hands, casually inform us that he was the Libyan Ambassador, and disappear into the darkness. Keren did not stop smiling for the rest of the night.




God. Sometimes I love my life.

You just can't make this stuff up.