The 2001 US Pure Tour in 16 Riveting Chapters:
One man's mission to see every Pure Tour show on the North American continent
Chapter 4
BOSTON, MA
Mark and I slept like logs at his home in Scranton. By the time we got ready that morning, it was me in my Numanized look, and it was Mark in suit and tie ready to be a lawyer in court. He was despondent over seeing just three shows. I cheered him the best that I could saying it was a higher number of shows than most folks would attend. And there was always the next tour, which Gary said may be later in the year.
Before my long journey into Massachusetts, Mark sprang for a hearty breakfast at a local diner, took one last picture of me next to my car, and with a shake of the hand I was alone.
By the time I left Scranton, it was almost 2 pm. I had some serious jamming to do for the Numan show that night as the doors were supposed to open at 7 pm. It was an early show as the joint turned into a hip hop club by 10:00 pm. If I had any shot at making the pre-show party to meet Numanboy, Hopey and others, I would have to open it up and fly. The scenery was awe-inspiring and the traffic very light except for the sector around Hartford, CT which was often at a standstill as I was lucky enough to hit the city during rush hour. But the ride from there to Boston was quick.
I hadn't a second to spare if I was to make the events. I yanked my Mapquest maps from the back seat and found them useless compared to my AAA atlas blow-up of the city of Boston, which I also found useless. I had never been to inner Boston, and being such an old city is anything but a grid layout. Streets which continued on the maps didn't in real life. They were cut off in between by parks or buildings.
Numan's venue, The Paradise, was on Commonwealth Avenue, which I followed west from the city. As I strode along it, it sneakily veered left without much signage. Finally, a half hour after the doors were scheduled to open, I spotted The Paradise. To my astonishment and relief, the line of folks had not been let in. I found an agreeable parking spot (for being so late), assembled my look and was off running to join the line.
People were being let in just as I approached the line. Regardless, I secured a decent spot, but it was the only show besides Chicago that I wouldn't be front and center for.
Not long after, Bill Robert came over to say hello. Bill is a fun guy with a fun website and I was happy to see him again. Though we continually kept in touch since the 1998 Cambridge Exile show, I hadn't seen him since then. Soon, Numanboy, Hopey and her boyfriend showed. Hopey and I hugged like old friends which we are now. And holy smikies, I hadn't seen Numanboy since the Chicago Exile show. The quintessential Numanboy shared front and center with Kat Silures and me for many a show for the Exile Tour. He is always fun to see a Numan show with. His energy alone, succeeds in riling the enthusiasm of the crowd even more. Numanboy is the Cheerleader of Numanoids.
Gwenmars, then Gary came on stage to perform for only us. We were taken back by the high quality of the sound that evening. Especially the handful who attended the Philly show some hours ago and found it sub-par near the back. I was in the front for the Philly show and subsequently found the sound there perfect save for a rare bit of minor feedback. But tonight, Gemma walked over to clap along with the 5 of us. Gemma and I agreed the show was especially good that night, and she revealed to me Gary's favorite song to play (this month's trivia question!).
As with the Exile Tour, I kept meeting single women alone at each Numan show ecstatically singing along with all the songs. And once again, I never asked for anyone's phone number. Something is seriously wrong with me.
After the show, the crowd kept cheering for more. They did this much longer in Boston than at any other show. I thought that if there ever was to be a second encore, tonight would be it, with all the clapping. The lights stayed low so there was hope. Much to the audible chagrin of the club patrons, the lights came on. We were unceremoniously kicked out so that the hip hop crowd, which was already lining up outside, could get in and bask in the aura of the recent and excellent Numan show.
With all the racing to get to Boston and with all the detours I took in town, I was seriously hungry. Luckily, one of Gary's favorite restaurants, McDonald's, was down the block on the corner. I purchased some cattle and potatoes and walked back to the front of The Paradise by Numan's bus to wait with the rest.
I found a quiet corner behind a barricade against the building to have my late dinner and people-watch. Strangely, I would not see Hopey or Numanboy in line. After downing a couple bites, a couple of guys who recognized me came over to speak. Turns out they were both subscribers of the paper NAGNFC Fanzine. I'd already met one of them, Drew Tronerud back in 1990 at a Depeche Mode concert in Saratoga Springs, New York when I noticed him in a self-made Gary Numan shirt featuring several of the 7" single covers.
Again, the line wasn't too long. I invited Gary to visit the National Warplane Museum near my house and promised him I wouldn't tell anyone he'd be there if he decided to come. His eyes brightened as I gave him the brochure and he asked me where it was.
I left the scene and found a gas station at 12:00 am to fuel up to see two more states. I hit an empty I-495 north to New Hampshire. I'm sure the scenery of the Green and White Mountains would have been spectacular if it had only been daylight. New Hampshire was devoid of life and I could pick my own speed limit. Vermont was darker still. It was quite late, the last radio station had faded away, my headlights barely penetrating the concentrated night far from the light pollution of so much as a town, as my car climbed the twisty highway roads through the Green Mountains.
Sleep began asking for a visit. My eyes scanned for a motel which I found off an exit in the middle of absolute nowhere. I apologized to the proprietor of the establishment for arriving so late. The motel was tiny but the room was surprisingly good and spacious. My eyes drifted off the crackling vestiges of the television and into sleep. They dreamed of seeing Gary's first 21st century show in Canada the next day...