The
      72
      Hour
      Jam
      was
      a
      dis-
     
     
      gusting
      mess.
      Any
      venue
      that
      has
      port-
     
     
      a-potties
      outside
      of
      it
      can
      not
      be
     
     
      healthy.
      The
      line-up
      to
      get
      in
      (the
     
     
      venue,
      not
      the
      port-a-potties)
      was
     
     
      enormous.
      Hundreds
      of
      drunk
      people
     
     
      hoping
      to
      get
      in
      so
      they
      could
      drink
      in
     
     
      a
      bar
      that
      stayed
      open
      past
      two
      in
      the
     
     
      morning.
      There
      was
      no
      way
      we
      were
     
     
      going
      to
      be
      able
      to
      get
      into
      the
      show
      in
     
     
      time
      for
      Port
      Citizen.
      And
      even
      if
      we
     
     
      did,
      we
      probably
      wouldn’t
      have
      been
     
     
      able
      to
      get
      close
      enough
      to
      the
      band
      to
     
     
      be
      able
      to
      do
      some
      successful
      celebri-
     
     
      ty-stalking.
      So
      we
      left
      and
      got
      lost
      in
     
     
      downtown
      St.
      John.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      SATURDAY
     
    

    
     
      We
      woke
      up
      on
      the
      floor
      of
      a
     
     
      motel
      room
      that
      belonged
      to
     
     
      Summerside
      punk
      band
      Lending
      Jane.
     
     
      They
      played
      the
      72
      Hour
      Jam
      at
      four
     
     
      in
      the
      morning
      after
      Port
      Citizen
      the
     
     
      night
      before.
      During
      their
      set,
      some-
     
     
      one
      was
      stabbed
      in
      the
      line
      up
      to
      the
     
     
      Jam.
      The
      band
      got
      to
      play
      an
      extra
     
     
      twenty
      minutes
      because
      the
      emer-
     
     
      gency
      crew
      prevented
      the
      next
      group
     
     
      from
      getting
      in
      while
      helping
      the
      stab
     
     
      victim.
      We
      decided
      to
      avoid
      the
      Jam
     
     
      for
      the
      rest
      of
      the
      weekend.
     
    

    
     
      The
      unofficial
      showcases,
      at
     
     
      an
      all-ages
      venue
      called
      the
      Deep
      End,
     
     
      had
      a
      much
      more
      comfortable
      and
      safe
     
    
   
   
    
     
      [10]
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Chris
      Murphy’s
      cousin.
      And
      lady.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      atmosphere.
      The
      setting
      also
      doubled
     
     
      as
      an
      art
      gallery,
      so
      there
      were
      some
     
     
      really
      nice
      paintings
      in
      the
      open
     
     
      space.
      The
      audience
      was
      mostly
     
     
      young,
      straightedge
      and
      friendly.
      The
     
     
      bands
      were
      talented,
      original,
      and
     
     
      completely
      unknown.
      Sydney’s
      The
     
     
      Rudy
      Huxtable
      Project,
      and
      After
     
     
      School
      Special
      demonstrated
      the
      next
     
     
      wave
      of
      intelligent
      punk
      rock.
      Some
     
     
      local
      New
      Brunswick
      funk
      bands,
      Ted
     
     
      Neely’s
      Beard
      and
      The
      Greg
      Harrison
     
     
      Experiment,
      engaged
      the
      punk
      rock
     
     
      audience
      with
      their
      jazzy
      grooves
      and
     
     
      fresh
      jams.
      Charlottetown
      locals
      Port
     
     
      Citizen
      kept
      the
      dance
      floor
      bouncing
     
    
   
   
    
     
      _and
      Lending
      Jane
      played
      some
      poppy
     
    
   
   
    
     
      punk
      tunes
      without
      any
      stabbing
      inci-
     
     
      dents.
      And
      then
      there
      was
      Windom
     
     
      Earle.
      Goddamn.
      I
      can’t
      begin
      to
     
     
      describe
      how
      sexy
      they
      were.
     
     
      Especially
      that
      MacLeod
      guy.
     
     
      (Perhaps
      it
      will
      not
      interest
      you,
      but
     
     
      you
      might
      take
      note,
      if
      you
      have
      not
     
     
      already,
      that
      Mr.
      MacLeod
      is
      describ-
     
     
      ing
      himself
      in
      concert,
      which
      is
      pretty
     
     
      damn
      self-referential,
      excessive,
      and
     
     
      generally
      cute
      even
      for
      this
      article,
     
     
      and
      this
      newspaper.
      -Ed)
     
    

    
     
      Port
      Citizen
      provided
      ample
     
     
      opportunities
      for
      us
      to
      stalk
      and
      take
     
     
      pictures
      of
      them
      at
      the
      “no
      cases.”
     
     
      Since
      we
      didn’t
      see
      many
      celebrities
     
     
      on
      Saturday,
      I
      took
      plenty
      of
      photos
      of
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Brodie
      Read
      to
      compensate.
      I
      didn’t
     
     
      get
      out
      to
      any
      other
      shows
      after
      Port
     
     
      Citizen
      finished.
      The
      line
      up
      at
      Tapp’s
     
     
      was
      too
      big
      to
      get
      in,
      so
      we
      headed
      out
     
     
      to
      the
      Burger
      King.
      Then
      we
      rested
      for
     
     
      our
      final
      day
      of
      exploring.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      SUNDAY
     
    
   
   
    
     
      For
      breakfast
      we
      headed
      to
      the
     
     
      downtown
      market
      to
      eat
      and
      explore.
     
     
      After
      realizing
      that
      we
      had
      failed
      to
     
     
      successfully
      stalk
      all
      of
      the
      celebrities
     
     
      we
      had
      planned
      on
      seeing,
      we
      were
     
     
      filled
      with
      disappointment
      and
      regret.
     
     
      Brodie
      Read
      and
      Joel
      Plaskett
      were
     
     
      the
      only
      successful
      targets.
      Sure
      we
     
     
      had
      seen
      plenty
      of
      adventure,
      and
     
     
      heard
      some
      excellent
      bands,
      but
      not
     
     
      once
      had
      we
      spotted
      Rita
      MacNeil,
     
     
      The
      Men
      of
      the
      Deep,
      or
      Chris
     
     
      Murphy.
      After
      our
      breakfast
      of
      greasy
     
     
      poutine
      at
      Deluxe
      French
      Fries
      we
     
     
      took
      one
      final
      stroll
      through
      the
      tun-
     
     
      nels
      and
      pedways
      before
      going
      back
      to
     
     
      Charlottetown.
     
    

    
     
      Resting
      on
      a
      horribly
      designed
     
     
      bench
      on
      the
      second
      floor
      of
      the
      mall,
     
     
      we
      reflected
      on
      our
      expedition.
      As
      I
     
     
      mumbled
      something
      about
      wishing
      I
     
     
      could
      have
      seen
      more
      superstars,
      a
     
     
      slender
      shaggy
      guy
      in
      glasses
      walked
     
     
      by
      us.
      I
      asked
      my
      comrade
      if
      that
      was
     
     
      someone
      famous,
      but
      she
      was
      unsure.
     
     
      I
      had
      a
      hunch,
      so
      I
      got
      up
      and
      started
     
     
      walking
      in
      his
      direction.
      He
      was
      going
     
     
      down
      an
      escalator.
      I
      walked
      quickly
     
     
      towards
      the
      escalator
      full
      of
      excite-
     
     
      ment.
      The
      thrill
      of
      the
      hunt
      consumed
     
     
      me.
      We
      grabbed
      a
      camera
      and
      got
      it
     
    
   
   
    
     
      ready,
      just
      in
      case
      I
      was
      right.
      He
      was
     
     
      almost
      down
      the
      escalator
      just
      as
      we
     
     
      were
      getting
      on.
     
    

    
     
      I
      saw
      him
      turn
      left,
      and
      I
      knew
     
     
      it
      was
      Chris
      Murphy
      from
      Sloan.
      I
     
     
      decided
      it
      would
      be
      best
      if
      we
      cut
      him
     
     
      off,
      so
      we
      turned
      right
      as
      we
      got
      off
     
     
      the
      escalator
      and
      ran
      around
      the
      circle
     
     
      of
      the
      food
      court
      to
      reach
      him
      before
     
     
      he
      could
      escape.
      But
      when
      I
      took
      my
     
     
      eyes
      off
      him
      for
      a
      split
      second
      he
      dis-
     
    
   
   
    
     
      -
      appeared.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Disappointment.
      I
      searched
      all
     
     
      the
      shops
      in
      the
      mall
      but
      he
      was
     
     
      nowhere
      to
      be
      found.
      I
      even
      glanced
      at
     
     
      a
      display
      for
      Sloan’s
      new
      album
      at
     
     
      Radioland,
      but
      the
      poster
      image
      of
      his
     
     
      face
      only
      mocked
      me.
      We
      sat
      down
      on
     
     
      another
      horribly
      designed
      bench
     
     
      across
      from
      the
      record
      store
      and
      pout-
     
     
      ed.
      Behind
      us
      coming
      down
      the
      esca-
     
     
      lator
      was
      Charlottetown
      rock
      star,
     
     
      Mike
      MacDougall
      of
      the
      Eyes
      For
     
     
      Telescopes.
      I
      snapped
      a
      photo
      of
      Mike
     
     
      since
      the
      camera
      was
      ready
      anyway.
     
     
      He
      came
      over
      and
      told
      us
      that
      he
      was
     
     
      just
      stalking
      us.
      I
      felt
      so
      violated!
     
    

    
     
      We
      met
      up
      with
      the
      rest
      of
      the
     
     
      Telescopes
      in
      the
      mall.
      I
      asked
      Craig
     
     
      MacPherson,
      who
      is
      Chris
      Murphy’s
     
     
      cousin
      if
      he
      could
      get
      us
      into
      Sloan’s
     
     
      hotel
      room.
      But
      it
      was
      getting
      late,
     
     
      and
      we
      had
      to
      be
      leaving
      soon
      any-
     
     
      way.
      I
      guess
      getting
      a
      picture
      of
      Craig
     
     
      would
      be
      kind
      of
      similar
      to
      getting
     
     
      one
      of
      Chris
      Murphy.
      They
      both
      play
     
     
      bass,
      and
      have
      similar
      genes.
      Maybe
     
     
      next
      ECMA’s
      I’ll
      find
      Anne
      Murray’s
     
     
      nephew.
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Goddamn
      Windom
      Earle.
      Goddamn.