My Other Paul Shows
Sunday, July 20, 2008. This was the very first time I’d ever traveled outside of the United States. It was announced that Paul was to give a free concert in Quebec City in celebration of the City’s 500th Anniversary. The concert was on a battlefield, the Plains of Abraham. I could drive and I didn’t have to fly. And, the show was free. I couldn’t have been more excited!
I made plans to rent a car, stay at either a cheap motel or a hostel, and go to the show. I was still a moderator on the message board at PaulMcCartney.com then, and one of my fellow moderators, who happened to live pretty close by, mentioned to me that she was thinking about going up to Quebec as well. So, I thought we should just go together. I agreed to pay for the car rental, but everything else—gas, room, food, etc—was to be split down the middle. It didn’t quite work out that way.
Originally, I wanted to make a mini-vacation out of the trip and explore the city. I printed out things to do and see off the internet, as I planned to drive up on Friday and come back on Monday. My companion balked at that, and as a compromise, I agreed to drive up on Saturday, see the show on Sunday, and drive back on Monday. When it came time to pick up the car I reserved, they were out of them. I ended up with a white Ford Mustang, which is pretty fantastic except for when gas is over $4 a gallon. I didn’t realize that until somewhere in the middle of Vermont.
I picked up my companion and we made our way North. We had no problems at the border; it was sunny and beautiful when we got there. My companion refused to stay in anything other than a bed and breakfast, and the one she found, while close to the Plains, wasn’t exactly the least expensive place. However, I soon put that out of my mind as the place itself was very quaint and I adored the owners.
My companion and I got up early Sunday morning, and had a lovely breakfast. The Bed & Breakfast that we stayed at in Quebec was the most charming place I’ve ever been. It’s called Le 253 and the proprietors are two lovely gentlemen: Michel and Mario.
We took the bus into the city center, and wound up very near the Plains. I have no idea how that happened because the map we had didn’t have all of the streets on it and no one really would assist us with directions.
I took lots of photos of the signage announcing Paul’s show. I also took a photo with the General Lee from The Dukes of Hazard TV show. There were classic cars lined up on the street near the Fort. I had to laugh. I went all the way to Canada and ended up getting a photo with an orange car with a dixie flag painted on the top of it.
Anyway, we made it to the Plains somewhere around 10:30am. There were several different entrances, but the one we went through was the gate that we were told would open first at 5:30. Our intention wasn’t really to camp out all day, but that’s what we did. My plans to tour the city were overruled; not that it turned out to be a bad idea, we just weren’t prepared. We hadn’t brought anything to eat or drink with us, we left it all back at Le 253 with the intention of retrieving it after we explored Quebec City.
There weren’t a whole lot of people there when we arrived; I’d guess there were probably 500-800 other people. This is not a lot when you consider that there were in excess of 300,000 people on the Plains that day. Beatles music blared on the local radio station, and there were nice people from Montreal all around us that helped to translate for us. I was immensely grateful for that. We arrived early enough for me to have been able to buy a commemorative t-shirt on the Plains. However, I had a feeling that I’d need that money in order to get home. As it turns out, I was very much right.
At around 4:00 the crowd had grown so much that all we could see was a sea of people behind us. The crowd rushed forward towards the first gate, and then we stood. At almost 5, Paul and his band (Wix, Rusty, Abe and Brian) took the stage for sound check. I immediately started happy dancing—I’d never experienced sound check before. There were folks around my companion and me who were surprised that we knew all of the words to the songs Paul sang in sound check. Some of them tried to ask us to write the words, but the language barrier was a bit difficult at times.
The crowd started moving forward after 5:30. My companion had a little chair, which they took away, but they didn’t search our bags. Once through this gate, you literally had to run over the hills down to the next gate. If we hadn’t run, we would’ve been trampled. Considering the fact that my companion and I both really do not run, this was a feat. The second gate was a tiny little entrance that you had to squeeze through. Once we got thru it, we pushed our way through and wrangled spots very close to the stage, on stage right; which is the left hand side of the stage if you’re facing it.
If there had been rows, I’d have to guess we would have been about 30 rows back. When you consider that there were in excess of 300,000 people there, I’d say we were pretty damned close. We didn’t have to watch the big screens on the side of the stage to see him.
My companion was disabled and we were told before we went to Quebec that the handicapped section was full but that we should try to find someone on site to help out. So, we did some research and found out that the special section was to the left hand side of the stage; which is why we went to that side. I went and found someone who spoke English and explained about my companion. He thought I was lying and dismissed me. It pissed me off. I’d lost my companion in the crowd and I pushed my way back through to tell her that it was useless to try and get into the special section. Then, a person in a motorized wheelchair ran into my leg. I screamed and told him to stop, but he didn’t. He kept hitting me. Now, even if you don’t speak English, people can understand screaming in pain. It’s not hard. However, it wasn’t until someone told him in French that he was hurting me that he stopped, backed up and tried to turn around—in a crowd of people. He was such a smart man. I was literally trapped inside a wall of people; there was no place either one of us to go.
I was in agony. My companion found me and I had multiple bumps, scrapes and bruises on my leg. I truly needed some Advil and an ice pack. I tried to go back to the security guard I’d just spoken to, but he thought I was faking, he wouldn’t listen to me. I ended up sitting on the ground, my leg swollen and turning purple in various places. My companion’s attempts to find a way out of the crowd to get help were futile, so she pulled her disabled sticker out of her purse, took it up to the security guard, and explained the entire situation. I really needed some help.
It was only after she explained that they finally offered any help, but all they would do was giving me a bag of ice. They refused to do anything else, unless I wanted them to drag me out of there and take me to the hospital. I just spent nine and a half hours sitting in the hot sun on a battlefield without food or drink; not to mention all of the money I’d spent up until that point (which was more than my fair share) to see Paul McCartney. There was no way that I was going to miss this show, I told them. I just needed to rest and Tylenol at the very minimum would have been nice. They refused to give me anything other than one ice pack.
My companion did manage to get a bottle of water to split between us; we hadn’t had a drop of water or a scrap of food all day. And, I admit that I was a less than happy camper. But, I vowed never again would I do this to myself. No more injuries at concerts. I’d had enough.
Macca took the stage at about 9:30 that night. I managed to get up off the ground in enough time to see him walk out on the stage.
He was magnificent! His voice was incredible and I really liked the fact that he didn’t start off with Drive My Car. He was in great form, and it truly looked like he was having fun up there on the stage.
There just aren’t enough adjectives to describe the show. I mean, it was absolutely phenomenal. There were two encores. He included Mrs. Vandebilt; which was awesome. I’d never heard that live before. I must admit that I pretty much knew the line up of songs just by the intro, but it was all good. There were a couple of times that the sound cut out, and had feedback. But, honestly, no one really cared. The positive energy in the crowd was so powerful that it was almost overwhelming!
Paul was just absolutely radiant and I have to say that he did pretty well with his French. I know that he was reading it from a monitor, but still it’s not exactly easy for a non-native speaker.
Honestly, I’d have to say that this was the best concert. It had such a powerful vibe to it; it was impossible not to have a good time while Paul was onstage. I think it’s the best show, regardless of the artist, that I’ve ever witnessed, and I’ve been to a lot of concerts. I can’t properly explain how just absolutely uplifting it was to see Paul in his element.
Favorite part of the show: Give Peace a Chance. It was amazing to see hundreds of thousands of people singing and waiving the peace sign, I was moved to tears. Hey Jude was another highlight for me.
I managed to forget about the pain in my leg and the fact that it was swollen about three times its normal size. After the show, we had very little direction on how to get back to where we were staying. All of the instructions were in French, and whenever we found someone who spoke English they just ended up giving us wrong directions—even a police officer did this to us. That surprised me. We missed all of the busses that went off the Plains and the only places to eat that we could find had closed their kitchens for the night, but “you can drink as much as you’d like.” I thought that was a bit funny.
We came across a man who sold knock off “Paul McCartney in Quebec” t-shirts. I asked him how much and it was only five dollars so I bought one. I truly figured that was the only shirt I was going to get; though I did end up ordering an official t-shirt online. That’s a whole other can of worms, though. It took almost 4 months to get it.
We eventually had no choice but to walk back to Le 253. We were so exhausted by the time we got back to our room that we could barely function. We ate, drank a ton of water, and then I had to lie down. My companion grabbed something cold for me to put on my leg, and then she retired.
We got up the next morning, and Michel and Mario made breakfast for us. They also picked up the daily papers for us; of course Paul was on the cover. I thought that was nice. My companion demanded that we at least drive by the hotel where Paul stayed, and Mario gave us directions. The road was narrow, winding, and incredibly steep, but we eventually found the Chateau Marmont. I thought it was exquisitely beautiful, but I wanted to get out of Quebec. I had to have the rental car back by 5pm or I’d have to pay for another day.
We got lost on the way back and ended up having to turn around and go almost all the way back into Quebec City in order to go the right way. I’d paid for everything with my debit card, and what little cash my companion gave me was barely enough to cover her half of the expenses. I ended up paying for nearly 98% of the trip; which was more expensive than I budgeted for. I dug an incredibly deep hole for myself, and I didn’t recover financially until about mid-November.
We were also detained at the US border. There was an issue with my companion’s passport. It took over an hour to get clearance, but by then I knew it was too late; there was no way I could make it back to Boston by 5pm, we’d lost way too much time. I was incredibly happy to be back in the USA, and I would’ve kissed the ground right there at the border if it hadn’t been pouring the rain. I almost did it anyway.
We stopped to gas up and I totally ran out of money. Then, my companion decided to pull out the $50 she’d been holding back in order to get us both something to eat. That enraged me. Here I was so worried about whether or not I had enough money for gas, and she was holding out on me. I couldn’t wait to get home. I learned many valuable lessons on this trip to Quebec.
I was convinced immediately afterwards that the show wasn’t worth all of the hell I went through. Now, I realize that, in spite of all of the negative things that happened, we were a part of history; it truly was a once-in-a-lifetime event. And, I am blessed to have been a small part of that.