Fri., May 15, Affalter, Germany - Gasthaus zur Linde-- By the time we were ready to leave Muhldorf the next morning, Petra had received a message on her service from Phil. He said he was definitely interested, so everyone was elated that the bass player problem appeared to be solved. Joanna, Dede and I began discussing timetables for hooking Phil up with the band. Of course, it all depended on Phil's ability to travel on short notice, but we all agreed the sooner the better after arriving back in the States. I reassured Joanna that Phil would have no problem with the material and that he was a fast study. We then headed out on the long journey to Affalter, the most dreaded of all the venues, right in the middle of old Eastern Germany... Tony, Joanna and Petra had all sorts of horror stories about the place--the people were dreary or drunk and obnoxious (Tony told the tale of two overly intoxicated fans who were literally chewing on the monitor speaker cables at the last gig there); the hotel was just a step above concrete slabs and cots; the town was depressed, dirty and not a pretty place to be. At least, that was five years ago... As we rolled into this alleged hellhole, after hours of traversing back country roads, we arrived in a charming rural farming community. Where was this? Affalter. Not so bad so far...the club--a nice big ol' barn of a building that had been there since the town was founded a couple of hundred years ago. We were heartily greeted by the owner and loaded in. We were then graciously served appetizers and our choice of beverages by a pert and alert young barmaid, and Maryam fully entertained three of the women staff who oo'ed and ah'ed over her for half an hour. The sound guys were professional and efficient, and the sound check went off quickly without a hitch. I'm waiting for some attitude here--some dreariness. Then Petra brings the news: it's not the same hotel. Everyone breathed a sigh of relief, and then wondered if it was worse. No, apparently it's quite nice. We had driven by it on the way to the club--the Country Pension--which is basically a bed & breakfast place. So we headed down there and checked in to some impeccably clean rooms with charming furniture and decor--very cozy. Tony was amazed. But soon his amazement turned to irony, and then a downright lament. "Where is the old Affalter? I want to get down and get dirty. Where is it?" He hoped for the regular crowd the band was used to on previous trips. We arrived for showtime with a small but enthusiastic crowd present. No real drunks yet. The place had the feel of a Midwest U.S. nightclub, actually. Everyone was quite polite and reserved. The show got underway with the best sound system so far, and we sounded great. On the break "Rusty" showed up. Rusty was Affalter's diehard Joanna fan. Still wearing the t-shirt Jo gave him five years before, Rusty came backstage to see Joanna. In the previous incarnation of Affalter, allegedly everyone was drunk and obnoxious except Rusty, who, at the last gig, had attempted to break up a fist fight in front of the stage and ended up with a fist in his face from a women he refused to hit back. In this incarnation of Affalter, however, everyone else was sober except Rusty and his friend, who were both falling down drunk. The Democratic Republic had arrived in town and Rusty couldn't handle it, apparently. At the end of the show, Rusty was becoming increasingly demanding, wanting Joanna to spend time and attention on him, so she retreated with Petra and Tony into the green room, refusing to answer the door to Rusty's repeated pounding. After I had packed up the drums and gotten them ready for loading, I went to the green room, knocked on the door, but there was no answer. I then figured, well, maybe they're in the upstairs bar. I checked it, no one there. I looked after we had arrived in Europe. Plus, Joanna's feuds and worries around her mother were interfering in a big way with Joanna's performance on stage and with her focus, which Petra considered to be a lack of proper priorities. We returned to the Village the next day, late...and that was the beginning of the end...

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