We always get a little twitchy when first arriving at an overseas airport.  Most of the time, we will have no clue what the person(s) picking us up look like.  We would expect that they may recognise us, if only for the couple of trolleys stacked with guitars, but other than that we are at our clients/promoters mercy.  It would be just dandy if someone would discreetly walk over to us and say "Hello.... I assume you are the group we have come to pick up".
If only it was that comfortable!  On many occasions we have walked through the arrivals door to find the strangest of people holding up the most enormous sign board with the word "BEATLES" written on it.  Worse than that, there is the occasional gross mis-spelling....the stand out one was "WELCOME THE CRAVEN BATTLES".....  four little bottoms were kissing their underpants.  Dirk hates this the most.  Rick really hates it too, but not as much as the pleasure he gets from Dirk hating it........we are all a bit twisted in this way.
Our arrival in Zagreb, however, was as stress-free as arrivals ever get.  Tomislav, who was our man on the ground, so to speak, made none of the embarrassing motions we had previously encountered.  He spoke perfect English, and with the minimum of fuss, ushered us to our mini bus for the drive into the city centre.

We'd arrived quite late into Croatia, so after a drink in the hotel bar, Dirk and Roy headed for bed.  Eddie and Rick decided that it was too early and headed off with Tomislav to find a pub and then on to the Hard Rock Cafe.
Eddie's absence the following morning was to be expected, but the other three braved the heavy downpour of rain and set off to explore the city centre.  It was very grey and very cold, but we all liked it.
Ed had recovered by lunchtime and we met up to go with Tomislav for food.

The actual gig was a launch party for the new Mini...  I think.....  or maybe they were giving one away as prize for something....whatever...there was one parked outside the venue.  We had a few problems with the stage which initially was the size of a snooker table, but with a little creativity turning the drums slightly sideways and putting Eddie in another room....we just about managed to fit on.  The rest of the equipment was another story.
The changing room was, bizarrely, a small theatre next door complete with stage, lights, curtains etc. etc.  We didn't even bother to ask the obvious question, we just set our stage gear out and shut up.  We would later be sharing this room with about 20 dancers.
In spite of the equipment problems, the gig was really good and we went down very well.  It was quite unusual for this type of gig for the audience to stand and watch.  But that they did and they were very appreciative.
We hung around after the show to try to suss out where to go for a drink.  The jazz bar we were pointed to, turned out to be rather disappointing, so after a couple of scoops we set off in search of a kebab.  
What we found was just about the nearest thing you could hope to find to a late night kebab shop in the UK.  And boy were we ready for it.  Eddie was a little more than ready, and made a double order.  There was much tutting and warnings of "you'll be sick" going on...  but our Ed was having none of it....polishing off the whole lot and slam dunking the wrappers in the bin.  The time bomb was now ticking!!!
At the airport the next day...we witnessed what appeared to be .... some bloke selling a few MiG 21 fighter jets.  We watched from the restaurant window as a couple of these Russian fighters bombed up and down the runway taking off and landing and doing low passes over the airport.  On the tarmac two cars were parked, and it really did seem like some sort of deal was going on.  Our flight to Munich was slightly delayed so we watched the scene for a good while and learned that Dirk used to enjoy building model warships as a youth.
At Munich we were making our connection back to Manchester.  5 -4 -3 -2 -1.....The bomb I spoke of earlier was about to go off, and the dodgy food Eddie had gorged not 12 hours earlier was ready to unleash its full fury on our comrade.
"Where's the bog?......  I think I've shit me kecks!"
We howled as Ed shuffled down the stairs towards the Teutonic toilets and wondered how he could walk at all...with his thighs that close together.  Roy always carries things for this sort of emergency, and was able to offer young Ed something to make the flight home more bearable....   a bottle of CK One and a bung!
 

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