Stomping
      Tom,
      or
      Jimmy
      Flynn.
     
    

    
     
      The
      thought
      of
      stalking
     
     
      celebrities
      all
      weekend
      was
      on
      my
     
     
      mind,
      but
      before
      reaching
      the
      under-
     
     
      ground
      tunnel
      to
      the
      Hilton,
      I
      noticed
     
     
      the
      Saint
      John
      Trade
      and
      Convention
     
     
      Centre,
      the
      location
      of
      the
      official
     
     
      ECMA
      showcases.
      Like
      an
      eight-year-
     
     
      old
      with
      attention
      deficit
      disorder,
      I
     
     
      completely
      forgot
      about
      my
      plan
      to
     
     
      stalk
      Joel
      Plaskett
      and
      started
      explor-
     
     
      ing
      the
      showcase
      venue.
      They
      had
      a
     
     
      well
      stocked
      gift
      shop
      with
      clothing
     
     
      that
      would
      look
      nice
      if
      it
      didn’t
      have
     
     
      ugly
      ECMA
      logos
      slapped
      all
      over
      it.
     
     
      After
      the
      initial
      shock
      and
      disappoint-
     
     
      ment
      of
      the
      overpriced,
      ugly
      merchan-
     
     
      dise
      we
      realized
      that
      we
      would
      be
      bet-
     
     
      ter
      off
      chasing
      rock
      stars
      around
      rather
     
     
      than
      looking
      at
      a
      bunch
      of
      crap.
     
    

    
     
      Since
      we
      missed
      our
      opportu-
     
     
      nity
      to
      stalk
      Joel
      Plaskett,
      we
      decided
     
     
      to
      look
      at
      a
      local
      entertainment
      news-
     
     
      paper
      to
      see
      if
      any
      other
      celebrities
     
     
      would
      be
      in
      town.
      As
      my
      colleague
     
     
      would
      recognize
      the
      name
      of
      someone
     
     
      worthy
      of
      stalking,
      she
      would
      draw
      a
     
     
      heart
      around
      their
      name
      with
      one
      of
     
     
      our
      complimentary
      pens
      from
      the
     
     
      Hilton.
      After
      filling
      the
      newspaper
     
     
      with
      heart-shaped
      doodles
      around
     
     
      names
      like
      Chris
      Murphy,
      Jimmy
     
     
      Rankin,
      and
      Bruce
      Guthro,
      we
      hoped
     
     
      to
      bump
      into
      these
      East
      Coast
      megas-
     
     
      tars
      at
      the
      official
      showcases.
     
    

    
     
      We
      found
      a
      table
      in
      the
      middle
     
     
      of
      the
      Convention
      Centre
      while
      Nova
     
     
      Scotia’s
      Madhat
      blasted
      some
      punky
     
     
      alterna-tunes
      through
      a
      shitty
      sound
     
     
      system
      to
      an
      audience
      of
      music
      indus-
     
     
      try
      slime-balls
      and
      media
      types.
      Next
     
     
      up
      was
      Charlottetown’s
      Flush,
      but
     
     
      while
      they
      were
      setting
      up
      two
      com-
     
     
      plete
      morons
      attempted
      to
      engage
      the
     
     
      audience
      with
      some
      banter.
      Besides
     
     
      having
      absolutely
      no
      chemistry
      and
      no
     
     
      clue
      about
      the
      bands
      they
      were
      pre-
     
     
      senting,
      the
      MCs
      were
      prone
      to
      not
     
     
      talking
      into
      their
      microphones
      -
      which
     
     
      would
      have
      been
      great
      if
      they
      could
     
     
      have
      not
      being
      on
      the
      stage
      at
      the
     
    

    
     
      Flush’s
      set
      started
      well
      with
      a
     
     
      tremendous
      amount
      of
      energy.
      The
     
     
      crowd
      of
      execs
      and
      music
      pimps
      was-
     
     
      n’t
      the
      most
      receptive
      audience
      in
      the
     
     
      world.
      There
      was
      something
      about
      the
     
     
      room
      full
      of
      sleazy
      old
      people
      sitting
     
     
      at
      tables
      that
      would
      be
      better
      suited
      to
     
     
      a
      Las
      Vegas
      magic
      act,
      not
      a
      young
     
    
   
   
    
     
      tH
      EYRE
      He
      FG
      Piri
     
    
   
   
    
     
      hard
      rock
      group
      from
      PEI.
      Robbie
     
     
      Holland
      of
      Flush
      tried
      to
      get
      a
      reaction
     
     
      from
      the
      crowd
      by
      jumping
      off
      the
     
     
      stage
      and
      running
      around
      the
      tables
     
     
      with
      his
      wireless
      electric
      guitar
      in
      the
     
     
      middle
      of
      a
      song.
      As
      he
      was
      returning
     
     
      to
      the
      stage
      he
      stopped
      and
      said
      hi
      to
     
     
      me.
      I
      felt
      like
      talking
      for
      a
      bit,
      but
      he
     
     
      still
      had
      a
      showcase
      to
      finish
      so
      I
      took
     
     
      a
      photo
      then
      bid
      Robbie
      farewell
      as
      he
     
     
      rejoined
      the
      rest
      of
      the
      band
      on
      stage.
     
    

    
     
      After
      Flush
      played,
      the
     
     
      moronic
      MCs
      annoyed
      the
      living
      hell
     
     
      out
      of
      me
      for
      another
      five
      minutes.
     
     
      Next
      up
      was
      an
      instrumental
      band
     
     
      from
      Cape
      Breton
      that
      blended
      new
     
     
      age
      techno
      and
      space-funk
      with
      hints
     
     
      of
      traditional
      Celtic
      music.
      Slainte
     
     
      Mhath
      (pronounced
      slawncha
      vha)
     
     
      have
      been
      plucking
      their
      instruments
     
     
      in
      the
      shadow
      of
      the
      older
      siblings,
     
     
      The
      Barra
      MacNeils,
      for
      several
      years
     
     
      now,
      but
      they
      have
      only
      just
      recently
     
     
      started
      getting
      recognition
      for
      their
     
     
      original
      sound
      and
      entertaining
      live
     
     
      show.
      They
      kind
      of
      sound
      like
     
     
      Underworld
      and
      Chemical
      Brothers
     
     
      except
      with
      fiddles
      and
      bagpipes
     
     
      instead
      of
      drum
      machines
      and
      sam-
     
     
      plers.
      They
      are
      also
      pretty
      inventive
     
     
      with
      the
      instruments
      they
      use.
      I’ve
     
     
      never
      heard
      a
      bazouki
      played
      through
     
     
      a
      wah
      wah
      peddle,
      a
      portable
      sewer
     
     
      pipe
      (with
      a
      handy
      shoulder
      strap)
     
     
      used
      as
      a
      percussive
      instrument,
      or
      a
     
     
      vocoder
      hooked
      up
      to
      a
      violin
      before
      I
     
     
      saw
      Slainte
      Mhath.
     
    

    
     
      By
      the
      time
      Slainte
      Mhath
      fin-
     
     
      ished
      up,
      Joel
      Plaskett
      was
      starting
      his
     
     
      set
      at
      Much
      Music’s
      Dog
      and
      Pony
     
     
      Show
      at
      Tapp’s.
      Now
      that
      we
      knew
      his
     
     
      exact
      location,
      we
      were
      not
      going
      to
     
     
      miss
      the
      opportunity
      to
      stalk
      him
      once
     
     
      again.
      A
      group
      of
      explorers
      from
     
     
      Sydney
      informed
      us
      that
      we
      did
      not
     
     
      have
      to
      walk
      in
      the
      cold,
      harsh
      envi-
     
     
      ronment
      outside
      to
      reach
      Tapp’s.
      Our
     
     
      media
      passes
      gave
      us
      access
      to
      a
      con-
     
     
      venient
      and
      free
      shuttle
      system
      that
     
    
   
   
    
     
      could
      drive
      us
      anywhere
      we
      needed
      to
     
    
   
   
    
     
      go.
      Darryl
      MacKinnon,
      an
      adventurer
     
     
      from
      Sydney
      was
      our
      guide
      to
      the
     
     
      shuttle
      service.
      A
      couple
      of
      mini
      vans
     
     
      with
      ECMA
      stickers
      on
      the
      window
     
     
      were
      parked
      outside
      the
      Trade
      and
     
     
      Convention
      Centre.
      One
      was
      already
     
     
      filled
      with
      other
      explorers
      in
      passes
     
     
      about
      to
      leave,
      so
      we
      opted
      to
      wait
      for
     
     
      the
      driver
      of
      one
      of
      the
      other
      vans
      to
     
     
      show
      up
      and
      safely
      transport
      us
     
    
   
   
    
     
      SDD
      RMA
      eI
      Sats
     
    
   
   
    
     
       
     
    
   
   
    
     
      Joel
      Plaskett
      captured!
     
    
   
   
    
     
      through
      the
      confusing
      maze
      of
      one
     
     
      way
      streets
      in
      Saint
      John.
     
    

    
     
      An
      elderly
      gentleman
      arrived
     
     
      and
      allowed
      us
      in
      his
      van.
      Other
      trav-
     
     
      elers
      quickly
      filled
      up
      the
      vehicle.
     
     
      Another
      group
      of
      Cape
      Bretoners
     
     
      joined
      us
      and
      we
      made
      fun
      of
      saxa-
     
     
      phone
      players
      as
      we
      left.
      Apparently
     
     
      the
      Cape
      Bretoners
      had
      difficulty
      in
     
     
      the
      last
      shuttle
      van
      they
      attempted
      to
     
     
      travel
      in.
      Something
      about
      getting
     
     
      thrown
      out
      of
      the
      minivan
      before
      it
     
     
      even
      left,
      and
      one
      of
      them
      actually
     
     
      thinking
      that
      they
      had
      arrived
      at
      their
     
     
      destination
      despite
      the
      fact
      that
      the
     
     
      van
      never
      left
      the
      parking
      lot.
      Our
     
     
      driver
      was
      really
      good
      at
      not
      kicking
     
     
      us
      out,
      and
      actually
      driving.
     
    

    
     
      We
      arrived
      safely
      at
      Tapp’s
     
     
      and
      got
      in
      free
      with
      our
      fancy
      media
     
     
      passes.
      No
      line
      up.
      No
      hassle.
      Joel
     
     
      Plaskett
      was
      in
      the
      middle
      of
      playing,
     
     
      so
      we
      Sat
      at
      a
      table
      near
      the
      back
      to
     
     
      avoid
      arousing
      any
      suspicion.
      I
      was
     
     
      certain
      he
      had
      no
      idea
      we
      were
      stalk-
     
     
      ing
      him,
      but
      you
      can’t
      take
      any
     
     
      chances.
      If
      he
      ever
      made
      eye
      contact,
     
     
      or
      noticed
      us
      circling
      hearts
      around
     
     
      his
      name
      in
      newspapers,
      our
      cover
     
     
      would
      have
      been
      blown.
      I
      took
      advan-
     
     
      tage
      of
      him
      being
      distracted
      by
      play-
     
     
      ing
      a
      show
      to
      slowly
      make
      my
      way
      up
     
     
      to
      the
      front
      and
      snap
      a
      few
      pictures
     
     
      without
      him
      noticing
      me.
      The
      mission
     
     
      was
      a
      success.
     
    

    
     
      After
      capturing
      Joel
      Plaskett’s
     
     
      image,
      the
      thrill
      of
      stalking
      him
      came
     
     
      to
      an
      abrupt
      ending.
      I
      needed
      to
      move
     
     
      on
      to
      someone
      else.
      Rock
      Ranger
     
     
      were
      playing
      after
      him,
      but
      I’ve
     
     
      stalked
      those
      guys
      enough
      already.
     
     
      Charlottetown’s
      Port
      Citizen
      had
      a
     
    
   
   
    
     
      show
      at
      the
      ECMA
      72
      Hour
      Jam
      that
     
     
      evening.
      I’ve
      never
      stalked
      a
      local
     
     
      rock
      band
      before,
      so
      tracking
      down
     
     
      Port
      Citizen
      seemed
      like
      the
      obvious
     
     
      thing
      to
      do.
      My
      companion
      had
      a
      his-
     
     
      tory
      of
      stalking
      PEI
      rock
      stars.
      With
     
     
      our
      combined
      experience,
      it
      couldn’t
     
     
      be
      too
      difficult
      to
      get
      a
      few
      shots
      of
     
     
      Port
      Citizen.
      Despite
      our
      confidence,
     
     
      nothing
      could
      have
      prepared
      us
      for
      the
     
     
      difficulty
      of
      navigating
      through
      the
     
     
      cold
      snowy
      streets
      of
      Saint
      John.
     
    

    
     
      The
      ECMA
      shuttle
      service
     
     
      stopped
      operating
      at
      around
      1:00,
      so
     
     
      we
      had
      nobody
      to
      guide
      us.
      We
      had
     
     
      spent
      most
      of
      the
      day
      inside
      the
      con-
     
     
      nected
      tunnels
      of
      the
      mall
      downtown,
     
     
      and
      we
      knew
      our
      way
      around
      them
     
     
      pretty
      well,
      but
      once
      we
      emerged
      into
     
     
      the
      treacherous
      weather
      and
      the
     
     
      unplowed
      streets
      of
      downtown,
      we
     
     
      were
      completely
      lost.
      Maps
      of
      Saint
     
     
      John
      were
      included
      in
      our
      ECMA
     
     
      backpacks,
      and
      they
      were
      slightly
     
     
      helpful
      in
      finding
      the
      correct
      general
     
     
      direction
      of
      some
      bars,
      however
      the
     
     
      maps
      failed
      to
      mention
      which
      streets
     
     
      were
      one-way.
     
    

    
     
      The
      second
      time
      I
      went
      down
     
     
      a
      road
      the
      wrong
      way,
      a
      police
      car
     
     
      pulled
      us
      over.
      I
      turned
      around
      and
     
     
      headed
      in
      the
      right
      direction.
      The
      third
     
     
      time
      I
      almost
      turned
      the
      wrong
      way
     
     
      onto
      another
      one-way
      street,
      the
      cop
     
     
      who
      was
      following
      me
      turned
      on
      his
     
     
      siren
      and
      told
      me
      through
      a
      mega
     
     
      phone
      that
      I
      couldn’t
      turn
      left.
      I’m
      still
     
     
      unsure
      of
      how
      the
      roads
      work,
      but
     
     
      after
      a
      few
      turns
      and
      confusion
      |
      even-
     
     
      tually
      found
      the
      72
      Hour
      Jam.
      It
      was
     
     
      conveniently
      located
      across
      the
      street
     
     
      from
      the
      bar
      we
      just
      came
      out
      of.
     
    
   
   
    
     
      [9]
     
    
   
   
    
     
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