greasy fingers at heathrow

i travel quite a bit for work. when it first started, it was kind of cool; if the idea of jetting around was not vaguely glamorous, it was at least fun.

but it got old very quickly. i soon realized the only places i’m getting to know well are airports and hotels. where i am mattered only in terms of the time difference with new york, and when i can call home.

i usually cram every available minute on the road with meetings or work. this shorten the trips considerably, but it also makes them more intense and exhausting, not to mention leaves me with no time for record shopping.

i used to spend at least 2 full days scouring soho record stores each time i visited london. recently, however, by the time i think about record shopping, i’m already on my way to heathrow. so i have to settle for the virgin megastore, or more accurately megakiosk, in the international departure lounge.

for whatever reason, in addition to the usual pop chart suspects, the store stocks a surprisingly good selection of inexpensive vintage r+b compilations. so about 4 times a year, i would find myself 7.00 in the morning, severely sleep-deprived and hands still greasy from the bacon and egg sandwich i just washed down with a hot chocolate, riffling through the duty-free racks for little soul nuggets.

not a pretty sight to be sure, but when i find mid-70s songs like detroit’s boby (yes, that's with one “b”) franklin’s “the ladies choice” or the ensemble effort of voice of east harlem’s “cashing in”, both from " the blackpool mecca story" compilation from uk's northern soul emporium goldmine/soul supply, it helps me forget how tired i am and how happy that i’m going home.

Posted by cellpharmer at March 8, 2006 09:28 AM