Short Story | Ital

I think the touring life is probably all about accumulating as many mayday-survival stories as possible, at least as important to the whole experience as playing music every night etc etc. My most recent mayday experience involved a botched attempt to make it to a gig in Hong Kong with my Mi Ami collaborator Damon, aka Magic Touch. We had been playing shows in China together, and our final blowout before parting ways was a last minute DJ gig in HK. The night before, we played at a gay bar downtown Shanghai and then hustled over to a Move D show a couple neighborhoods away. It was great, we got hammered, and eventually staggered back to the hotel. But since we had flown to China from different cities, and were headed different places afterwards, we had separate flights to HK. Damon left first by two hours, and agreed to just wait at the airport for me before heading into town.

Unfortunately, when I arrived to check in, early and excited, I found out a troublesome bureaucratic error standing in my way and I was not allowed on the flight. Parsing out the details of this situation was difficult since no one spoke English and, without a phone, internet access, or a number, I was simply instructed to “call Delta,” the company who had delegated this portion of my journey to Shanghai Airlines. After much hand gesturing and intense frustration, I was able to secure a line on a failing fax machine in the back office, a dingy, cramped room filled with curious, busy airport employees grudgingly inconvenienced by my dilemma.

I eventually got Delta on the line, and they were as confused as I as to why I was, at that moment, missing my flight. I was promptly put on hold with the promise that a supervisor would be consulted, and, ever trusting, I relaxed. But as the minutes progressed closer and closer to an hour, and then an hour and a half, I wondered if I had been forgotten. Meanwhile, I was told by an employee of Shanghai Air that no flights were leaving for HK and that I would surely miss my show.

This is when I decided I was a classical musician not only playing a concert that night but also lecturing at a children’s school earlier in the day. I thought that sounded more respectable and urgent than bemoaning my lost DJ gig.

I was briefly taken off hold for a moment and was able to drop that bomb, and was now formulating a request, no, a demand for not one, but TWO free round trip tickets to Europe from Delta as a compensation for my troubles. Surely this egregious error demanded profound reparations, lest I, Ital, the world famous classical musician of unknown instrument and beloved lecturer, never fly Delta again. And think of the children.

I also began to notice I needed to vomit.

And I thought about the chicken tacos I drunkenly inhaled outside the Move D show. Both rounds.

I burped, and felt faint, and burped some more, and also noticed some activity on the other end, but I needed to know the status of my connection, and desperately wanted to hit them up for those tickets. So I waited, scoping out the room for any buckets or trashcans that I could commandeer in an emergency.

As the minutes ticked on, I began to sweat more and more, my condition worsening and the inevitable looming larger and larger. I would soon desperately need a bathroom, and perhaps for a not-insignificant amount of time. For a gleeful moment, I was able to pass on the receiver to one of the employees of the airline while he and my man at Delta discussed the particulars of my ticket status (it was canceled, of course). I poked my head out into the hallway, but no restrooms were available in the private corridors of the airport, God knows why. I was panicking, torn between throwing up (and potentially more) all over this office and missing out on the free Euro tour I had convinced myself I was owed. Moreover, I still had no answer for my more immediate concern of my trip to HK, and along with it, my much-anticipated return to NYC.

So imagine my shock when I reentered the room only to find my Chinese friend hanging up the phone. “Ok” he said “we have a ticket.” My head was swirling. I was in a cold sweat, flush and queasy and feeling more horrible with each passing minute, but in a quick mental calculation, I concluded I would not be allowed back to that phone if I left to retch my guts out (or probably if I left for any reason at all), and that potentially saving close to $2000 was worth some more agony. So I pulled myself together and informed him that I actually had one more pressing question for Delta and could I please use the phone again. This was following immediately on the heels of an almost two hour wait on hold, occasionally punctuated by check-ins where I would be thanked for remaining on hold and asked to remain on hold just a little longer.

My new friend sighed, apologized for hanging up, and said yes, of course (a minor miracle), but after some hazy, half-hearted arguing, all I could secure was a $200 voucher. Getting anything at all was such a relief that my whole body surged in a chorus of “fuck it,” I accepted, and ran downstairs where I immediately cleared my stomach of all food, liquid, and a preview round of neon green goo that I assume is its lining. I caught a cab back to the hotel we had been staying in, was teased by the women at the front desk for coming back so soon, and promptly puked a bunch more of incandescent green bile for the duration of the evening.

When I finally met up with Damon the following day, he showed me pictures of an outdoor patio overlooking the beach, with a huge soundsystem, a DJ rig, and a bunch of models milling around. Honestly, though, I was just happy that it had only lasted one night. I didn’t want to miss the show, but I REALLY didn’t want to miss my flight home.

This time around, Ital leaves Magic Touch behind and teams up with fellow 100% Silk-er Aurora Halal to unleash their luxury diamond life grooves at EKKO, Utrecht during Le Guess Who? May Day on 18 May.