It was a long, hard day, milling around the Fangoria convention in Secaucus, but getting this photo (by mail, several weeks later) made it all worth while. Spike was amazing; all wiry musculature, porcelain veneers and recovery speak (sans the British accent) — and he kept referring to me as ‘brother’, which was awesome.
Not to toot our own horns, but we were among the coolest dudes in the long line wrapped around the hallway of the Hyatt’s mezzanine level — certainly we were among the slimmest. When Brittany proposed an action shot, James was totally on board, commanding me to grab his neck “for real” and “really squeeze”. Though James was DJing a show later that afternoon at a club that I believe was called the Crazy Donkey, we cut our trip short; my car battery was dead and, after multiple jump starts, we really just wanted to get back to Brooklyn and have a well deserved drink. Golden memories…
