It was the beginning of a very long night. Stuck alone with Steve, who had reached a kind of zoned-out, off-in-another-world stage of this trip, I’d nod off and every time I woke up he’d be staring intently at me and I’d go, “Fuck off, Steve. Stop staring.” He was still spaced out the next morning. Much to our relief he was okay to play, but he didn’t speak—not a word for three days—which was quite weird. We’d be in the bus and you’d look and Steve would be staring at you. Then the next time you looked he’d be staring at Barney and it would be Barney’s turn to feel uncomfortable. Thank God
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