http://mixmag.net/feature/the-secret-dj ... -cocaine/2
Paulo was both the local promoter and DJ. I’d arrived in Italy late at night from Ibiza. It was pretty much only possible to arrive late due to it taking a minimum of two flights to get anywhere off-season. Some parts of Italy are extremely bohemian, and I thought nothing of landing at 2am for a gig from 4am ’til 8am. I did start to wonder when the call-sheet said the journey from airport to gig was 90 mins. That seemed long. Paulo was ridiculously urbane, good-looking, well dressed and unusually reserved at pick-up. It was only when we got outside into the heat that I noticed he was sweating profusely and chewing constantly. There, in the bus stop lay-by, right outside the main doors, was a brand new Lamborghini Murciélago parked at an obtusely diagonal angle denoting an arrogance usually reserved for police cars. “Nice,” I thought as I walked past.