When Method Man's manager Seven arrives at Barcelona's Club Razzmatazz, my girl Hollywood and I are swallowed up in the entourage and swept into the club, where Meth and Redman are performing to a packed house.
We watch the show from onstage and get a full view of their crazed Spanish fans, from the ground floor to the second floor ceiling, screaming and welcoming the dynamic duo's stage dives, choreographed interludes, and water bottle baths. Not far from me, 2010 Latin Grammy winner for Song of the Year, Mala Rodriguez, is moving it like a video vixen in the tightest yellow and blue striped dress ever, surrounded by her own all-dude entourage.
After the show, Hollywood and I enter the dressing room just as Redman's coming out of the bathroom. "That was dope. I needed that," he says of the show. Method Man, normally quiet, starts in on DJ Allah Mathematics, who, it seems, has gotten pink eye. "I seen that with my daughter," Meth says, "You put your face on the pillow, didn't you? It be feces on hotel pillows." I look up from my Blackberry. "Come on, son! I'm never going to sleep in a hotel again, you know that right?" He just laughs. "You heard about the bed bugs in New York?"
Above: Method Man Feels the Armor in Barcelona.