I was super excited a few weeks ago when I got the free tickets from Another Planet, er, actually my office since I beat out everyone at work for the only pair of first night passes. I think my coworkers hated me a little more because of it. Like when I said, "Oh, can't you guys change the night for the after-work pool night because I can't make it?" They were like, "Fuck you, we feel so bad for you." and "Oh, poor baby, you're going to miss pool night because you're going to see Radiohead and Beck instead." Oh, right and how could I forget this one: "Haha, you're going to get all emotional." Yeah, I would have slapped on the heavy eye-liner if I hadn't started the day with a killer eye infection.
Yeah, it's tough being me.
Although not as tough as trying to enjoy a concert. I don't think I've ever had to work this hard to listen to a band in my life - and that includes all those times I sat by the radio to win tickets.
I'm not so young anymore. And that's why I'm really in pain. You can pierce your nose to make you feel young again, but it's just not going to do the trick when you have to go to an outdoor rock festival. The truth is I'm not 18 anymore, unlike my cousin, who's only complaint was the "creeper" standing next to her asking if the band was British and who they were.
I'm really glad she didn't tell me that during the show or I would have cut him with my compost-friendly cup of Heineken Light. I was already on-edge from having to walk to the other end of the park just to get my will-call tickets. And then having to stand in line for thirty minutes, followed by more walking, then another line to get in, followed by more walking, and a line to get my ID checked, more walking, a line for light beer, more walking, a line to order my flat bread pizza with nitrate free pepperoni, and then a line to pick it up, followed by even more walking.
I missed seeing Beck. That's one artist I'd really like to see in concert. But it was either going to the other end of the park and seeing him or missing Radiohead. We all have to pick our battles. Luckily, I did get a chance to see Oaktown local, Too Short. Groovy. I have a tiny crush.
But it was definitely all about Thom Yorke and the rest of the guys from cabeza de radio. I did feel bad for them because the sound system kept breaking up. They kept playing, but none of us losers in the back could hear any of it. Then he would have to apologize for the damn thing after the massive booing and random cursing: "Fuck Meyer Sound!" Aw, poor Meyer Sound, small Berkeley company gets a largely publicized gig and they fuck up.
Still, I asked myself last night as I crawled into bed after a hot shower, and two Duane Reade PMs if I would do this again given the chance. And you know I definitely would because "you do it to yourself, you do . . . that's what really hurts."
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