2004-05-18 - 12:20 p.m.

Um, so anyway...

The Roommate and I were just kind of sitting around on Saturday night with not much to do, and around 10:00, which is never a good position to be in on a Saturday night--way too early to go to bed, but pretty much too late to get something started.

I walked down to Union to get some beer, and did a double take when I saw two dudes I always see at shows standing outside, talking. I approached them and found out that two good bands had yet to play, so I snagged the Roommate and we went to the P.A. to watch the Anchormen and the Operators for just five bucks. I ended up talking a lot to various people, which I usually don�t do, and I went home with the entire available Anchormen CD collection (for just $10) and a free comp CD.

That was fun.

On Sunday, we woke up with brand new hangovers which weren�t so bad, and the Roommate�s brother Jimmy picked us up and drove us to Rhode Island. We stopped at a Dunkie�s to get some Schillings, and I talked a bunch to Jimmy on the way up. He�s a good kid with a good sense of humor and I always enjoy talking to him. He explained how those cars with stick shifts work, which I�ve always been curious about.

We hit a nice bar downtown (they actually call it downcity there for whatever reason), and there the drinking began. The walls were all old wood, and it was covered in various police patches. After a few, we headed to a nice restaurant where I got another cheeseburger, and then we decided to go back to the first bar for a quick Bud before the show began, but it was too crowded so we decided to try our luck.

We found another one not too far from the first, but it looked a little creepy--the windows were tinted black and we couldn�t see inside. I got sent in as a scout, and it seemed fine to me--there was an older guy and an older lady talking and the place didn�t seem too sketch, so I waved everyone in. Within seconds of actually being in the place, however, I came to the realization that it was a gay bar. Which was fine--especially funny was when two older guys started hitting on Jimmy--when they discovered he was a mail carrier, they took a special interest in all details related to his male sack.

After a few, we headed to the show. It was at the Strand, a very beautiful and very old theater that I guess most closely resembles the Orpheum, but much prettier. We all got t-shirts (I�m gonna sit on mine for a few years) and drank incredibly cheap beers considering it was a concert ($4.00 for a 16 oz plastic Bud--compare that to $7 or even $8 at the Roxy) and kinda sat around in the lobby, drinking and talking and having a good time.

Now I have mixed feelings about the Strokes--on one hand, they write brilliant short pop songs that are filled with hooks, something I prize in a band. On the other hand, they basically just rip off other older bands (like Television and the Modern Lovers), they rely way too heavily on image, and they have legions of idiot fans who aren�t really there for the music--which are qualities I abhor in a band. My final evaluation is generally that if people are going to listen to nothing but radio-friendly pop, it might as well be a good band like the Strokes, and that it�s okay to like their songs because, when all else is said and done, they really are good songs.

When it comes to seeing bands, I actually usually have a much better time when I don�t really care too much about the band I�m seeing. If it was something like Robyn Hitchcock or Sebadoh, I�d get there way early to get a good place to stand, wouldn�t get a beer or a smoke for fear of losing my place, and I�d basically be freaking out the whole time about losing my place and about the gigantic dude that always seems to be standing in front of me, who moves just slightly every time I get in a good position to see past him.

Strokes? Who cares--just sit back and enjoy it. Miss most of the opening band, go get a beer, go have a smoke--it doesn�t matter. I had actually found us a pretty good spot when they started playing anyway--right by the bar which jutted out into the crowd--enough room for the three of us without stepping on anyone�s toes, and there was no way we could have gotten any closer because the crowd was so tight.

And the crowd was so tight. Remember, this is Rhode Island, folks. They went absolutely hysterical after every song--I�ve never seen people so whipped up--really weird for me coming from a city where crowds refuse to clap along with a song upon request (and I�m proud of that particular reluctance). As I said, there was no way anyone could have pushed past me to get closer, but people did try. It was kind of annoying--the people were kind of amateurs at going to shows if you can say that--lots of shoving as opposed to the hand from behind, placed gently on the left shoulder, that says buddy, if you can move to your right so I could get by that�d be awesome. Weird. I guess there was even crowd surfing later on, which you�d never ever ever see in Boston.

This girl, leading two others, decked out in their Strokes attire, shoved past me, trying to get a better spot. She was very rude about it, and didn�t even apologize at the collision--not even a nod. A minute later, when she realized there was nowhere for her to go, she shoved past me again, and I was quite annoyed at this. Now I want to be quite clear about this--I wasn�t trying to be a jerk here. As she passed, I kind of nudged back a little--I basically just leaned lightly into her. The intent was that maybe she�d think hey, it doesn�t feel good to get shoved, and I just did that twice to that guy. Maybe I should chill a little, and stop trying to take people out.

My gesture had the opposite effect. She wanted to get into an argument about it. I leaned over and calmly explained that she could have been a little more polite about passing me, and she told me her friend was having asthma problems and threw a few F-bombs at me and walked away.

I felt kind of like a dick after that, but I shrugged it off and turned my attention back to the show.

When I went to get another beer, it turned out that the girl was actually the bartender and she decided to lay into me again--that the girl was having a medical emergency and I�m a fucking piece of shit and so on. I didn�t defend myself at all because I just felt horrible about it. I mean, I felt like the biggest dick in the world after that and tried to go outside and get some fresh air but there was no readmittance and so I just kinda hung out in the lobby trying to get my shit together. Jimmy actually came up and I explained what happened and he cheered me up, but I still felt like a complete asshole and even worse, I�m sitting out in the lobby with my girlfriend�s brother who�se consoling me, so I felt like a big pussy on top of that.

Now in retrospect, I don�t really feel like a jerk anymore. People were pushing me all night. The bartender girl was dressed like a concertgoer and 1) didn�t have a flashlight and 2) did not have a clearly marked STAFF t-shirt, so there was no way for me to know. She probably shouldn�t have been the person to go out into the crowd anyway. Not to mention the fact that I�m an asthmatic myself and that�s kind of irrelevant, but at the same time I�m obviously not going to try to obstruct someone helping someone else out for any reason whatsoever. I�d also like to call in to question her need to take two minutes out to tell me what a jerk I am while she�s trying to get her friend to safety. You�d think there�d be more of a sense of urgency on her part.

I�m a good person--I pride myself on it, and I�m almost never aggressive. Also, if I haven�t been to over 100 shows in my life, big and small, all types of bands, all types of venues, I�m pretty damn close to that mark. I made an action which I, with all of my experience in these types of situations, deemed to be appropriate. There was a misunderstanding, and I would have apologized had I been given the opportunity. While I�m not going to be a queen about it and say that the experience ruined my night, it certainly had a quite measurable negative impact on it.

I�m a paying customer at a $25 show. I�m a guest at the venue until the show is over, and unless I�m acting drunk and disorderly, which will never happen in a billion years anyway, I don�t need to be called an asshole and sworn at by a member of the staff--that�s inappropriate and unprofessional.

So that�s over with. The show�s winding down and I got a beer at the bar for last call. The funny thing is, 20 minutes later, all these kids are at the bar trying to order beers. Amateurs. I gave the bottom half of the one I was drinking, still cold, mind you, to a cute girl and we went back to Jimmy�s place, stopping first to eat a greasy cheeseburger from that awesome burger trailer at Kennedy Plaza.

Jimmy really is a great guy. He insisted that he�d get my back. Not just, mind you, because I�m his sister�s boyfriend, which he would do anyway, but because I�m a good guy. He insisted this, and made sure I was well aware that it was the highest compliment he could ever bestow.

When we got home he gave me a beer I didn�t need but accepted gratefully and drank deeply from. We sat out in his yard and smoked butts and then went in and watched South Park on DVD.

The Roommate and I had Monday off and we walked around Providence doing Providence-y things. We headed back to Boston around 6:00 and that was the end of it.

It was a great weekend. The only thing was that we missed the first gay marriages in Massachusetts, and the Roommate really wanted to be in Cambridge at midnight to cheer them on and to show our support, but you really can�t have everything I guess.

Another great weekend in what I just last night realized is turning out to be a pretty great year.