The tickets sold easily enough - there were hopeful concertgoers standing outside the club willing to pay well more than face value. The two guys who bought my pair looked visibly startled when I told them I never sell accidental extras for more than what I paid.

One - a guy about my age who traveled from Cambridge - bought me a vodka cran to say thank you. See? Concert karma can pay off.

Seeing State Radio on stage prompted a disjointed best/worst of times flashback. I thought of swaying to "Open Up" performed in my college sports center at the same time I thought of last July's Boston debacle, ducking for fear that the belligerent guys behind me were going to throw that handle of vodka into the crowd. New band, yes, but let's face it, the sound is vintage Dispatch. Which worked in my favor as I fell into the familiar grove of long-listened melodies.

The set change was uncomfortably long, but I used it to creep to the fifth row, where I waited it out with other eager fans, most of whom were underage. The girl directly in front of me kept flipping long, frizzy hair into my face. The guy to my left repeatedly flashed leery, drunken grins in my direction.

I text-messaged Beth, who was providing running commentary of the Sox game.

Boston lost. I just couldn't catch a break.

When the houselights finally dimmed and the band took the stage, a multitude of X-marked hands waved above our heads. I too found myself cheering as Garrett sauntered to his spot and surveyed the raucous crowd.

With a saucy grin on his face, he once again reminded me of the inherent contradiction of the his parts. A scrawny white guy rocking the trucker hat - backwards - long after it's gone out of style, convinced that he could have anyone in the crowd he wanted. And yet I still found myself thinking of how incredibly sexy the entire package was.

I swayed, I danced as much as I could in my sardine confinements before I decided to step back and let the kiddies play. The day - 11 hours of work, miles put on the car, no time for food - coupled with the demands of the day to come had finally knocked me down. The music was loose and easy, but I hadn't the energy to differentiate between the songs.

So after a certain point during the seemingly continuous flow, I made my way to the door.

One of those days, I told myself. I just wished everything hadn't decided to line up on this one.

It felt good to drive home in silence.