Mr. Alphabet

I'm stepping between cracks on the sidewalk, not giving black cats opportunity to cross my path and fully intend to cross the street entirely should I see a ladder propped against a wall ahead of me.

I'm supposed to see Jason Mraz and his band of merry musical troubadors this evening, and I'm not taking any chances. The Streak will not be reinstanted. Nosiree.

Having seen Jason or Jason/Band three times - well, more like two and a quarter* - I feel pretty confident that I won't stumble into some form of obstacle that will stop me from attending the show in Montreal. But relaxing too much, it feels, would serve as a preventative measure.

I went through what could have been 10-12 shows during early, mid and late 2003 without actually hearing Jason perform live. There was illness. There were a couple of ticket snafus. There was the annoying realization that I was in one place, and Jason was performing precisely where I had just been. And, later, vice versa.

The night before I finally caught my first show (Calvin Theatre, Northampton, 10.9.03, for those curious or otherwise remember dates to silly things like I do), I fell on a wet floor and was scared to try standing up, for fear that I had hurt myself.

Was I worried about the possibility of a cast or crutch? No. I was pissed off because I could be missing a show. Again.

This time, I lack the giddiness about going. I'm not sure if it's that I haven't fully realized I'll be attending a show or the fear that he'll just continue playing tracks off "Mr. A-Z." I know I'll have a good time once I get there...I'm just not quite at the excited stage yet.

I know. Uncharacteristic of me. C'est la vie.

So. Late this afternoon, I pick up my concert-going cronies (including B, who has never before seen The Jason live) and head to the border.

If I get stopped at customs, I blame him.

*The Today Show can't fully count as a performance. Hence the quarter.