Tour Log - Friday

The Fall Concert Season, as its participants (i.e. a number of my group of friends) refer to it, has started to blur together.

The shows stand out, of course - moments, songs, banter, misadventures and the like - but it's the places that start to morph into each other. It feels like we're on tour. Is this Montreal or Boston? Did that happen in Manchester or Worcester?

Thank goodness for ticket stubs.

Thursday was marked by driving, getting lost, directing others who have gotten lost somewhere else and a whole lot of conversation. As everyone blinked at the sudden illumination in the bar as they prepared to close down, and as I realized Michelle and I needed to get back to Beverly before the other part of our "Crash at Casa de Grandma" group, I felt disappointed because I didn't want to leave yet. I was having an amazing time AND I'd heard a cover of "Miss Misery." Hello. Glorious...

(Side note: My grandmother owns. And Richardson's mini golf course is open through October. Just sayin.)

Michelle and I bypassed the floor at the Paradise last night and went directly for the first-tier balcony area. And, as it turned out, so did everyone else in the FCS gang. A laughing series of meetups followed as we each took our places on cushioned benches and patted ourselves on the back for all seeking out the best spot from which to take in the show. I jokingly thought of it as our own sort of VIP (V's Important People) section - only no one else in the crowd would know the cast of characters it occupied. We resolved to meet up, same time, same place for the remainder of the shows we're attending.

I love Boston and I love the musicians and concertgoing friends I've come to include among my favorites. I can walk into a venue with one friend and run into two others standing near the line. Another already greeted us from her place several spots ahead of us. Two others walked in and grinned upon seeing me leaning over to them from the balcony, and one I hadn't seen in at least a year returned from the bar to take a spot right by me that she had independently sought out.

My parents (most often my father) often roll their eyes or sigh when they hear I'm going to another show. "You've already seen him a lot, why go see him again? You're going to hear the same things you've already heard."

As our group sang along and waved our arms (eliciting a grin from the stage) to an impromptu Warrant cover, I looked to either side of me at the grinning, laughing faces of people I've come to meet through this mutual love of music. Ryan Montbleau lyrics came to mind.

"What is it about this way that's ordinary / Is it the stretch of time that passes or the way my friends all glow with light? / Open like a church on Sunday / The day's arms stretched out open wide."

This was precisely why I make the effort. But it's next to impossible to put that scene, that feeling of happiness and friendship into a phrase with which I'll be satisfied.

So I went back to singing Warrant.

"Heaven isn't too far away...closer to it every day..."

Aw, shit.