Friday night was Joe's big BDP Leaving Party which requires its own little story. As a precursor, let's just say that around 9pm, Joe listed to the right about 15 degrees and remained there all night, I got to use the phrase "Did I give you permission to touch me there? No? Then why are you?" repeatedly and Marcus clocked me in the jaw rather accidentally but effectively enough that my neck still hurts.
Saturday was a very slow day.
But this morning I woke to the semi-panicked thought that I'm leaving for Rome in 4 days. Fine enough. Exciting enough. Except for a few small details. 1- I need to do wash all the summer clothes after the great flood and 2- I'm supposed to put in a planning application on Friday and I won't be here for it. Which means I will be working early and late until the night I leave for Rome to prepare this planning application for our client, the third one I've done for him on the same damn site. Every time I finish, he gets another idea...
So I dragged myself out of bed, made some strong coffee and played on the Internet until I decided I needed to figure out what to take with me to Rome. Nothing like meeting a looming deadline head on. Then Flatmate Suzie made lunch, and I decided to go into town and find shoes to wear with my new birthday dress that I'm going to debut in Rome, mostly because I have no other obvious chance to wear it at the moment. I will be a very well dressed bag lady when I get fired from this job.
I managed to find the strappy sandals I'd hoped to find, and they were even below the price I'd hoped to pay for them, when Rob sent me a text to see if I wanted to join the boys for dinner. Since I'd already promised FS my stolen chicken recipe/experiment, I said I'd drop by for a quick drink before heading home. Suze went home and I went to CafeBarDeli. And that's where the whole point of the story comes into play.
I was there about an hour, catching up with the boys, reviewing Joe's going away bash, and just generally chatting, as you do on a Sunday afternoon, when I noticed the concert tickets on the table next to me. I was trying to very slyly read them (as if I could do such a thing) when the guy who owned them noticed me. Not a difficult thing to do, granted, but he reacted well, so I asked who he was going to see.
Stranger: The Editors.
Me: Oooo.... very nice.
The Boys: Who?
So I spent the next 15 minutes giving the boys hell for not knowing current music. I chatted with the Stranger for a bit and then went back to the boys. No big deal. Then Bunny said the best thing ever:
B- Wait, they're a group? I thought it was a play.
Me- No, that's The Producers.
We all laughed and I replayed it for the Stranger who also laughed. I've got to teach the boys about new music. Coffees were ordered and the Stranger and his dinner companion paid their bill. As they got up to leave, this conversation ensued:
Me - Have a great night. Rush the stage for me.
Stranger - Thanks very much. Here's two free tickets, have a great time yourself.
And then he walked out the door, leaving his tickets on my table.
Me - Did that just happen?!
Yep... And he left his business card with mobile number.
Turns out he works for a local radio station and had free tickets, so he gave them to me knowing he could still get himself into the show. I'm still speechless. I was laughing and shaking my head and just generally shaking as I tried to digest it. I mean, that sort of thing happens to Suzie, not me. I have parking space karma. I have 'left turn into oncoming traffic on a busy street' karma. I do not have rock-n-roll karma. But it would appear, tonight, I have borrowed hers. So I hauled ass out of CafeBarDeli, told Suzie we were going to a gig instead of having beer marinated chicken and grabbed a cab home to get showered in time for the show.
We made it with plenty of time, our seats were really quite good and the venue was amazing. I've never been to the Olympia before; it's an old theatre with ornately carved boxes and columns and ceiling details that now hosts some amazing rock/indy/alternative bands. It seats about 1000 people so it's quite an intimate venue. Tonight it starred the Editors. And they were good. Even when they messed up, they were good. The lead singer started to play a song on the piano and then turned to the drummer saying "hang on..." Some confusion I'm unclear on because I do not play the drums and therefore have very limited knowledge of drum riffs... so Lead Singer turned to the crowd and asked "Dublin, how you doing?" which of course generated screams. Then he turned back to the drummer and asked "Editors, how you doing?" to which the Drummer replied "Not good". A few seconds later, they were on there way. I thought it was quite deftly handled. Suzie liked them, which is quite an accomplishment on my part, because our musical tastes are pretty much polar opposites. We've now found a third band we can listen to in the house. Except that neither of us actually owns an Editor CD. Must rectify that soon.
After the gig, we stopped into Thomas Reed's Pub for a night cap and a little open mic night action. Wow. Drums, guitar, harmonica, mandolin and a one hot singer; the evening had promise. I can only describe the outcome as this: Wedding Band in deepest Montana. When then the banjo came out, I was properly in Honky Tonk Hell. Contrast that with a gig FS described as "competitive t-shirt wearing" and you have a very good idea of how my night was.
Best dinner I never made.
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