Tuesday, September 02, 2003

Bumbershoot, Day Four: Reckoning

Our plan was to arrive by 4. Stupid us.

When we arrived just shy of 3:30, all the wristbands at every wristband station were gone. Nothing to see, move along. Just all the other undeserving, stroller-pushing, patchouli-stinking hippie assholes with pink wristbands walking hand in hand through the mobscene of the last day of Bumbershoot.

Angry and desperate, I took out a memo pad and pen and wrote "WILL PAY FOR TWO REM WRISTBANDS" and strapped it to my backpack. I decided that would be the best way to get some considering we don't like to annoy people much. Then we got in line for the Long Winters. Even if I couldn't see R.E.M. and Wilco, I was going to see at least one good goddamn show, goddammit.

We were an hour early for that, and good thing. We caught the very end of United State of Electronica's set, which was porbably for the best, as it looked very annoying. One vocalist used a vocoder and the other two just yelled. They had two go-go dancers. It looked danceably dorktastic and I was so not in the mood. Once they left and their devoted dorktastic fans stopped cheering and began filtering out, we grabbed a spot on the barrier.

Then a group of teenage girls grabbed the spot right behind us, including the area just shy of MY ASS and sometimes my feet--I tend to stand on tip-toe sometimes and move my feet a lot so they stretch and hurt less--and proceeded to have a long conversation with lots of "likes" and "whatevers" that drove me to a semi-murderous rage. I think I could never be a parent for many reasons including my hatred of teenagers. Perhaps this is an early-20s phase and I'll grow out of it, but it wasn't going anywhere last night.

Everyone in the Long Winters had pink wristbands, as far as I could see. But they rocked me anyway, and they got me out of the funk, at least temporarily. Someone requested a Harvey Danger song once--some of the members were also members of that band--and they said they didn't have the chops. Hah.

Just as we were leaving, a girl offered me her wristband. It was only one, but she didn't want anything for it. I graciously accepted. Then we set out to find one for Kevin.

First we parked ourselves by the exit, hoping to nab wristband-wearers who were leaving. No such luck. Besides, everyone else had the same idea.

Then we just wandered aimlessly, waiting for the sign to work. Heh.

Then we just stood by the beginning of the meatpacking plant--I mean, stadium--entrance with all the other desperate people yelling for anyone to give up wristbands in exhange for favors, cash, or whatever. By about 6:45, I had pretty well given up. All the suckers seemed sucked. Then I spotted someone I knew from journalism classes and told Kevin I was going to give her my wristband. So I did and talked to her for a bit. She was very grateful. One of her friends was also still looking, but it was something, right? Right. Karma points for me? Maybe.

Kevin thought I was crazy for not just going myself since I did have a wristband, but I couldn't have. I would've felt guilty. I wouldn't have enjoyed it as much. I needed him to come with me.

Then I talked to my sister, who told me about an asshole on the bus who decided not to use his wristband for the show, but was keeping it as a memento. He didn't realize they were such a commodity, ha ha! You fucker.

Kevin had also reminded me that we'd seen a whole weekend of good shit, and maybe some of these people could only come today. My former classmate was one of them.

But still. We missed seeing two bands we both really like for a mere $12 ticket. That's fucking cruel. I thought I was gonna cry.

At the bus stop, three people were walking back to the entrance, all with wristbands. One of them started laughing meanly. Her companion told her it wasn't nice to laugh. I wasn't sure if she was laughing at people without wristbands or at the EMP or what, but I was feeling very snippy and shouted, "No, it's not!" Then we could hear Wilco starting. They were playing "Box Full of Letters." I love that song! I wasn't seeing them play it! They didn't even play anything from that album when I saw them last year!

Oh. I am such a spoiled brat. But goddamn. It sucked!

So we finally checked out the place on 3rd and Pine that proclaims itself to serve the world's greatest falafel. It was pretty all right, but since the farthest away I've ever had falafel was San Francisco, I'm not sure I'm qualified to judge. And I think I've had better.

At home, we played with the cat and watched Mumford and fooled around when no one else was looking.

I woke up today with a song from Murmur stuck in my head and some major regrets. I guess I wouldn't have gone earlier anyway, though.

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