OK, so I was driving home from basketball last night (we lost, 60-48) and 102.1 was broadcasting live from the Weezer/Angels and Airwaves/Tokyo Police Club show. The DJ was telling a story about this 19-year-old kid who had been buying beer for his underage buddies and was caught and removed by security. He was arguing all the way out and spied a couple of cops outside the venue who he started pleading his case to. He apparently got so hysterical that he started crying and wound up being led away in cuffs. Call me a jerk, but that story makes me laugh!
So I thought I would start telling some awesome concert stories that I witnessed or was part of.
Probably my favourite one is back on October 5, 2003. Five Iron Frenzy was on their “Winners Never Quit” farewell tour and the closest they were coming to Ontario was Grand Rapids, Michigan. I really don’t know why it took so long to decide we wanted to go, but on the morning of the show myself, my friend Justin (bass player from Token Glory), and Justin’s friend (whose name I can’t remember but will refer to hereafter as Bob) decided we wanted to go. Well, to be specific, Justin and I decided we wanted to go, and Justin told Bob about it and he invited himself, which annoyed me a lot. More on that later.
So we hopped in my Taurus and hit the road for Grand Rapids, which is 5 hours away (what are a Google Maps? I am a good for to be at distances). I was not super psyched about the long drive, because Bob was on my “Top Five People To Give The Broken Face To Should The Opportunity Arise” list at the time. I was less well-adjusted in 2003. I was also in man-love with FIF and decided that if a five hour ride with Bob was the necessary evil to get me to the show, then so be it.
As it turned out, Bob was possibly the most unnecessary evil of all time. He told us that he would take care of all the internet detectivery necessary to ensure a smooth ride to the show. Mostly, that meant getting directions. He jumped into the car with the directions in his hands and off we go. About two hours into the drive he tells us that he wasn’t able to find directions to the club (FAIL!) but he WAS able to get directions to the Town Centre, which was some sort of information kiosk in Grand Rapids that should surely have what we were looking for. Super.
So we get to the border and it is further determined that Bob has failed to bring anything resembling a passport or birth certificate along. After a search by customs it is agreed to let us through on his driver’s license. So we go the rest of the way and find our way into Grand Rapids about 45 minutes before showtime a-twitter with anticipation.
That is, until we discovered that Bob’s directions weren’t to the Town Centre: they were to the centre of the town (EPIC Fail!). Our journey ended abruptly in the parking lot of a random convenience store in an extremely Mexican part of town. Justin gassed the car up as I tried to explain to passerby in my meager Spanish what we were after; no dice. We eventually managed to get directions to the downtown, from which we hoped to navigate our way to the show.
After hitting up bar after bar and trying to find concert listings in the local indies, we were 15 minutes late for the show and still had no idea where to go. As we were driving past a Taco Bell I thought to myself “You know what? Punk rock kids go to Taco Bell” and pulled in.
The Bell was deserted except for the staff and a preppie woman and two men in their late twenties sitting in a corner booth. With nothing to lose, I approached the booth and asked if they had ever heard of Five Iron Frenzy (which had been getting anything from a “no” to a smirk in all previous attempts). Surprisingly, they said yes! I asked if they knew where they were playing, and they said yes! I asked for directions, and they didn’t know how to get there – but they took us to their office and let us in to scour the internets. Turns out they were at Taco Bell getting food for the one guy’s wife who had just had a baby. Meeting those guys was almost enough to make up for Bob’s trip on the monoFAIL. We started driving, and 20 minutes later we were in the parking lot of a huge church.
There we saw a trio of teenage girls who informed us that the show was sold out. Justin wanted to drive home, as he had had enough trouble for today. But I was all like “forget that noise” and we walked into the church where there was still a lineup of 30-40 ticketholders waiting to get in. I went to the front of the line and talked with the ladies working the ticket tables, one of whom went inside to talk to security after I explained that we drove five hours from Canada. We then walked up and down, flashing our passports (or licenses) for sympathy and asking for extra tickets. Amazingly, a youth pastor who had bought a group package had exactly three extra tickets with him that kids had bought but didn’t show up for…and he gave them to us. Another example of providence shining on us, despite Bob being the captain of the FAILboat.
The show itself was amazing: we got to meet Dennis, the trombone player, and buy the limited edition of The End Is Near that was only available on that tour (it was later released with a live disc of the band’s final show as The End Is Here, but with slightly different packaging). The crowd was great, the sound was great, and bob slept the whole way home so I didn’t have to talk to him. Actually, Bob and Justin slept the whole way home, breaking one of the cardinal rules of concert-going: you never fall asleep on the way home unless the driver says it’s OK. Bob also never paid me for gas or the dinner I bought him and thus owes me $50. At prime plus 1 for 5 years, he owes me $73.47.
So I thought I would start telling some awesome concert stories that I witnessed or was part of.
Probably my favourite one is back on October 5, 2003. Five Iron Frenzy was on their “Winners Never Quit” farewell tour and the closest they were coming to Ontario was Grand Rapids, Michigan. I really don’t know why it took so long to decide we wanted to go, but on the morning of the show myself, my friend Justin (bass player from Token Glory), and Justin’s friend (whose name I can’t remember but will refer to hereafter as Bob) decided we wanted to go. Well, to be specific, Justin and I decided we wanted to go, and Justin told Bob about it and he invited himself, which annoyed me a lot. More on that later.
So we hopped in my Taurus and hit the road for Grand Rapids, which is 5 hours away (what are a Google Maps? I am a good for to be at distances). I was not super psyched about the long drive, because Bob was on my “Top Five People To Give The Broken Face To Should The Opportunity Arise” list at the time. I was less well-adjusted in 2003. I was also in man-love with FIF and decided that if a five hour ride with Bob was the necessary evil to get me to the show, then so be it.
As it turned out, Bob was possibly the most unnecessary evil of all time. He told us that he would take care of all the internet detectivery necessary to ensure a smooth ride to the show. Mostly, that meant getting directions. He jumped into the car with the directions in his hands and off we go. About two hours into the drive he tells us that he wasn’t able to find directions to the club (FAIL!) but he WAS able to get directions to the Town Centre, which was some sort of information kiosk in Grand Rapids that should surely have what we were looking for. Super.
So we get to the border and it is further determined that Bob has failed to bring anything resembling a passport or birth certificate along. After a search by customs it is agreed to let us through on his driver’s license. So we go the rest of the way and find our way into Grand Rapids about 45 minutes before showtime a-twitter with anticipation.
That is, until we discovered that Bob’s directions weren’t to the Town Centre: they were to the centre of the town (EPIC Fail!). Our journey ended abruptly in the parking lot of a random convenience store in an extremely Mexican part of town. Justin gassed the car up as I tried to explain to passerby in my meager Spanish what we were after; no dice. We eventually managed to get directions to the downtown, from which we hoped to navigate our way to the show.
After hitting up bar after bar and trying to find concert listings in the local indies, we were 15 minutes late for the show and still had no idea where to go. As we were driving past a Taco Bell I thought to myself “You know what? Punk rock kids go to Taco Bell” and pulled in.
The Bell was deserted except for the staff and a preppie woman and two men in their late twenties sitting in a corner booth. With nothing to lose, I approached the booth and asked if they had ever heard of Five Iron Frenzy (which had been getting anything from a “no” to a smirk in all previous attempts). Surprisingly, they said yes! I asked if they knew where they were playing, and they said yes! I asked for directions, and they didn’t know how to get there – but they took us to their office and let us in to scour the internets. Turns out they were at Taco Bell getting food for the one guy’s wife who had just had a baby. Meeting those guys was almost enough to make up for Bob’s trip on the monoFAIL. We started driving, and 20 minutes later we were in the parking lot of a huge church.
There we saw a trio of teenage girls who informed us that the show was sold out. Justin wanted to drive home, as he had had enough trouble for today. But I was all like “forget that noise” and we walked into the church where there was still a lineup of 30-40 ticketholders waiting to get in. I went to the front of the line and talked with the ladies working the ticket tables, one of whom went inside to talk to security after I explained that we drove five hours from Canada. We then walked up and down, flashing our passports (or licenses) for sympathy and asking for extra tickets. Amazingly, a youth pastor who had bought a group package had exactly three extra tickets with him that kids had bought but didn’t show up for…and he gave them to us. Another example of providence shining on us, despite Bob being the captain of the FAILboat.
The show itself was amazing: we got to meet Dennis, the trombone player, and buy the limited edition of The End Is Near that was only available on that tour (it was later released with a live disc of the band’s final show as The End Is Here, but with slightly different packaging). The crowd was great, the sound was great, and bob slept the whole way home so I didn’t have to talk to him. Actually, Bob and Justin slept the whole way home, breaking one of the cardinal rules of concert-going: you never fall asleep on the way home unless the driver says it’s OK. Bob also never paid me for gas or the dinner I bought him and thus owes me $50. At prime plus 1 for 5 years, he owes me $73.47.
