I left the apartment around 8:00 this morning. The short story (which I rarely attempt to tell)--work, go somewhere else, work, go somewhere else, work (that's right--I don't do the 9-5 thing in one spot). I had about 20 minutes before I had to run an audition for the Symphony, so I run home for about 5 minutes. I grab my camera, because I know that I'll see Rachel serving beer at the Alive @ 5 thing going on tonight. I run the audition, head over to the park, look for Rachel, don't see her, start drinking beer. The music starts, I'm talking to friends, drinking more beer, and it's about 7:20 or so. One of the friends comments on a guy standing under a tree--olive/Hawaiian print shorts, olive wool sweater, funky hat, and hiking boots almost up to his knees. My first thought is, "Gee, he must be from Missoula" (Missoula is your basic tree-hugging, liberal Democratic safe haven).
I have 2 tickets to see Crosby, Stills and Nash in Missoula tonight (115 miles west of here), and the gates opened 20 minutes ago! OH, FUCK!! For the next 5 minutes, those are the only words I could muster. OH FUCK!! My only consolation--I didn't spend $50 on gas to get there and back. That makes me feel so much better. That, and the numerous beers I consumed the rest of the time in the park. Oh, yeah--Rachel wasn't pouring beer tonight.
I apologize for the concern I obviously aroused. It wasn't my intent. It was the beer. I have been chewed out by the appropriate people. By the same token, there's something heartwarming knowing that you cared! I leave you a HNT of me and two worthless tickets to what was probably the finest concert of their careers---
Oh, BTW--for any of you keeping track--today is Volcano Girl's birthday.
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