Sockfooted in the Pit

I got back earlier today from my trip downstate . Honestly, it was exactly what I needed. It'd been too long.

The highlight was yesterday. We got all dolled up (to the point where I actually want the pictures to turn out well) and drove down to Hartford CT to see My Chemical Romance. They're her favorite band and I'd have to be an idiot to turn down a ticket. We got a room at the Super 8 closest to the CT Expo Center and as we waited for our cab to bring us to downtown Hartford for dinner my friend got the shock of the month when the lead guitarist for MCR walked past us. She went over to talk to him and he seemed really cool, but maybe just not too used to people approaching him.

We had dinner at a place called CitySteam. I totally recommend it to anyone that'll be in Hartford. And since we were taking cabs everywhere, we were doing some drinking. My friend went for cosmos... I did my usual "hmm... that name sounds interesting..." tactic in choosing a drink and ended up with something called a Border Patrol-- in which the first three ingredients were Yukon Jack, tequila and Jim Beam. With a splash of juice for color. Somehow it tasted good. I'd say it brought back memories but my nights drinking Beam and tequila are a tad hazy...

Yeah, so I had 3. I was fine, though. We were just in a really good mood.

After dinner I was already cursing my stupidity in wearing a pair of Jenny's boots instead of my beat up sandals. Then again, stupidity should be painful. They looked fantastic, until I found myself hobbled like an elderly horse.

The doors opened at 6, but as we waited in line I came to a disturbing realization...

I am getting OLD. Not physically, but mentally. There were so many teenagers there that I felt like a chaperone. Not a good feeling. I'm fairly sure I have t-shirts older than those kids. I was amused by the "I'm Different Just Like Everyone Else" feeling that they all had. The only thing that's changed in the 10 years since I was 13 is there's more black makeup and less use of the words "grody" and "spaz."

We were a little confused. It seemed almost as though any guy between the ages of 16 and 30 had been barred entry-- but now that I think back, there was a conspicuous abscence of anyone aged 16-30. It was a little unnerving at first.

The show itself was unbelievable. Reggie and the Full Effect and Alkaline Trio opened. But the agony of my feet was starting to really detract from my fun. So since the whole place was general admission and it was a pretty chill crowd (despite the overwhelming stench of raging hormones and bad cologne,) I took the offending boots off and carried them wrapped up in my jacket. So there I was, sockfooted in the crowd. And never Not Once was I stepped on. So what if I looked like a total fool, I felt better. I was talking to a girl that was working at the door and she asked where my shoes were and pointed at my uber-non-sexy white athletic socks. I explained that they were killing me, and if I had to put them back on I would. She just laughed at told me to pull the hem of my jeans down to cover my feet.

MCR came on and it just was deafening in that concrete-floored open space. However, with taking my boots off I shrunk from 5'8" back to 5'5" in a crowd full of people taller than me. I was having a great time, enough to forget for a little while what was still waiting for me so impatiently back here at home. They sound amazing live, and it was a nice change from the maudlin music I've been listening to lately. The last song of their encore was "I'm Not Ok (I Promise)" and I'm absolutely not embarassed to say that even though I lost my voice I was still drowned out by the people around me.

After the show ended my friend wanted to try and meet the band out by the busses. We sat on the curb with 3 other girls (the first really NICE people we'd met all night, if you didn't count that girl at the door and the bartenders.) We waited for over an hour, but it was getting really cold and my poor sock feet were getting numb (and they were at this point more of a dingy gray color by this time.) On the bright side, we met the band's dog on the walk back to the Super 8. Well, we spoke to the guy chasing after the dog, anyway. I couldn't figure out why in the world he'd pick the tiny little jack russell up by the skin on its neck/back, but even though the dog didn't protest and it didn't hurt him...I was hoping he'd pee on the guy's shoes. We walked back to the hotel, past the adult bookstore with the creepy guys hanging around the parking lot and finally got to sit down.

Holy hell, 7:30 AM came fast, though. We got back to her place by 10, and by 12 I was on my train... by 2:30 I was asleep in my own bed. Nice.

Totally worth it.