–It turned out that I bought tickets to the wrong show, so we’re going on a little trip.
Almost no downtime. More of a drive-down-there, see-the-band, and-drive-back-the-next-day kind of thing.
Cool, you said. Your eyes twinkled that way they do. I felt warm.
The drive down was easy, and I talked about a lot of things that already happened, but you were such a good listener. We drove through my temporal neighborhood–an apartment complex inhabited for all of five months. We bought a lot of road snacks. Listened to a lot of streaming music chosen by algorithms designed to analyze the kind of Likes we thumbed-up. It was perfect.
After checking into the hotel (not bad at all!), we walked to the venue. A giant bouncer raised his eyebrows when asking for your I.D., to my delight. I thought it was great that he thought you weren’t old enough to drink. “My man,” he said, handing back your card, “I’m only looking out for you. You guys have a great night.”
The stage was indie-small, and the band was studio-perfect, but it was the light display behind Paul Banks that really did me in. Images and video overlapped and layered in time, creating transitions that were the brainchild of an arthouse college student. Daniel Kessler’s fingers sped across vintage frets, and Sam Fogarino somehow pulsed percussively with cosmic energy. The sound bled for us.
We drank a few craft beers and I even ventured a few dance steps your way. Eyes twinking (always), you swayed with me. It was another beginning .
We took the long way home, and drove winding backcountry coal roads. You had never seen them or driven them, and since we might never again, the twisting was worth it. Three days total. That’s all the further we were from a new world.