Commencedashbirthday
Permission to recount yesterday in its entirety? Permission denied? Hmm. Sorry, I guess I will have to risk court marshal on this one.
My sister’s commencement exercises, my birthday, and the Dashboard Confessional concert all happened to fall on the same day. In the morning, I dragged my sorry carcass out of bed and ran off to the gym to squeeze in a quick workout. Running down the stairs back to the car, I noticed I had shaved five (5!) minutes off of my usual hour and forty-five regimen. I sarcastically congratulated myself with an “Oh yay me” as I put some rubber down on the road.
“You have to unlock the computer, oh and Dan called,” Katy said, holding the door open as I dove for home. Safe. I ran up stairs, down stairs, (much like my move-out saga, a story which I still must share), and all around the house. Grab tickets, pack wallet, snag running shoes, cinch tie, snap pictures … I was hungry. Current record for preparing and consuming one full bowl of oatmeal (with sugar): 8 minutes. That’s efficiency, friends. Then we were on the road, bumping along for the arena. “Did you remember earplugs?” Oh, shatty. “No.” Stupid. Arrived on time at the arena, careened over to the hardware store, purchased ear protection. Scampered around the arena, found appropriate seating, planted our bottoms accordingly. I excused myself almost immediately, “Gotta run and figure out who can drive.” The cell phone signal was so bad, that my personal communication device became nothing more than a glorified address book slash paperweight. Jump the wall (is that security yelling behind me?), run to the campus center, dial 8 and then the number. “Nope, can’t drive,” said Dan in response for my request. A couple of more calls and the rides were lined up. Whew.
I zipped back to the arena in time for the commencement of … commencement. We cheered as Katy’s named was called, and suddenly the ceremony was over. We snapped a couple of pictures, and I went to change in the car. Things were going smoothly, I had my concert clothing on, and we grabbed a couple of more Kodak moments. I thought things would all work out: “I’ll just grab my wallet from the car, and then wait for my ride to come by.” We had decided to get all six of us to the concert in John’s car, which would have worked quite well if my wallet had not been lost. Oh what the crap, I just had it. John, Steve, SoftBreeze (Matt’s roommate who is, coincidentally, named Matt), Erin, and Dan were on their way, and I had no idea where my wallet was. Suddenly, the cell phone rang.
“Hi. Is this Alex Micek?”
“Yes, you wouldn’t by chance happen to have my wallet would you?”
Somebody found my wallet, and they were going to drive back and return it to me. Moments later, John pulled up, ready for me to hop in so we could be on our way. Any attempts to explain my current situation to the car full of people were thoroughly confounded by my inability to form coherent sentences. “Happy Birthday!” said Erin, rolling down the window to hand me a neon green envelope. There was a great gift taped to it: a tube of vanilla lip smackers. “My favorite! Thanks for remembering!” I exclaimed, as I opened it up to get a smell. Mmm, vanilla goodness.
Moments later, a red Accord coupe rolled across the parking lot. Seeing it approach elicited the greatest feeling of relief I have felt in a long time.
Once I finally walked onto the Target Center floor, I realized I finally had nothing left to worry about. We had made it, and made it on time. My muscles immediately began to relax, which was a good thing because I got pounded during the moshing. The whole idea of mosh’age immediately struck me as completely absurd, so I moved with our group away from the perimeter of the pit. Dan made an outstanding shield, solidly decking anybody who flew by. Slowly, the pit drifted away from us, and by the time Thrice was done playing, everyone was tired. The moshing had concluded for the evening. Later on, we did hoist and throw a couple of people up for crowd surfing, which worked poorly to moderately well - the crowd was just barely dense enough. Oh yeah, there was music playing, too. Dashboard’s performance was unreal-diculously fantastic. Audience participation was massive, and we sang the lyrics like there was nothing else in the world except the band, the crowd, and the stage. By the time the last chords of “Hands Down” echoed through the venue, I felt physically drained and emotionally exhausted: clean and free.
“Oreo cream pie!” shouted Dan with an exuberance none of us could mess with. So, we packed in and drove off to Baker’s Square. We ate, and we ate well. Erin got the last piece of Oreo cream pie in the establishment. The irony of this event did not fail to strike Dan, who became slightly disgruntled upon the realization that he would have to order a different flavor. I certainly can not blame him. As a surprise gift (a surprise to both of us, I think), Steve paid for my pie. What a great group!
I returned in the evening with Katy’s commencement celebrated, my wallet intact, my birthday enjoyed, and the concert heard. I hope summer in general is a tiny bit less stressful than this.