Awhile back, my most excellent blogfriend Ms. Prufrock alerted me to the fact that James, my 2nd mostest favoritest band in the whole wide world (behind U2, duh) was touring.

And was going to be in New Jersey.

My head exploded a little bit, because I am reallyreallyreally out of the loop with regard to popular culture and music and what’s going on in the world outside my window. It’s an occupational hazard, I think.

Unfortunately, or so I thought, James was appearing at The Stone Pony, which is a tiny tiny tiny TINY little room of a place down the shore. I figured there was no way I was ever going to get tickets, since my ticket karma is not usually good. And though James isn’t nearly as well-known as they were in 1994 when Laid came out, I figured there would be enough fans to fill the place.

I demanded that my family leave me alone on the morning the tickets went on sale so I could focus all of my considerable mental energy on Ticketmaster. It worked, and tickets were mine.

Then I had to wait. Nearly three months. [taps foot.]

But then, oh. Then.

Yesterday happened.

Freddie and I left The Jillian in the [mostly] capable hands of my mom, brother, and sister-in-law and we headed down the shore. We had a lovely dinner at a pub, then made our way over to the beach, where we parked the car, tried really hard to break the parking meter, and got in line to go inside.

We managed to snag two barstools with an awesome view and that’s where we stayed. I could have wiggled my way up closer to the stage, but we were only about 20 feet away as it was, with the added bonus of a bartender, so… that’s where we stayed.

I sent Ms. Prufrock an email from Freddie’s BlackBerry, because she’s the only person I know who would truly understand. Other people kind of get it, because we all have something we love, but Ms. P knows. Which is why I adore her.

The opening band came out and played for a half-hour, mercifully. They weren’t bad, but they weren’t particularly great, either. I’m sure they’ll be some huge giant force in the next five years and I’ll be able to say I saw them way back when, but… meh.

Twenty minutes later, my life became totally complete. The only thing that would top seeing James at The Stone Pony would be if the guys in The Smiths decide they don’t want to kill each other anymore and they get back together. That’s the ONLY thing.

I’m a rather blackhearted cynic most of the time, and I don’t gush about too many things, but music is the closest I will ever get to religion, and seeing one of the bands I have loved for most of my life, on a stage not 20 feet from me, is the closest I will get to church, I think.

It was a good thing. A very good thing.

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One Response to Sometimes…

  1. I’ve been desperately waiting for this post, and because I am s-a-d, I felt I was living the experience along with you. Sigh. Aren’t James marvellous?

    I’m so glad they lived up to your expectations, and that you were able to make such a lovely evening out of it.