Sometimes, things just work out. Unfortunately for me, in my life, it doesn't happen that often. Most of my misplaced anger stems from this very phenomenon. The traffic, the irritating people, the general bullshit of life. But, every now and then, everything falls into place, the stars align, and you have the nearly perfect moment, where nothing goes wrong and there is nothing to drive you crazy.
This happened to me the other night, when my cousin, my man and I went to see Henry Rollins at the Electric Factory in Philly. Usually, a trip to Philly from where I grew up is a crap shoot. Sometimes you can sail down the Schyulkill Expressway and get to where you are going in 35 minutes. But, then there are the nights, where it is two hours of grid-lock nonsense to go 20 miles. With this in mind, my cousin, Danielle, suggested we convene at 4:30 for a pre-show dinner. At first, I thought, "She's on crack. That is way too early." But, we did. After our dinner at Applebee's, we headed down the road to the highway to head to Philly. Now, this is where the trip can get interesting. But, it was smooth sailing, right down the line, with painless merges and exits.
Due to this good fortune, we arrived at the venue at 6:40, for the show at 8:30 and the doors opening at 7:30. We had wanted to be to the EF by 7:30, because the venue has no seats and, as much as I love Hank, I'm not standing for 2 1/2 hours at my age. So, we needed to get there early to run upstairs to the bar where there are stools. Well, the early part was covered. Early was also a bonus for the parking situation, which on previous trips to the EF, was a block and half away. On this night, we parked 50 feet from the front door. We sat in the car and watched the cars coming in and around 7:10, the line blob started to form. We reluctantly left the warm car, to stand in line in 18 degree weather. But, due to our quick thinking, we were about 15th in line.
Soon after the line started to form, the crack security team started giving us military style briefings on what would be happening with the search before entering. The frisking and such at the EF is intense, and we were prepared, carrying nothing but ID and money and ticket. We also avoided a will-call snafu that was occurring by me purchasing tickets way in advance. Then, on the third announcement he said the magic words. "There are some seats on the floor inside that are first come first serve." Never had more beautiful words been uttered. So, after a few more painful moments, they finally let us in. The frisking was nonexistent this time around, and we soon found ourselves inside and in the heat and heading towards the magical seats. Well, I was willing to settle for about row 3, but my man pointed to the front row seats still available, so we jumped on them.
We congratulated each other heartily for our forethought with the tickets, the departure and the snaring of seats. In a word, we were the shit. We had made the Electric Factory experience our bitch. And, in spite of the cold temps inside, we had nothing left to do but snuggle together and laugh our asses of at the amazing show Henry put on.
Sometimes, life really comes through for you. And, due to the smarts of three unlikely geniuses, we ruled that night. Long may we reign.
*For a complete run-down of the show, check out my man's account
of the evening right here.
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