As I scooch down under my quilt, fuzzy Xmas socks on my feet, polka dot jammy pants and long sleeved cozy shirt on, I reflect on this night. This odd, odd night. It's 1:00 am and my ears are ringing, but from the silence...
I won Pearl Jam tickets quite some time ago and I remember snickering, thinking I would give them to a friend as an early Xmas present. I told her if she couldn't find a date, I'd go with her. I was SURE she would find someone else to go with her! Positive! A lovely girl like that should have guys falling all over her! Nope. Not this month.
So off we went, much to my husband's annoyance - he had to stop working to come watch the kids while I was out. Bitter cold greeted us after we parked the car - rock star street parking, only 2 blocks from the stadium! Woot! We scuttled our way to the venue with hoards of others, eau de pot wafting all around us. I was not excited. At all. But curious.
The opening band was Mudhoney - you know, the guys neither of us has heard of. Mudhoney played to a small crowd, maybe 20% of the stadium had arrived. They were tight - literally. They had a small portion of the centre stage set up for their performance, and stuck close to each other throughout. The lead singer was entertaining, flopping about like a rubber chicken. I didn't understand a word he said, but I appreciated the visceral reaction I was having, my toes tapping and my head bobbing. Hmmmm...not bad so far...
When Pearl Jam started, I noticed the arena was packed! To the rafters! Not a single empty seat visible in the sea of bodies. The stage was open and even all the seats behind the stage were jam packed! And the never ending concert had begun. It went on and on. I didn't know the words to any of the songs, save the incredible version of Pink Floyd's The Wall, which was impressive and endearing. But I enjoyed myself. Unbelievably.
I enjoyed the lead singer's (what's his name??) halting speeches, the mesmerizing lanterns, the black and white live music video on the ten foot screens. I enjoyed watching the guy two rows down belt out every song, talk to everyone around him, and wave around his poster tube like a maestro. He was gesturing enthusiastically and smacked a passing woman right in the face! She didn't see it coming, but it didn't seem to phase her much. She was probably stoned from the clouds of pot like the rest of us!
I felt sorry for the baby inside that clearly pregnant woman walking past me. I wondered at the 4 year old on his Dad's shoulders with the headset on. I marveled at the brave security teams taking down rowdy and/or drunk revelers, three of whom left in handcuffs. I admired the stage set, with the beaver dam hanging overhead (oh, that wasn't a beaver dam? What was it? I thought they put it up 'cause we're Canadian. Eh?)
I have been into all kinds of music over the years, and my pot phase was '83-'86, long over by the time Pearl Jam hit the big time. But tonight I got (unintentionally) high, and I totally got into their music. I could see myself back in '91 listening to Pearl Jam with my friends in the house we rented, dancing to their music at 86 Street Music Hall, etc.
As much as I enjoyed it, I was glad when it was finally over (after 3 hours and two looooooong encores)! As we drove home, the Fox played back songs that we had just heard live, and I smiled. It was nice. You know what else was nice? It wasn't loud. At all. My ears are not ringing from the music, they are filled with deafening silence from a quiet house with sleeping babies. I didn't need those ear plugs I had so cleverly stashed in my purse.
Now please hand me a fork, I'd like to eat my words...
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