So I went to my first rock concert. Second if you count the time we went to Vegas and I only made it 45 minutes into the show. I don’t even know if it was 45 minutes, but I did have a long conversation with a stranger about how he got his Mohawk to stand so straight and tall. The stranger found the conversation particularly annoying and it was really clear that he wanted to get away from me asap – maybe because he had saved up all his pennies to go to Vegas to attend Cruefest, and didn’t want to talk hair with a random like me. And then I got lost in the Hard Rock Casino and another stranger told me how to get to my room which was really fortunate because I think it would have been pretty easy to kidnap me, but he thankfully chose not to.
But this time, I made it all the way through. We all did. We spent a long day with five people and a million pounds of our things packed into a minivan that was en route to Cleveland. Mike, Zac, Lindsay, Ryan, and I listened to 90s music, ate Jimmy John’s and other delicious treats like Twizzlers and peanut M&Ms (all provided and packed by Ryan), learned the words to “Like a G6” (my new favorite song), and mainly just had a fabulous eight hours in our super stylish ride. We arrived to Matt’s apartment around 4:00 and showered, put on our rock & roll gear, and snacked some more.
The concert was incredible, and now I can confidently say: “Oh, Buckcherry, Three Days Grace, and Nickelback … yeah, I’ve seen them.” So there’s that. We also have a tendency to have more fun than anyone else ever in the history of fun having. It’s true. Matt taught us the Douggie – do you know it? The song goes: “Teach me how to Douggie, teach me, teach me how to Douggie.” And Matt is the best Douggie teacher I know. So, post concert, we all sang that about a kajillion times as we danced (the wrong way) home from the Quicken Arena. And then I did a headstand in the elevator. How many of the 176 pictures that we took do you want to see?