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Ho boy. It’s curious when I think how long I have been putting off writing this one. I guess that proves that these ticket stories are more about psychology than entertainment, more catharsis than codification. Well, in this case it’s the deep introspections of a shallow extrovert as I dare relate to you the snippets that I can recall of a Ween concert in Port Chester, New York on November 26th, 2016.
M’lady and I had driven down to the outer skin of the Big Apple for a two-night engagement with what I have long described as my favourite live band (Ween) at what I have oft-described as my favourite indoor venue in North America (The Cap), and we were even staying at a nice, upscale hotel just a free shuttle-ride from the venue (the Hilton), so I was excited. Like, little-kid excited. Like, little-kid-who-can-legally-drink-as-much-alcohol-as-he-wants-to excited.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Appropriate, that, as “getting ahead of myself” was a major part of my undoing. Geez, do I even have to say anymore? Is the writing not on the wall already, or at least between the lines? Oh, I do? This therapy is costing me how much an hour? Oh, okay then…
Well, there was a pre-show party at Mark and Julia’s house. A bunch of our usual American Phish compatriots were there. And not only was I excited, I was also drinking overtly-strong IPA beers for the first time. What? Well, yeah, there might have been some tequila shots going around. The last thing I remember from the party? I guess that would be m’lady suggesting I take it easy whilst I scoffed a manly scoff. Something like that…
I remember standing amongst our crew on the floor of the venue about half-way back just before the lights went down. I finished a Jack and Coke and went for another. Things were hazy. I needed air and I ended up ducking out the side door where the smoking section was. Someone offered me a cigarette and I was drunk enough (which, if I may, is very, very drunk) to take it, and there was my real undoing.
Remember the first time you ever inhaled tobacco smoke? Remember the dizziness, the nausea, the head-spins? Well, imagine piling that on top of a bellyful of strong beers, random shooters, and a several handfuls of cocktails. I had pushed myself too far. I burst back into the room and promptly face-planted, tripping over nothing and spilling my expensive double JD & Coke on the red carpet.
Just as I returned to my crew the band hit the stage, and while they rocked the faces off of those around me I struggled and stumbled, gravity and balance having their way with my altered vestibular system (“vesti-bular?” “buler?” “buler?”). If there was one saving grace it’s that I was together enough to realize that for the benefit of absolutely everyone I had to get out of there. I mumbled as much to m’lady and refused to let her come with me. She walked me to the door.
I suppose if there was another saving grace it was that m’lady wrote our room number on my hand in large, legible numbers with a pen borrowed from the coat check lady. Otherwise it would have taken me hours of trying our key in all the other doors.
When I leaned on the glass door to let myself out of my favourite indoor venue my favourite live band was halfway through their second song of the night. What an embarrassment.
What? No, there isn’t any more. Outside? No, I don’t remember anything after leaving the Cap. What do you mean “I’m lying to myself?” Don’t be…okay, okay. Before I got in the cab I lost my balance again and fell into a garbage can. Okay? Yeah, there were people out there, looking at me and shaking their heads. Lesson? What lesson?
How did I feel the next morning at 6am? You mean when I woke up not remembering that any of this had happened, and walked myself down to the lobby for a coffee? You’re asking how I felt when I was fumbling with the creamer and noticed the room number written on my hand? How I felt when the enormity of my stupidity, selfishness, and middle-aged immaturity flooded through my pounding head like a river of iced blood? I don’t know, man. I really can’t say how I felt.
And that’s why I’ve been putting this off for so long.
Todd Man Out 