It is so good that I even managed to convert my DMB hater of a husband into a DMB die hard. Constantly debating the merits of the band, and trying to convince my husband that Dave was an amazing musician partly based on the fact that he so effortlessly "speaks to a woman's soul," did not seem to win me any points. His response never wavered.
"I am not going to listen to some guy play adult contemporary muzak!" Emphasis on the the muzak. Such a low blow. He absolutely believed with all of his heart that rock-n-roll NEVER included a piccolo. "You cannot ROCK the piccolo. You just can't. It's so uncool."
As it turns out, nearly 15 years later, I am the cool one. He has come to the dark side. I am vindicated. Yes, you can rock the piccolo, the flute, the saxophone, and the violin. And you can look pretty damn cool doing it. So, it is with great pleasure and anticipation that we will again attend the Dave Mathews Band concert at the Gorge for the third year in a row. Oh yes, for all three days. Mmmmhmmmm. That will be me, rocking out to the piccolo, and sopping up every sappy word Dave sings with a biscuit. And that will be Larry, filming the whole thing on his iPod like a giddy, drunk groupie.
The most fun I have EVER had at a concert though was at last year's TRAIN concert at Maryhill Winery. Am I a huge fan of TRAIN? No. Was I that night? OH yes! The biggest fan EVER! I doubt it had anything to do with the actual band, and more to do with the 6 plus bottles of white wine we drank. I am pretty convinced that NO ONE should ever get intoxicated on white wine. It wasn't pretty then, it wasn't pretty later that night, and it sure as hell sucked the big one in the morning. Rather than seeing TRAIN on the stage, it was more like having a train running over my head the next morning...but it was a fun ride getting to that pathetic point.
It kind of played out like the "Hangover" where you wake up the next morning and have no idea what happened or how you got to that point. All I know is the day started at Maryhill Winery and ended in the parking lot of Legends Casino. One of our newest friends puked barf nuggets all over Larry's flip flops and I found the lead singer's guitar pick wedged in my bra. By daybreak, I had "Facebook Friended" and posted pictures of my new best friend that I met at the concert. Although her name was Gina, I affectionately referred to her as "Jina" with a long "I" all night long for no apparent reason. It just felt right. Stories surfaced of a front row scuttle butt between myself and some bitter, bitchy TRAIN fan - someone who was apparently there to listen to the concert. I felt betrayed by the tiny stature of the lead singer and found myself heckling him as if it was his fault. Who the hell am I? I am barely 5 ft tall...and I have the nerve to degrade this poor, tiny thing. He is a rock star after all. That has to provide for some sort of street cred, right? Hmmm...maybe that is why the lady in the front row hated me so much. Geez, I guess hind sight is 20/20. Our car never made it home with us and had to be picked up the next day from a neighborhood that was not ours. And the only thing that made it all better was an "El Jeffe-sized" carne asada burrito with avocado and sour cream.
It really was an amazing night. The kind of night where strangers became good friends, and old friends became like family. To this day, I still keep in touch with Jina (emphasis on the long "I") and I still have that guitar pick. No, it's not in my bra anymore, but somewhere in the depths of our junk drawer. Every now and again I come across it while rummaging around for the toe nail clippers and I can't help but start singing, "If...it's love...then we're two birds of a feather and the rest is just whatever..."
Looking back, I guess that wasn't such a TRAIN wreck. It is actually quite a nice memory! Thanks Larry, Meg, Dave, Chelsea, the other Dave, Sarah, Liz, Brandy, Matt, and Gina :) Let's do it again...but with less white wine!
(Me and Gina...the two hottest bitches there!)
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