I work on a computer all day and I had set a reminder to buy tickets to a band called the Distillers, a punk rock band who were reuniting and playing together for the first time in 14 years. (“Fun fact”: the frontwoman of the band, Brody Dalle used to be married to Tim Armstrong from Rancid, and whose breakup is immortalized in the Rancid song Tropical London.) Thanks to my timely notification, I hopped on immediately and bought two tickets the exact minute they went on sale, and to my suprise, the show completely sold out approximately 3 minutes after they were first made available. As I was perusing the internet trying to figure out why the show I acquired tickets to was so fashionable all of a sudden (I’m really not used to that), I discovered that there were superfans out there who were very distressed that the show sold out. There were people who had been planning on traveling from Canada and Mexico to Arizona to see the band play at the Crescent Ballroom, which is a relatively small venue. Without realizing it, I had snagged tickets to a hot, exclusive event! There was a twinge of contrition because while I’m a fan of the Distillers, especially their brilliant album Coral Fang, Emily is a casual fan and probably knows only a handful of songs. We weren’t sure what to do and we considered selling Emily’s ticket, but ultimately decided to keep it, because I don’t know, we got there first fair and square? I hope those people get a chance to see the Distillers at some point. I’m still not sure why they didn’t play a bigger venue like the Marquee. Apparently, the band and the promoters weren’t even expecting this level of demand. It’s all still a little strange to me. The night of the event we had to walk through people seeking tickets and decline offers. Never have I felt so chic going to a grimy punk rock show. When we got inside the Crescent Ballroom was jam-packed full of people. There are some risers in the back that you can sit on if you don’t want to have any fun. We sat on those for the opener, The Flytraps. They were an all-female Bikini Kill style band who were loud, aggressive, in your face, and the lead singer seemed quite drunk. They kept me entertained and I enjoyed their set, although I don’t think I ever checked out their music afterward so they must not have made too much of an impression. Since I do in fact like having fun, I made the mistake of suggesting we try and get up to the front. Usually that works, but this time we were all packed in like sardines and couldn’t quite make it. Poor Emily couldn’t see much except the back of some punk rockers sweaty back patches. While we were standing there watching people on stage set up for the Distillers show and standing uncomfortably close to the people in front of us (knowing if we allow any space somebody is going to muscle their way in front of us), a girl turned to Emily and said “you’re the only normal person here!” (…hey!). We had a good chuckle at that, but as we looked around, sure enough, there were a lot of weirdos. The crowd began to get more excited and impatient and somebody felt the need to turn off the rambunctious punk rock that was blasting, serving as the house music, and turned on some chill electronic stuff that was just awful. We had to suffer what must have been 20 minutes of that. When the band finally took the stage and started into their first song the place absolutely exploded with excitement and energy. There was a girl with a giant pink mohawk piggybacking another girl and they were both jumping up and down pumping their fists with the lyrics. I could see her mohawk getting closer and closer to my face almost in slow motion, and I started to try and maneuver the upper part of my body backward to try and avoid getting a mouthful of pink hair and hairspray or glue or whatever keeps that thing together. As I was doing this I was twisting my face to the side and I saw Emily watching me and cracking up. Even with such potential discomforts, I always prefer being in the middle of the craziness, but when Emily is with me I can almost always get us to the very front so she can see, and keep out of the craziness a bit. Not this time though. I had a fun time but I think Emily was a little frustrated, with a hint of claustrophobia. I think she felt doubly bad about using up a coveted ticket because she couldn’t even really experience the show since she’s only 5 feet (1.5 meters) tall. I don’t know why, but people at shows always demand an encore, whether it be repeating the name of the band in unison or chanting “one more song”. Bands usually oblige, and I think it’s a corny tradition. Some bands, like the Distillers have strategies to get around this. The Melvins were very tactful and closed their set by inviting the opening band to play with them, and then all bowing at the end. We just knew that was it, there’s no encore. The Distillers took the brute force approach and at the end someone flipped on the lights and started blasting house music. The encore was quelched. Good, I say. Now we can go home and get some sleep and get on with our boring lives. After the show as we were walking out the girl who asserted Emily’s normality status exclaimed “You’re so cute!”. The next week, we went to the same venue to watch another band, the Lawrence Arms. The venue wasn’t nearly as packed but we ended up sitting on the risers in the back anyway, mostly because of our previous experience, and I wanted to make sure Emily could see. I think Emily likes going these things to people watch as much as the music itself. She pointed out that the crowd seemed a lot more “white collar”. There were even a group of guys who looked like they had come straight over from work selling insurance or something, only stopping to take off their ties before heading inside the venue for an evening of rock n’ roll. Rock shows are fun. I live in Idaho now and I miss them. I’m probably the only one within a 300-mile radius who has ever even heard of the Distillers, The Lawrence Arms, or the Melvins, much less listened to them. Being old, slow and boring is probably inevitable, so hey, maybe I’ll get a head start on that.