The following post was written by our good friend Eric. Eric was present when Dave and I met each other 12 short years ago in Germany. For those of you at the wedding, he was the tall guy who did a reading. Eric sent out the following story via email on July 28, 2003. I received his permission to post it -- and was not surprised to learn that I am the second friend/blogger to ask permission to rebroadcast this masterpiece. Enjoy.
I will try to get back to my regular blogging when I dig out from under some Oktoberfest work.
So here's Eric's story:
Stealing shamelessly from the Sportsguy, a running diary of last night's
concert-going affair at Wolf Trap.
5:15pm I bolted the office early after changing into shorts and a shirt my
wife will find distasteful. "A closet full of nice clothes, and you wear
that?" Victory. The simple fact of leaving the office early is enough to
put a bounce in my step. But tonight's even better - headed out to Wolf
Trap for a real throwback to college - Big Head Todd & the Monsters opening
for Hootie and the Blowfish. Walking through my old neighborhood in the
Foggy Bottom section of DC, where I lived during grad school, brought back
more warm memories.
5:30 Meet Tara at the Watergate, transfer the kiddies to her sister, who
works there, and we're off, over the Memorial Bridge, up the GW Parkway,
full of good cheer and that blind hope that builds expectations entirely out
of sync with reality. But hey, this qualifies a a real live date for us.
5:45-6:30 *%@! Washington traffic. Apparently, the entire city has decided
to get to Wolf Trap via Leesburg Pike today. No worries, Tara and I are
enjoying a conversation in the car free of interjections every 8 seconds
from the toddlers who usually ride in the backseat. It's life's little
pleasures that keep you going.
6:32 Arrive Wolf Trap. For those of you not familiar with the DC area,
Wolf Trap is a gem of a national park, tucked away in the Virginia woods
west of the city. The Filene Center, tonight's venue, is a fantastic
ampitheater built into a bowl in the woods. You can visit it here:
www.wolftrap.org All the seats inside are great, but the real pleasure lies
outdoors on The Lawn, a sloping hillside running up from the open back end
of the auditorium. The outdoor seating gets the highest ratings because, of
course, you're allowed to bring food and beverages of any kind. We haul our
gear & booze out of the car and join the throngs for the half-mile trek from
the parking lot to the theater. Brilliant people all around me are pulling
coolers on wheels - must upgrade cooler technology. And, to make matters
worse, I'm carrying a full-fledged picnic basket because Tara wanted us to
look "cute". Bless this woman, only for her.
6:45 By the time we get to the Lawn, it's already jammed with people in
full blown picnic mode. Blankets spread, beers out, a happy crowd. Tara
navigates to a great spot with a clean view straight down to center stage.
We spread out and save room for friends who will join. We lose no time
breaking out the first bottle.
7:00-8:00 this is good. not too sunny, not the usual beastly heat of a DC
summer night. A slight breeze even keeps the mosquitos at bay. Our friends
arrive and we split a shared feast of middle eastern mezzes and pan-Asian
spice. My stomach posts notice that this, combined with beer & wine, will
be an issue, but I'm in no mood to listen. [insert first red flag here]
8:00 Showtime, BHT is opening act. They're on their game. Great blues
fusion, they play several signature pieces from Midnight Radio and Sister
Sweetly - probably the two albums I listend to most (excessively) in
college. The entire crowd consists of thirty-somethings like us, and no one
is drunk or rowdy - drinking yes, but polite, chatty, conscious of not
intruding on someone else's blanket. Yep, we're all definitely old now.
8:30 This is great, (for the Drake folks raised on BHT) like sitting in
Peggy's, but outdoors (no $1 draws of Old Style, however - we'll survive).
We're far enough outside from the stage that you can hear the music cleanly,
but it's not overpowering. Low buzz of picnic banter and laughing blends
nicely with the music - did I mention that we're old? I lay back to look at
the sky (foreshadowing) thunderheads approach from the west.
8:45 BHT is winding down with Broken Hearted Savior when the first
dinner-plate size rain drops start slowly to fall. Our neighbor perks up -
"Oh, big drops mean it'll pass fast." Since I lack a degree in meterology I
demur, but yank out the rain gear.
8:50 The rain is getting into gear. The sallies in the crowd are making a
break for the parking lot. We are secure in our rain togs and umbrellas,
comfortable in our superior preparation. We mock the departing wussies. We
rule. [insert second red flag here]
9:00 The stage crew is changing sets for Hootie. This rain is quite
serious. Pelting, torrential, DC-style thunderstorm. The remaining crowd
outside roars in approval at every cracking boom of thunder. The spectators
inside the ampitheater are now having fun watching the few hundred remaining
hardy souls outside. I've stood up, and make my way to the 'facilities'.
Shoes are taking on water, shorts damp. But rain coat, cap and hood keep me
dry. The upper reaches of the lawn and entry area have turned into a wet
t-shirt contest as people continue to dash for the parking lots. But
everyone is still having fun.
9:10 So much for that. The crowd is turning. Still no Hootie, a restless,
wet crowd. Ragged cheers for sound men tuning up the occasional guitar.
I've returned to our encampment, standing in the rain, which is now pounding
the earth into submission. Tara has the umbrella, a rain coat and a garbage
bag wrapped aorund her legs. She is well prepared, imperturbable. She
implores me to sit back down. I ignore her. I am invincible. I quote
Abbey quoting Charlemagne. "Rain, je t'appelle de ta rigueur"
9:15 HOOTIE. Cheers all around. The storm identifies the band as
competition, and ratchets up the intensity.
9:20 It is raining so hard, you cannot hear the music. It's their new
stuff, so the rain nosie is not such a bad thing.
9:30 The group of six in front of us has been cut to four. They are
hunched under a tarp and negotiate a swift maneuver; spinning in unison they
retrieve a cooler while all managing to stay under the tarp. I am
impressed.
9:31 The tarps cannot locate their bottle opener. Shouts of horror, anger,
accusation from under the tarp. I procure our opener and offer it around.
I am a hero. I am offered beer. I toast the rain.
9:34 Columbia rain jacket has been breached. This is unbelievable. 8
years, countless south China downpours, three Force 10 hurricanes in Hong
Kong, numerous wet treks in the swamps of DC, and this jacket chooses this
moment to fail. Memo to Columbia: you suck. At this point, I realize too
that my shoes have actually become portable aquaria. My feet are afloat.
9:45 I finally acquiese to Tara's request I sit back down. How much more
wet can I get, anyway? Apparently, very wet. Sitting on a hill in a
downpour has but one consequence - immediate rainwater enema. I
am...displeased. I stand again, trying in vain to separate my shorts from
my colon, where they have been relentlessly forced by surging rainwater. I
note that even the tarp folk have abandoned the battlefield.
10:00 Our neighbors leave, they have had enough. They are wise. "Let's
go!" I shout to Tara. No way. She has paid her money. She is now standing
inside a trash bag, with it cinched around her waist - waterproof head to
toe. And her raincoat is better than mine. We agree to "one more song".
Hootie implores the crowd to "stay dry", and then says that their CD's are
on sale at the gift shop, or are also available online. At this moment I
hate Hootie with a passion normally reserved for war criminals, guys who
kick their dogs, and Howard Dean.
10:20 Predictably, "one more song" has rabbited into 4. My shorts have
taken on as much water as cotton allows, and are dumping the excess runoff
straight down my legs. I am cold. I am wet. There is no beer. The rain
of course, sensing its advantage, takes it up one MORE notch.
10:25 My stomach announces it has formed an axis of evil with the rain.
10:32 Tara gives in, deciding correctly that she has married a wimp. I am
fixed with a look of considerable disdain. She is tougher than me. But I
prevail. We gather our sodden gear and make for the car. I am now carrying
a blanket that weighs approximately 75 lbs. in addition to my "cute" picnic
basket. My shorts have been stretched to such an extent by the water that
it appears I am now wearing knickers. Fore!
10:40-11:20 I of course choose the long way home. "Brilliant! Just
brilliant!" shouts my stomach.
11:21 Arrive home, hurriedly thank sister-in-law babysitter, dash for
bathroom, lock door, pray.
11:30 Pray harder.
11:40 Epiphany.
12:00 recover, let out dog, let in dog, find bed
0530 alarmshowerdressbusssluglinemetroofficecoffee
Argh.
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