Last October, while in Morocco, I managed to check my email a handful of times throughout the trip. During one particular log-in, I had a message waiting in my inbox from Josh himself (okay, it may just be that I'm signed up for his newsletters, but I'll take what I can get) announcing his next tour, planned for early 2014. Tickets were going on sale for his upcoming Boston show while I was still in Morocco; a country where I was absolutely positive I could not count on being online to purchase said tickets when they went on sale, nor the place I would feel comfortable entering in personal credit card information even if I was able to get online at the right time. Knowing the show would sell out, I quickly forwarded the newsletter to one of the most prompt and reliable friends I have. I barely even said hello in my note, so afraid that I'd get booted off the web before I was able to send her the important information regarding his concert. To hell with pleasantries, there are tickets to purchase! In fact, I'm pretty sure my email to her simply screamed: "Hello from Morocco! Can you please, please, please buy tickets for this show? I'll pay you back once I'm home! THANK YOU!"
Thankfully, my friend understands my obsession (it helps that she is a fan herself) and came through for me with the ticket purchase. Being the champ that she is, she even made the purchase on my behalf knowing, since she had a brand new baby at the time, that she'd likely not be attending the concert herself.
That is example #1 of the concert gods being on our side.
Since my ticket purchasing pal couldn't attend, I reached out to one of my best friends, a woman who has been in my life long enough to track the evolution of my Ritter fandom, all the way back to those early days in 2003 or so when I would walk into the office we used to share and say things like, "oh, check out this song I just found by a guy named Josh Ritter..." Eager for a chance to come up from her home in Connecticut for a night of live music, she jumped at the chance.
One of the many things I admire about Josh is the fact that he is always prompt. A concert going pet peeve of mine is bands that make you wait for hours (I'm looking at you, Modest Mouse.) before taking the stage, particularly if the doors didn't even open until 8:30pm to begin with, there's already been an opening act, and especially if it's a school night. It is rude. Plain and simple. In the many times I have seen Josh perform he has never once not stepped out to the stage at the exact time promised. So when my CT friend texted me at 5pm, saying she was meeting with her last patient now and would get on the road immediately after, she and I both knew she'd be cutting it close for Josh's slated 8:30pm start time.
My darling friend hauled ass up 95, maneuvered her way through city traffic, found parking, and met me in the lobby of the theater at 8:05pm. Which gave us both enough time to catch our collective breath, use the restroom, grab a beer, and catch the last two songs of the opening act. Concert god favor #2.
Since I hadn't purchased the tickets myself, I'd never bothered to look and see where our seats were exactly. While in the lobby, waiting for my driving like a maniac friend to arrive, I glanced at our tickets for the first time in months. Orchestra level? Could I be reading the thing correctly? I didn't want to get my hopes up or anything but seats 4 and 5 Orchestra Left sounded pretty darn promising. Katherine and I made our way down, down, and further down the aisle, checking our ticket numbers periodically against the seats themselves until we gleefully discovered that there were no more rows in front of us. There were two seats on the end, in the front row, that had to be ours. My friend and I grinned at one another, spoke about our great fortunes, took off our coats and sat down.
We only had a minute or two to talk before the house lights dimmed and my man stepped out on to the stage. And that's when Katherine and I realized that the massive black sound system on the corner of the stage was going to block our entire view, for the entire show. Trying not to panic (how could we be this close and not see anything?!) we both sat and listened to the opening song as patiently as possible. There was a man by himself to my right and then to his right were two beautifully empty, straight shot to the stage and actually seeing Josh from the front row, seats. They beckoned, those seats. I raised an eyebrow at my friend. "Let's just move over there until someone comes," I whispered, knowing it was a sold out show, knowing surely there were two people lingering at the beer stand out front that would be walking down the isle to claim their amazing seats in a matter of minutes.
She and I moved over quickly, suddenly able to see everything and almost - if our arms were about five feet longer - even touch the damn stage. I turned and looked to Katherine. "This. Is. Amazing." I mouthed. She nodded.
For the first hour of the show, each and every time I could sense someone standing up or walking along the isle I panicked, sure the two fans had finally come to claim the seats that were rightfully theirs.
No one ever came.
Concert god blessing #3, #4, #5 and hell, #6 too.
Maybe it's karma, perhaps it's good luck, or maybe plain old good fortune. Whatever it was last week, whoever helped those stars align as well as they did, I tip my hat to you. Sometimes, I think, that we all just get the chance to be lucky now and then. I'll take it, Concert gods. And I'll thank you over and over again as I hum each and every beloved Josh Ritter tune I know. Particularly this one:
Joy to the many
And joy to the few
And joy to you baby
Joy to me too
1 comment:
I swear you were born under a lucky star, Ga Ga. Glad you got to see well and sit so close. Poor people who didn't show up, right?
I hate when they sell tickets with a post blocking the view! Doesn't anyone look to see?
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