Present Imperfect

The motion keeps my heart running. | March 25, 2005

Ah, the saga continues.

Yesterday, Lille, today...THE WORLD! Okay, no. Amsterdam again. But whatever.

I managed to talk our way backstage at last night's show, but chickened out well short of meeting the band and confessing undying, regressive love. It all goes back to my long-standing fear of celebrity. But better still (honestly), we met their lovely road manager who showed us around the stage during the sound check and looked in on us repeatedly.

And that's pretty much par for the course where this trip is concerned: We've met so many kind people who forgave us our nationality and seemed genuinely interested in talking with us. From the guy we met on the streets of Paris who happened to live down the street from Jen in Hermosa to the two British couples with whom we exchanged beer tabs to the girl at the Aeronef bar who turned us on to the only available alternative to Amstel (Yes, I do think that highly of beer recommendations. The girl deserves a medal for her Affligem tip.), everyone has been tear-jerkingly dear. I rarely felt like the pariah I imagined I would. Nor was it all novelty.

It helps when you have music in common. Frankly, language is barely a barrier when you're standing shoulder to shoulder and singing at the top of your lungs along with people from no fewer than five different countries. It sounds completely corny and lame and ridiculous, but the simplest, most basic, universal desires for love, understanding and acceptance just sound better when they're sung out loud. To three thousand people.

Okay, yes, I'm about five glasses of vin rouge to the wind, but that doesn't make all this any less poignant, right? Right?!