. . . around 5 summers ago, and I just got thinking about it recently. It all began when a friend, who was also a roommate and star of numerous blog posts, and I went to the My Morning Jacket show at the Taste of Randolph Street right here in Chicago. This was before the band got more popular, so believe it or not, the show really wasn't that crowded. What was a little annoying was the yuppies there, and there were lots of them - no surprise given the neighborhood - had their backs to the band and were carrying on conversations. Looking around, I was one of the only guys dancing and getting into the music.
Well, regardless of the lackluster crowd, it was an amazing concert with the sun setting, making a beautiful backdrop behind the stage, and the Jacket was going all the way off - back when they all had long hair and did a lot of head banging. Roomy kept our beers full by sidestepping right to the front of the line, shooting one eyebrow up in the air like James Belushi, and smiling in the general direction of the people he was cutting off, and at 6'4" and nearly 300 pounds, nobody seemed to put up much of a fight.
Afterwords, he and I went to a house party that was in full swing by the time we got there, with the outdoor courtyard teaming with fun people in various stages of happy drunkenness. I remember commandeering the iPod and leading numerous sing-a-longs, mostly hair metal ballads, for some reason - Tesla's "Love Song" and Mr. Big's "The Next To Be With You" to name a few. Ladies all seem to love the latter for whatever reason, despite the fact that my interpretation has always been that the song is about some slut that half the band has nailed, and now the singer wants to have a go at her, but that's beside the point.
Later that night, one of the hosts of the party, a good looking female I had a thing for, was talking with me at length about I'm not sure what - but it was one of those conversations that seemed really important at the time. The pheromones were firing, eye contact was intense, and we started talking closer-and-closer, and I began to get a pretty good idea we would be kissing soon. It was one of those moments, and it was great.
The party started winding down, almost everyone had gone home, but she and I didn't even notice. I remember she was a big fan of Paul Simon, and we were spinning multiple songs by him, singing along to fun summery Simon classics like "Kodachrome" and "Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard," just feeling good. For whatever reason, we went for a long drunken walk through the city in the middle of the night - not the safest of activities, but we made it home, each in one piece, and it was then that we got to know each other a little more. With most of our clothes off.
It turns out we had strong feelings for one another, but for various reasons, we just never seemed to work out as a couple. There was a while where we would meet up after a random text and make out, and this went on about once or twice a year for a few years, but then we just lost touch.
It wasn't the best concert I ever saw, the best party I have ever attended, and she wasn't quite the love of my life, I guess, but all the different things that went on that night just made me feel incredible at a time when I rarely felt very good. The next day, jumping in a cab on my way home, I remember still feeling terrific.
Anyone else have an awesome night they would like to share? I hope you have had a night where you felt as good as I did on that Chicago summer night. We all should have a few nights like that before we die, right?