Saturday, the 29th Weezer. Y'all, this was a rough, rough day. K-dub got us tickets for the show at Jones Beach. It was a recipe for good times, right? Weezer, a lovely watery venue, the pleasure of K-dub's company. But it was not to be. The day began with several strikes against it. It was chilly, blustery and looked like rain. Great for hot chocolate and a nice book, not so great for an OUTDOOR CONCERT. Also, K-dub was sick and I was not feeling so well either that day. Blurgh.
I met K at Penn Station where she picked up some McDonald's and I got some very necessary chocolate before hopping on the LIRR. That was the only leg of our multi part roundtrip journey that didn't make one or both of us want to commit homicide. Really gory, bloody, violent homicide. At Freeport we got off and waited for the bus to Jones Beach with a medium sized but constantly growing crowd of concert goers. Here is where we first noticed the alarming age discrepancy between ourselves and the ENTIRE rest of the crowd. Seriously. K-dub: "Did they put Weezer tickets in the freshman orientation packets at NYU?" Seriously.
Fast forward through a couple hours of shivering in the cold while pointing out which boys we'd like to smooch and which boys we'd like to kick in the teeth. After the (shitty, awful, we've-already-got-a-Gwen-Stefani-thanks-anyway) opening band, the seats to my right filled up. Oh my dear God. I don't see how one man can contain that much bile. An average looking guy, maybe a few years younger than me, sat down immediately to my right. To his right was a girl, presumably his girlfriend. To her right, another guy. The first guy, let's call him Jackass, sits down and sighs. Loudly. Then he says, apropos of nothing, "I hated the album, I hate their last bass player and I hate Jones Beach." Dude, then why are you here? I kept my mouth shut though, because I had to sit next to Jackass for another couple hours. Then he busts out with "...like that asshole down there [he pointed to a guy in an Independent sweatshirt]. You don't know how much I loathe these people." You may all nominate me for sainthood now, since I not only didn't toss him down the bleachers, I didn't even say anything. I mean, what could I say? The only really appropriate response would have gotten me arrested.
The show began about 7 and lasted exactly 90 minutes. It pains me something awful to say it but...it was merely OK. Definitely not in my top ten of live experiences. Sadly, and surprisingly, there are bands I've liked less that have put on a better show. I was so disappointed. And they even played Tired of Sex. Still, merely mediocre. So sad.
And then! The ride home. Jaysus. It wasn't the waiting outside in the cold for a bus. We actually had some fun with two young'uns behind us, playing the What Band's Tickets Would Each of NYC's Colleges Give Away? We were stumped by Columbia, but the New School was easy. It wasn't even waiting some more at the train station, since there was a Dunkin Donuts in the station lot where we got some snackens. It was the goddamn trip back on the train, squished in the same car with the fucking NYU drama club, for crissakes. I wanted to rip their throats out. They sang the entire ride home. Y'know, kitschy songs like 70s cartoon theme songs and "old" alterna hits. Cuz they're wacky like that. Fuck. This is all very mean of me, but it was cold, I was tired and I was sad from the disappointing show. Sigh.