I Fell In Love With The Girl At The Rock Show
If you caught me on a normal day, meandering down the street, my hair a total mess, face unshaven, jeans worn for their 6th day in a row, you might mistake me for some loveless loser who has simply given up. I don’t pull off that dirty-indie-hipster look very well. And even on my good days, when I have a presentation to make at school and I get all dolled up, one might mistake me for some arrogant prick that doesn’t acknowledge the smiles and flirtations of girls passing by, trying to look cute in their summer dresses.
The fact is, I’m the exact opposite.
I have someone special, but she lives far away. 237 miles away, to be exact. I never look my best on a normal day, because who do I have to impress? I don’t acknowledge saucy winks at bars or by those chicks with huge sunglasses and overpriced Coach bags on Walnut St, because ladies, save your swoons, this boy is spoken for.

I met a heartbreakingly beautiful girl while on tour with Foster two years ago. They were playing a show in Albany, NY at a little hole-in-the-wall type venue called the New Age Cabaret, with Hand of Hope Records‘ artist By Autumn’s End. I remember this band distinctly, because they had a massive jug of Gatorade filled with pee sitting outside their tour van and porn scattered all over their van’s dashboard. Such a romantic setting.
I sat at the merch table for most of the show, laughing at the various anti-drinking propoganga that God-fearing Christians had brought to the show, and decided to pass out to the kids and bands. Jim, the drummer of Foster, especially loved the comic.

While I sat at the merch table, laughing at the comic strip and thinking about how sauced I would get later that night, I found I couldn’t take my eyes off this one punk rock girl, with her dark brown eyes and long chestnut hair that danced over her face, that had come over to the merch table. Small talk was made and she walked off with her friend, and I had sighed to myself, hoping maybe I’d get to talk to her later.
After the show, the promoter and his friends invited us out on the town. We explored downtown Albany and passed by pimps with flashy automobiles, nightclubs, and bars. Jeff, the guitarist of Foster, and I walked by the legendary Palace Theater, where a Whitesnake concert was just getting out.

Finally we all settled on this place that had a live swing band playing and had a fairly young crowd. The promoter and his friends, which included my brown eyed girl, were ready to party. In just an hour, everyone was drunk on music, dancing, and alcohol. We found ourselves at various tables, talking to different people, sharing tour stories and rock and roll adventures. The promoter, Russell, danced on one of the tables, and people stuffed dollar bills into his tight, punk rock jeans.

The brown eyed girl asked me to dance, I sat at the table with my Smirnoff Ice, too nervous to say yes. She danced with Brian, who was incredibly intoxicated, and I watched, cursing my cowardice. I took a photo of them dancing, an image that did her zero justice. Through out the night the guys in Foster kept lying to various girls, telling them I was their keyboard player, in order to get them to talk to me. I’d laugh awkwardly and return to my drinks.
After we all stumbled drunkenly to a nearby pizza place, I nervously asked my brown eyed girl for her AIM name, or a myspace, that way “I could, uh, you know, send um… pictures, from the uh… show and… stuff…” to her. She smiled and I carefully typed her screen name into my phone.
The band hopped in the tour van where we sat for a few hours, playing old school Nintendo games on Tom’s Dreamcast (he was the undisputed champion of Tetris), waiting to sober up before going to the next show.

I kept losing at Tetris. My mind was somewhere else and my heart was a flutter. I couldn’t wait to get home and talk to her. It’d be another two weeks and ten states before that would happen.
But it was the best thing that ever happened to me. The dudes in Foster have since snagged real jobs, long term girlfriends, and still record and play out occasionally, but don’t really tour. They’re still great friends of mine, and Jeff recently hung out with me and The Junior Varsity.
People often ask, why? She lives in upstate New York. That’s 237 miles away. How can you possibly make that work? I know a lot of people can’t understand this, and truthfully, I feel sorry for them. Because they don’t know what it’s like to adore someone this much. Sure, what we have can be complicated and sometimes a bit undefined, but that’s okay with me.
The fact is, I’d rather be with this girl once a month then anyone else every single day of the year.
Can’t wait to see you this weekend. I’ve missed you.













