Wow. Even I didn't think I'd ever stoop so low with the puns, but there you go.
So I'm finally getting this post up, and only a month after it all happened. In my defense, it's actually been fully written forever, but literally every time I sat down to upload the photos, Verizon would go down again. Not to mention the fact that I could conceive, gestate and give birth to a baby in the time it takes to upload one video to YouTube. Which is just as well, seeing as I promised my firstborn to my readers if it wasn't posted two weeks ago. Oh well... I'm a girl of my word, so it's all yours, Rumpelstiltskin. Probably best for the kid anyway.
Oh, and this day holds a certain significance because it's exactly one year to the day since I first met Kat and Keane. So yeah... that's why I've waited to long to post this. I did it on purpose. Yup. That's my story, and I'm sticking to it.
Anyway, in the past, I've been told that it can be a bit of "a chore" to read my super long detailed posts. As such, I've decided that this post, while ridiculously long to the average person, isn't going to be quite as epic as I've been known to write, especially considering it covers a whole week.
Plus, in keeping with the whole "Keanedred spirits" theme, some of mine and Kat's memories should just be locked in the vaults of our minds. Not sure the general public can handle us in our full unabashed Keane-ness. I'm going to be leaving a lot of shit out. A LOT.
So essentially, reading this post will be sort of like watching an R rated movie on network television. Edited for time and content. :-)
Now, let's get to it.
The trip started on a bit of a sour note actually. About 15 minutes into the 2-hour trip to Secaucus to meet Kat, I got $160 speeding ticket. Whoopsie. I was going 79 in a 65, but I've never been pulled over. If you ask me, everyone is entitled to one warning, especially if they're not drunk and they're only speeding to get to their favourite band, but whatevs. No use crying over spilt milk... or excessive, stupid punishments.
So cut to us arriving in Portland, Maine later that night.
We were staying at the local Travelodge, which was a bit of a hole (no offense, SleepyBear).
Did you ever see the movie Identity?
Yeah... it was like that.
Not that we planned on swimming, but the pool was filled with green sludge (and perhaps the odd body or two) so we couldn't if we wanted to. When we asked for ice from the main building (we were in the shady one in the back), I was told "That ice machine isn't even hooked up!". The bedspreads were circa '74, although the room was clean enough. Truth be told, we couldn't really complain for $54... but of course we did.
At least they have a strict "No Moleste" policy.
We had a few hours before the concert, so we decided to suck it up and picked up a bottle of $6 wine to pre-game. Good times.
We got to the show in middle of Rocco Deluca's set so we got a few more drinks (natch!) and settled in for the awesomeness. When it was time for Keane, I could hardly contain myself. In typical Marnie fashion, I was literally shaking. With the exception of a few cool people, the crowd was actually a little bit lame. When they came out, I was pretty much the only maniac. Even Kat held back at first, but at least she was calm enough to take pictures!
Thanks to my awesome new friends Ashley and Ryan, whom I met via Craigslist, we had amazing seats.
No... amazing seats.
I love how it looks like I'm the only person there. And how I have my purse sitting on the stage. Who the hell do I think I am?
I managed to pull myself together enough to take some pictures myself too.
How artsy of me.
For the intro to Hamburg Song, Tom spoke a few heartfelt words that I managed to record. It's just a shame my ridiculous screams kind of ruin it.
I also got a few different clips of A Bad Dream, but unfortunately the sound is sort of muffled because of my proximity to the speakers. As we've discussed, it takes no less than 9 months to upload one short clip to YouTube, so I've opted to only show you the best one.
I wet my pants a little during that every time.
Richard, is that a shaker in your hand? Or are you just happy to see me?
The crowd not being THAT into it as a whole (no disrespect to those who were!) actually majorly worked in my favour because Tom kept coming over to me and grabbing my hand and singing to me and stuff. Kat said every time she’d close her eyes to enjoy the music, she’d open them and he’d be right there in my face.
Sometimes he was more in my face than others…
Unbeknownst to me, during Somewhere Only We Know, me and my white girl dance moves were featured up on the big screen. Apparently I was up there for a while before it was pointed out to me, and I visibly yelled out like a moron. I was like one of those jackasses on the Jumbotron at football games that I usually roll my eyes at. You can dress me up, but you can’t take me out!
"Come here, Marnie"
I actually was wearing the newest incarnation of my famous homemade South Park shirt that they liked so much last year…
(one year ago today... *sheds tear*)
And at one point, when Tom winked twice at me, smiled and said "I saw your shirt!" I thought I'd peaked for the week (and well, in life) but I was so wrong.
At the end of the show, he leaned down one last time, grabbed my hand, and smiled. Kat joked that when she saw it she immediately though, "Oh no! He’s proposing already!". I love Kat. :-)
I managed to get Richard’s drumsticks before they left the stage, which was definitely an unexpected treat. Turns out there were many more unexpected treats to come.
After the show, things only got better.
I’ll tell you, when I had the idea to make my little South Park picture into a shirt last year, I had no idea the joy it would later bring me. After the show, the guys were totally into it, and they remembered, which was yet another highlight of my existence. Surprisingly, Richard even said he’d noticed it during the show from back behind the drums. This is exactly the reason why I never made one for anyone else, despite the crazy sums of money I was offered.
Me and Richard before our "Super Sharpie" fight. Long story.
When Richard noticed the drumsticks in Kat’s hands and asked if they were his (because, you know, we make it a habit of bringing other people’s drumsticks to shows) and he insisted on signing them. We told them we weren’t keeping them together, but he signed them as a pair, noting, "Now they’re forever tied!". While he was signing them, out of nowhere he says, "Where the fuck are we again?". Hilarious.
Tom was particularly funny, coming up to me and saying "Niiiiiice shirt!" and, like Tim and Richard before him, signed it (leaning on nothing but my rock hard abs *cough*). I mentioned that he’d changed his hair so now I had to make a new one and he said "Yeah, you do! I’m going to just keep lobbing it off until I look like Tony," pointing to his bodyguard behind him.
Remember Tony, by the way. He’s a major player later.
I tried to get the "wicked" Cartman impression he told me about last year out of him, but he insisted his voice was too scratchy. If he thinks I’m not going to hound him about that until the end of time, he’s sadly mistaken.
Anyway, I’m getting all detailed now like I promised I wasn’t going to do! The band was really, really nice and they spent forever with us and we met a lot of really nice people. It was really late when Kat and I finally trudged our asses back to the Travelodge of Death.
The night didn’t end when we got back. We finished our budget wine and did a Top Model-style photo shoot featuring the signed shirt and Richard’s drumsticks – as any normal person does.
What’s that? You didn’t see it?
Our "forever tied" drumsticks...
Sweet Jesus only knows what was on this pillow case.
And now for the dramatics...
And my personal favourite series…
We are two classy, classy girls.
Okay, so now it’s morning, and our asses are headed to Boston!
Goodbye random Racecar driver!
I love, love, love Boston, but driving there sure is a bitch. Every intersection has like 9 roads… and they all seemed to be called "Boston Street." We did manage to get lost too, but to be fair, it was because the Courtyard at Marriot was hidden in this alcove (consequently, on "Boston Street") so it wasn’t really our fault.
That said, the hotel was MUCH nicer, and didn’t have that "you’re probably going to be killed tonight" vibe that the other one did. Plus, the woman at the front desk was the cheeriest person alive. We fit in a nap, some Applebee’s, and of course, loads of drinking before our taxi came and fetched us for the show.
Ahh, the hotel bar.
The show itself, it has to be said, was the least exciting and eventful for us. First of all, we were in the 4th row, which seems awesome (particularly because they were actually face value and not the equivalent of a mortgage payment), but to us it had become unacceptable! Spoiled whores.
There was a huge barrier that night anyway though, so we comforted ourselves with the fact that we wouldn’t have been as close to them as we were in Portland anyway. I did manage to get one and a half songs in up front with Ryan and Ashley before being chased away by some psychotic 100 year old usher woman so I count my blessings.
To add insult to injury, Kat got her camera confiscated for being "too professional" AND they wouldn’t give her a drinking wristband because she didn’t have a debit card to back up her out-of-state license. Luckily, mine slid easily off my newly thinned wrist and I was able to get another one for myself. Hooray to forward thinking!
Anyway, I took a few short clips of the show from our Tim-friendly angle and pretty much called it a night. The sound is awful, but here you go anyway.
The seats were awful, weren’t they? :-)
Afterwards, we decided not to hang around for the band. I hadn’t been to Boston in a while and it’s my favourite American city for nightlife, so we decided to go enjoy that instead. Our new friends Tom and Ed drove us to some bar that I forget the name of and we drank until our hearts were content.
Well actually, we drank until Kat felt like she was about to die and then we headed back.
We felt Richard’s drumsticks were a little more deserving of a picture in a nicer hotel, too.
Not quite sure why I feel it necessary to constantly be standing on the bed. Probably stems from being short.
I’m an asshole.
So next day... Check out, blah blah, traffic, blah blah, long trip home, blah blah. Back in New Jersey.
During the show in Boston, I had been daydreaming a little and came up with the brilliant plan to make some South Park shirts for the guys. Not little white tank tops, of course, but regular t-shirts. I’ll spare you the drama of the 9 shirts in 2 colours and 3 trips to the store for more of everything and just end up with the fact that I finally managed 3 good shirts.
I did change Tom’s hair, but only on his shirt. :-)
We spent most of Sunday running around doing all that, and I spent a large chunk of it trying to convince Kat that we should go to the DC show two nights later. Unfortunately, it was a really small venue, and tickets were sold out, and Kat was going to have a hard time finding someone to fill in for her at work, so it was unfortunately a no-go. Total bummer, but again, count blessings and all that.
So anyway, Sunday night was the Philly show, which was the greatest show of our whole little mini tour by a MILE. I thought nothing could beat Portland, but my hometown gig did not disappoint.
We were in the front row again and as luck would have it, there was no barrier. Slightly to the left, directly in front of Tom again so it really couldn’t have been better.
On Keane's official website, I found this beauty, which captures me being an ass in it's truest form.
Just look at my face, for the love of God.
Kat managed to get some really, really good shots too.
Something about this picture really stands out to me. I can't put my finger on it.
LOVE this one.
I managed to capture the intro to Hamburg Song again, even though it’s really blurry for some reason.
Note my insane screams while Tom politely pretends they’ve spent they’re whole life dreaming about playing in Philadelphia. :-)
I was featured on the big screen during Somewhere Only We Know again, but this time I was more prepared for it so I didn’t act like QUITE as much of a moron as before. My mom and sister, who were also there in the balcony, disagree. Their version of the story says that I was on for a long while without noticing, but that you could tell the moment that I realised it, because I started to really go overboard with my dancing and dramatics. I’d like to think I’m far more couth than that, but maybe not. :-)
Probably not, in fact.
Yeah. I don't know either.
Funny thing... well, not that funny at all actually, but weird thing... the front row on the other side of the stage actually flooded towards the end of the show, and everyone in those seats had to clear out and move back. I ony hope those people didn't pay for their seats what Kat and I did for ours!
This might be my favourite shot of the whole trip.
Anyway, the show was out of this world. Truly the best of the bunch.
But the night still managed to get even better.
Right as the show ended and we were starting to clear out, Tony, the band’s security guard (who has quickly become my favourite person in the history of the human race), called me over to him and next thing I know (I swear to God) I was on the guest list for the DC show! Without even asking! He said to turn up, find a steward, and tell them Tony put me on the guest list. How mental is that? I didn’t believe him at first and I said "Are you serious? Can I give you a hug?" and he said "You can, but it’s on behalf of the boys."
Sometimes even I can’t believe my own good fortune.
I told him I had the shirts for the guys and he said he would give them to them if I wanted, but "I’m sure you’d rather give them to them yourself?" Yes sir, I would!
I ran SCREAMING back to Kat, who was suddenly much more hell-bent on finding someone to cover her shifts for that day!
So a little while later, I gave the guys their shirts, one by one, and they went down a treat!
Tim was laughing, pointing at himself saying "There I am!".
I told him it was a medium and he said "No, medium’s perfect! Well… I like to think medium’s perfect. That’s if I didn’t eat too many Philly cheesesteaks."
I think it went down best with Tom, though. He really liked it, particularly that I did, in fact, change his hair. Of course the picture doesn’t look like, but seriously, his reaction was great. Then he added, "Great dancing down in the front again, by the way."
For those keen Googlers out there, I will tell you that I managed to find a video of this entire exchange with Tom online, not taken by me or Kat. If you can find it, more power to you. I’m not posting it though. First because it’s not mine, and second (and mostly) because I’m acting like an idiot in it. Well, not so much an idiot as a giddy school girl. Certainly not nearly as cool as I remember being at the time.
Kat begs to differ, and says I was actually unbelievably calm considering the what he was saying to me. She was surprised I didn’t "lean over and plant one on him" (and quite frankly, so am I) but the way I hit his arm and yell "Oh THANK you!" had me cringing.
Sure, I’m around celebrities all the time... why do you ask?
Before we went home, I double checked with Tony that he wasn’t joshing me, and made sure I could bring a friend. How much do I love Tony, by the way?
We were like maniacs on the way home. Because I can’t let a sleeping dog lie, of course I suggested that we make Tony a South Park shirt as well. His character actually turned out even funnier and better than the band’s…
I don’t even care if I was beating a dead horse. That shit is funny.
The next day was Memorial Day, but I went into work to make up some hours. As soon as I got done, we booked a hotel, whipped up Tony’s iron-on on the computer, packed our bags, and hopped in the car for DC, arriving around 11pm.
The hotel was a good location and had a gorgeous lobby, nice views, and a deck, but the room was so-so, particularly since the real cost per night was an astounding $399. Balls to that, I say. Oh, and balls to the $23 parking and garage ramp so steep that my car still rolled all the way down, even though it was in reverse. Balls to that.
We pretty much hit the sack as soon as we got there. Not true actually. We went to CVS and bought pita chips and shaving gel, THEN hit the sack. Kat got up early the next morning to go in search of a shirt to iron Tony’s transfer onto. Several blocks, several stores, and a street vendor later, she emerged victorious. Thanks for that one, God.
We had to check out by 1pm, so we drove to the mall in nearby Virginia (not before getting lost, of course). We farted around for hours before getting ready in a dressing room and heading over to the venue.
As promised, my main man Tony hooked us up. I would have hugged him again, but I know he has to look tough in front of all those people. I didn’t want to blow up his spot.
Again, the show was spot on and well worth the trip. We were about 3 people back (yet I think still closer than the front row in Boston) and it was hot as hell, but really, really good. Tom gave me a knowing smile during Your Eyes Open (and I know I’m not delusional because Kat punched me at the same time I was noticing myself).
AGAIN, I was on the big screen for Somewhere Only We Know, although not for nearly as long as the other nights. What was cool about it was that this time I wasn't even in the front row! Tony later told me the guy was seeking me out... Dave I think? I forget. I’m getting old. Anyway, it’s still funny. And I’m happy to say I played it TOTALLY cool this time.
See? Just as he starts with "I came across, a fallen tree.."
(Thanks to Chris for the vid!)
For the record, Tony really liked his shirt and the band thought it was funny as well – RE-sult!
Skip the rest of that night –
Cut to us arriving in NYC around 4:30 in the morning, trying desperately to find parking. I actually ended up getting sick at Kat’s apartment and didn’t fall asleep until about 6:30, but I’ll spare you those deets.
We didn’t screw around the next morning. We got our asses ready and headed to Central Park. We met up with Ryan and Ashley and pretty much hung around all day waiting for doors to open. With the odd exception, the fans at this show were by far the most obnoxious. Enough said.
When the doors opened, all hell broke loose, to put it lightly. Me being me, I didn’t bother with any of that "check my bag, rip my ticket" business. Those fools were going WAY too slow so I just tore past them, scoring my spot in the front – slightly to the left, in front of Tom. Fuck yeah.
During the opening act, I noticed none other than Blake Lewis off to the side, as well as Zach Braff. See how universal Keane is? :-)
Looks like I'm not the only one who's been working out.
Another terrific show, but I’m sure that goes without saying at this point. Our position at the barrier allowed us to get a few handfuls of that Chaplin goodness, when he jumped up against the barrier and threw himself at us. What a nightmare. :-)
I’d say the only downside to the entire night was the fact that the "NY surprise" was American Tune by Simon&Garfunkel, rather than Dirrtylicious.
Then again, if they’d broke out with some Dirrtylicious, I’d have probably lost control of all my bodily functions. Everything happens for a reason.
Ryan, Ashley, Me, the setlist, and Kat.
When all was said and done, Kat and I headed to grab something to eat, when we got a text from Tony telling us that some of the crew were getting together at a bar nearby. I owed him a drink so I was quite happy to have him cash it in. We ate, went home and changed out of our sweaty, disgusting threads, and then met up with him.
He had just put the band on a plane to play a gig in Arkansas (I think?) at some kind of Wal-Mart thing, which Kat and I enjoyed very much.
Know what else we totally enjoyed? Our night with Tony! How FUN is he?? LOVE him. We laughed until the wee hours of the morning. Turns out he actually knows some of the same people that I know from touring and even agreed with me on which ones are douchebags. We’re totes BFF now. :-)
It was a perfect night to end a perfect week.
And so ends our long-awaited Keane mini tour and, more importantly, this post.
Is it any wonder I’m sad?
More New York...