I Was Saved by Rock and Roll

After having a shit day at work, massive self pity and a crying breakdown to my BFF on the phone, all while in the midst of horrifying PMS and trying to recover from being the victim of some asshole's road rage on Thursday evening, I finally made my way to the Wilco show on Friday night. I bought the tickets in the fan-geek presale in June. I worship Wilco and was thrilled that I got to see the show with said BFF who came up to visit a variety of family and friends over a long weekend. When I got the newest Wilco album "Sky Blue Sky" in the spring and was listening to it on a loop in the car, I would call her and scream into her voicemail how fucking great the album is and that we are so going to this concert together!!! Well, my wish came true. I love seeing Wilco with her as she introduced me to them back in 1995 and we have been to nearly every tour and incarnation of the band. Even the Dreaded Ex respected my Wilco worship and when he was Dr. Jeckyll-style he got us tickets to see Jeff Tweedy's dad band in Chicago. The D.E. was on location in Chicago (I was visiting), Wilco's home town and Tweedy had a band called the Wiggle Worm Dads playing at a local community center. The show was in the afternoon for kids and families and I was about to throw my panties on the stage.

After having such an emotional 36 hours, I did not know how I was going to get out of the funk. Thankfully traffic eased up, parking was a $20 breeze and my other friends secured bitchen seats for all of us at the venue. Beers, hot dogs, Wilco and... ANOTHER high school run-in!! I could not believe it! Ran into a guy who I also used to, um, date and he was there with pals celebrating his bachelor party. This guy however, was the music fan of all time and true to his teenage self was thrilled to be seeing Wilco. Had a moment of nostalgia for all the concerts we saw together, stoned, silly, young and partying, but always with him, loving the music and the performance. We traded phone numbers, he gained weight, blah blah blah.

They played for about two and a half hours, and with each note I could feel my shoulders drop, my chest enjoy a breath (one filled with adjacent pot smoke natch), and my smile spread. My grin never stopped, even when I bawled during "On and On and On." All my bullshit whining was eradicated. I hugged my friends and then I floated out of there, and am grateful for my Wilco.