Decemberists

Apparently, Jersey City is on the upswing...

...Because I saw The Decemberists perform a block from my house this evening. This is rather odd as I live a very quick train ride from New York proper aka Manhattan. This is the musical equivalent of off-off-off-off-off Broadway. If you needed more convincing, well, they're playing there again tomorrow night. The demand must've been overwhelming! Pretty soon they'll be doing Phish-style 3-4 show runs at the same venue replete with a now third generation version of Shakedown Street.

The thing that let me know Jersey City is not quite ready for prime time was this gem of an experience:

As we get ready to head to the show, we double check for tickets and we start the grueling 7 minute walk. As we arrive at the theater (which was really nice, actually) I get the feeling that I may have actually forgotten my ticket. Figures. This sort of thing has been happening a lot recently (Witness the Kaimana debacle). So as I step up to the ticket-collector, I fumble for the ticket and cannot find it. This is not surprising as the ticket is not there.

I tell the ticket guy that I've forgotten it and will have to go back to my apartment to get it. He says "Nah, I've got your ticket right here" while pulling a ticket out of his pocket and ripping the stub off. The first thought that enters my mind, of course, is "Hey... that's not my ticket... My ticket is back in my apartment... Why are you lying to me?" I avoid saying this and just sincerely say "Thank You" as the band was finishing their first song. If I could find that dude, I'd take him out for dinner. The thing is, I can't remember what he looks like or what his name tag said. I guess I single-handedly defeated the whole purpose of the name tag there. I never look at those things. I'm concerned that women with name tags will think I'm checking them out and I'm concerned that men with name tags will think I'm not listening to them. Ah well. Maybe if name tags were placed somewhere that you actually looked in a casual conversation (like on the floor or on someone's forehead) they'd be more effective. But creepier.

We then got in and enjoyed the show as I mumbled my way to sit with my accomplices without ever actually looking at my ticket. The concert itself was very good. As I told my brother and father over the holidays, "I'm pretty sure their lead singer is just smarter than me." The lyrics are wild in a fairy-tale fantasy kinda way and the music is complex in a progressive-folk rock kinda way. (We'll pretend that's a real description for now.) The stage banter was okay, but a bit nutty. For some reason I still can't shake the idea that this band's live performance was a musical version of a non-office focused Newsradio.

I know that makes no sense, but I think it might be true.

When I returned to my apartment, I did find my ticket on the ground where I had mistakenly dropped it before leaving. I guess the lesson is, to adjust a quote from Swingers: If you're a completely honest person and actually don't need the shit, they give you the shit for free.

Did a quick workout today before we got some Indian food before the concert. Both the workout and the food were good.
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Workout Total:
15 Minutes Circuit