I woke up (Friday) to a grey in LA kinda day. The highlight of which – by a Dixie-Chicks-covered Fleetwood Mac Landslide – was the viewing of Every Little Step, a 2008 documentary about the Broadway play A Chorus Line. In a word: magnificent. Story telling at its best. The stuff that dreams are made of. Exactly what I needed to get my mind off things trying to bring me down.
You know the feeling:
– You’re conflicted about seeing or not seeing your ex. (Update: I didn’t.)
– EDD sends you a letter saying no more money.
– You haven’t heard a peep re the development meeting a big-named production company had to discuss your show idea. Or the freelance gig (the possibility of which disappeared as quickly as it had come out of nowhere). Or the article you submitted to Hello Giggles. No, seriously. Are you there Giggles? It’s me @4thgradenothing.
I know, I know…#richpeopleproblems. That’s why instead of packing up my new tent and heading downtown to OccupyLA, I listened to a friend who said “Dude. The singer will make u dance those bad vibes away” and hitched a ride to a show in the LBC.
If you’re thinking, that’s dedication! You’re right. But remember I had just been blown away by a documentary about dancing. This show was my A Chorus Line. Ok, not really, but I was ready to move to the music, so her promise was perfectly worded.
The band: Future Islands. Not to be confused with The Lonely Island.
Ok…so I had written all that stuff yesterday and saved the draft to finish it last night but now it’s today. And here’s the rest of the story.
We headed down to LB, met up with some friends, saw their new place and went over to the bar where Future Islands was to play. The lead singer was standing in the parking lot. Wearing a plaid robe/coat thing. We chatted him up and he was all, do you guys have tickets? And we were like, no…it’s a bar…with a photo booth…they do presales? Oh yeah they do. And they had presold out. He had already given away the extra tickets he had, and since bars have capacities, unless we wanted to chance the whole one-person-comes-out-one-person-goes-in line, we were out of luck. Since there were 5 of us, we didn’t wanna chance that line, so we set off for new OC horizons.
Our first sign the night was going to get more interesting was as we rounded the corner to go into the next bar, we saw Batman and Wonder Woman walk in. Once we got in, we realized we were smack dab in the middle of a superhero birthday party. Batgirl and Robin were both celebrating their special day. We befriended a group of their friends who didn’t get the costume memo and settled in for some fun. It was karaoke night, and someone was singing Paradise by the Dashboard Light. Babs took one look at my excited face when I said, “Don’t you know Paradise by the Dashboard Light?!” and took an educated guess, “Is it a Katy Perry song?” (Fine. I like Katy Perry songs.) But I also like Meatloaf songs. And I love “Paradise”…until it’s been like six minutes and he’s still sleeping on it. Longest karaoke song ever. We mingled. We drank. We mingled. I ate huge green olives (favorite bar activity). We mingled. I flirted. My friends did recon. He shared his piece of bday cake. (It was red velvet, which is the only reason I even took a bite. Good red velvet somehow escapes my whole “I don’t like cake” thing. He also had already scraped off the icing…a move that had me convinced I came all the way down here to meet my Prince Charming.)
And then we left. And my friends were all, did you exchange numbers? And I’m like, no. But it was fine, because it was fun. The night ended back at the house with Tom’s burgers. (I just had fries. Tom apparently doesn’t give a sh*t about people who might prefer a post-bar-hop veggie burger.) And then we had a living room dance party. Where I – you guessed it – danced all the bad vibes of the day away. Friends are my favorite.
EDD Update: New day. New letter. Insert sigh of relief here.