Last Wednesday, my friend Sam calls me around two in the afternoon. He wants me to drive up to Brooklyn with him for a Stellastarr show. Now, Sam and I are both in our early 30's. We both have full-time jobs, own homes, and are raising kids. Which means it's been a while since either of us has driven to Brooklyn on a moment's notice, on a work night, to catch a show. We both thought it was a bad idea, but we were both giddy with the fun of it.
So we do it. My wife Erica and her friend Becky come with us. We leave our house about 7PM. The show is at 8:30PM. It takes two hours to get to Brooklyn from my house.
The show was at a place called Public Assembly, on 6th Street near Kent. Being suburbanites, we didn't realize that N. 6th Street (where we parked) and S. 6th Street (where the gig was) were 12 blocks apart.
By the time we made it in the doors, Stellastarr only had three songs left to play, but what we heard was fantastic. The show was a warm-up gig for them, and a private session just for their friends. Guitarist Mike Jurin and I have been friends since high school, and Mike and Sam were once in a band together.
Once they left the stage, we hung out and played catch-up for about an hour. It was after midnight by the time we got on the road. For the next 90 minutes, we drove along solemnly empty Jersey highways, making our way home while keeping our eyes open for someplace to eat. The only food we found were some really questionable pre-made sandwiches in an all-night gas station in the middle of nowhere. We decided to abstain.
We got home around 3AM, exhausted but energized. The moral of the story? Every now and then, drop everything, drive to New York, and catch a good rock show. It's good for the soul.
I thought the moral of the story was don't move to Jersey.