Malt Shop Logic

In November, Cherie and I attended a Foo Fighters concert at Verizon Center here in DC. It was, hands-down, one of the top two shows I've ever attended -- and I've seen Pearl Jam 3 times, Nirvana, the Red Hot Chili Peppers, Jane's Addiction (with Dave Navarro), Live, the HFStival when it was in its heyday, Better then Ezra -- ok, that was a joke -- I really did see them -- at Bender Arena -- but it was not an inspiring show.

Dave Grohl and his fellow Foos, in a homecoming concert (Dave grew up in Springfield, not far from me, and attended the high school I would have attended had my family not moved to Japan halfway through 7th grade), rocked the house for 3 hours. The show was the Foo Fighters' first-ever sellout in the DC area. The crowd was full of energy. And, there was a special intensity to the band's playing -- you could just tell Dave was trying harder than normal throughout the show, whether it was sprinting from one end of the arena to the other, playing on a riser to the crowd in the back of the arena that rose about 30 feet above the ground, talking with the crowd about life growing up in northern Virginia, or playing with the crowd during the intermission between the main set and the encore -- it was just an awesome night.

But it got me thinking about that other show on my "top two" list, coincidentally also at the Verizon Center. On May 30, 2006, Pearl Jam played a show at the Phone Booth, backing its brand-new, self-titled album, also known as the "Avocado", after the picture of said fruit on the album's cover. It was the only indoor Pearl Jam concert I'd ever attended, and it was truly awesome. As I learned that night, the acoustics of an indoor arena are crucial for a band like Pearl Jam that relies so heavily on its interaction with the crowd. Being indoors allows the band and the crowd to hear each other's full-throated devotion, instead of having some of the volume, whether it's the crowd cheering or singing, or the guitar riff being ripped off by Mike McCready, drift away into the night air. The atmosphere that night was truly electric, with the band tearing through almost the whole new album, as well as classics I hadn't heard in forever (including their cover of the Dead Boys' "Sonic Reducer", one of my favorite "PJ songs" of all time, and a song they'd played regularly early in their career but sparingly in recent years), jumping around the stage, playing their hearts out, and the crowd routinely and lustily cheering and serenading the band.

It was also the only concert I've ever attended completely alone...and that made it even better. For the first time ever, I felt completely free to get there early, leave late, buy a t-shirt, sing at the top of my lungs, high-five my fellow concertgoers, rock out to the songs being sung, and generally immerse myself in the energy of the concert and the night. I drank in every moment, and I loved it. I left the show completely exhausted, and in a state of near-total bliss.

That spring, Cherie, pregnant with Audrey (5 months along, as Audrey was born almost 4 months to the day later) was already up in Connecticut, having had her job transferred from Tysons Corner to White Plains. I was still trying to get transferred to my employer's New York City office (which didn't happen until September of that year, days before Audrey's birth!), and working for Federal clients here in the DC area, then taking the Acela or my VW up to Connecticut every Friday night to spend the weekend with Cherie -- or working remotely from our house in Connecticut for extended periods if I could get away with it.

The concert was on a Tuesday night. I had bought tickets months before. Once she knew she was pregnant, Cherie was (understandably) wanting me to "work remotely" as often as I could so I could be with her in Connecticut. So, she was not really keen on the idea of me staying in DC for a concert, and had suggested at some point that I sell the tickets. I think part of her was also a bit jealous that I would be attending a PJ concert without her -- she loved them, too, and thought if she couldn't go, I shouldn't either. And, being pregnant, her hormones and emotions were jumping all over the place.

As it turned out, I was stuck in DC that week for client meetings I had to take in person -- so there was no chance for me to get up to Connecticut until the end of the week. And I had been so busy I'd forgotten about selling the tickets. And, to be fair, I'd never wanted to sell them in the first place, so perhaps my subconscious was acting up ....

In any case, finding them still in my possession that Tuesday night, I went. I told Cherie I had a dinner for work, so she wouldn't call me during the concert, or if she did, she would understand why I wouldn't pick up. And then I went and had (what was to date) the best concertgoing experience of my life.

In the years since, I've kept that experience a secret. I don't talk about it, for fear of slipping up in conversation with Cherie and referring to it. Several times, I've found it weighing on my mind. Cherie and I have a great relationship, but there are (as I think all men believe) certain things you just don't talk about with your spouse for fear of inciting an argument or hurt feelings, or both. This was one of those things (at the time) that I knew could not be discussed rationally without hurting Cherie's feelings, and making her angry at me, or both. And, I believe even today that if I revealed to her that I went to that concert, she would be angry with me. So, I didn't tell her about it then, and I don't talk about it now.

Except here on this blog where she will never read it (Amanda, don't you dare direct her here!).

I don't regret going -- it was a wonderful experience -- but what say you, fellow blog readers? Did I do the right thing in going? Did I do the understandable thing in not telling her? Should I just keep my mouth shut, or tell her now?