Single greatest day of my life

In my hellish writing class (Honors 150, in case you were interested...) I was assigned to write a personal narrative. We were told to focus in on an event, feeling, incident, or experience that took less than 24 hours, start to finish (basically, the more focused, the better). One of the most vivid memories I have is THIS little gem so... enjoy! It's my first actual post on the topic I believe. 

On a side note, this was one of my favorite papers EVER to write because I basically just got to write a blog (that filled up 6 and a half pages in Word).

Here goes!

I literally leapt out of bed, peppier than a cheerleader on Ecstasy. My vulnerable heart was beating to its capacity, filling the farthest reaches of every limb with blood and excitement. Today was the day. As I ran to the shower, I couldn’t help but grin like an idiot, breaking that pose only to take time to release some of this uncontrollable energy by doubling over in a ridiculous fit of giggles, more appropriate for someone half my age. The morning was a blur; I made sure to do my hair in some way that I figured wouldn’t get ruined by the events to come, and to top off the look I put on my themed, lovingly hand-crafted t-shirt created the night before…

            “RELAX… TAKE IT EEEEE – EEAA –SY!” The music with the overwhelming bass beat boomed from the iHome. Katie, Albree, and I unleashed our fire by cutting out the letters. Sparkly, metallic, and rainbow fabrics never seemed more appropriate. We ironed and traced and cut and arranged. These were motions I’d been through many times because I grew up sewing with my mom, but it seemed that never had the purpose for the sewing seemed more exciting, more exhilarating – almost as if it were a consecrated cause.

            School seemed more like a waste of time than it ever had before. How could I care about something as trivial as the symbolism in As I Lay Dying when I knew that the greatest desire of my immature heart was soon to come to fruition? How could I focus on memorizing my brand and generic drug names for my pharmacy technician test when I knew I would be on the most intense natural high of my life in less than 12 hours? The answer is: I didn’t. I didn’t care, I didn’t focus, I just tried to not scream. As my heart was still pumping larger volumes than an oil tankard, and my legs were having seizures of their own accord, all of my energy was consumed in the attempt to maintain a façade of (because calm was not even an option) relative normality.

            My self-diagnosed ADHD was more prevalent than ever before. My case of ADHD is especially crippling in the music department of my life. Rarely can I listen to an entire song, no matter how much I love it, or how much I appreciate the beauty and/or originality. In fact, I believe that most artists expect people to change the song before the end, that’s why so many just include the chorus fading out for the last thirty seconds – so that the listeners don’t miss anything! This particular day, however, I couldn’t listen to more than the first 15 seconds of a song. Every thought was scrambled, every care set aside; apparently my mind and heart were in congruence on this one: nothing is more important than tonight. I fumbled my way throughout the seemingly surreal routine of my typical day until 2 o’clock when I left my off campus class early to pick up my best friend, my partner in crime, the only person on earth who shared even a fraction of my fanatical obsession, my cousin, my Sarah.

            Sarah is possibly one of the funniest people I know. From her mishaps with babysitters as a child to her flippant disregard of authority, two things are guaranteed when hanging out with her. First, that you will not be following very many rules, and second, that you will enjoy every second of it. Her personality is a lot like mine, in that, she either loves it or hates it. There’s very little middle ground. Since we fantasized over our beloved Gerard Butler when we were 13 and 14, we’ve always enjoyed sharing, even reveling in the joys and shallow satisfaction that comes from obsessing over celebrities. So it was only natural that I should share in the glory of tonight with her. She was my only necessary that night, the first to be invited, and the last to be dropped off.

            We ended up going with two other friends, Morgan and Tim. On the car ride up, we made a quick stop at the bank. Just like the sacred sewing, the money was withdrawn with a purpose, it was hallowed. Once home there was just enough time to grab the tickets and go. This ticket meant more than just the paper it was printed on, and it meant more than the $24.50 I paid for it. No, this was a gateway, a guarantee, a wish come true. It was probably one of the most coddled pieces of paper in the history of mankind. With more care and consideration than I’d give a newborn child, I caressed these tickets for which I had prepared so well.

I found out the tickets would go on sale at 10:00 am on a Saturday morning so I put in a request (5 weeks in advance) to have the day off from work. When that day came, I got on my computer at 9:30 am and loaded the webpage and just practiced typing in my credit card information until the minute hand reached the 12, signaling the 10:00 hour. A sense of triumph and mounting excitement washed over me as I clicked the blessed “confirm order” button. Two weeks later, the tickets arrived in the mail. Instead of carelessly ripping open the envelope (as I would with most mail), I retrieved my father’s letter opener from his office for this was indeed a special occasion. With my breath held, I cautiously opened the envelope, the literal carrier of good news. Delicately, as if the tickets were made out of snowflakes, I removed the tickets; they were, in a word, beautiful.

So after grabbing the tickets, we scurried into Morgan’s car. The 6 mile drive on SR-92 to get to the freeway seemed to take an eternity. It seemed God was taunting me. “Haven’t we passed that building before?” I wondered aloud, “WHY is this semi going so slow? The speed limit is 55, buddy!” Eventually, however, we did reach the freeway and the bliss of four lanes. The doors at The Venue were supposed to open at 6:00 pm, so as we arrived in downtown Salt Lake at 4:00 pm, we figured we’d have time to grab some dinner. Initially, it seemed silly – food was so unnecessary! Why worry about sustaining my body? The contents of my stomach weren’t going to make a difference when the moment finally came, but the boys in our group took with them their demanding appetites, so food won the battle. As Sarah and I inhaled our pizza, we encouraged Morgan and Tim to finish quickly so we could go get in line. Eventually (probably more to get us to shut up than because they actually wanted to comply) we were off!

Walking from the parking garage to The Venue (a dumpy, small standing concert hall about a block away from Gateway Mall), it was all I could do to not break out into a full sprint. Walking was wholly inappropriate however, so I settled on skipping, a happy medium. There was a small line, no more than thirty or forty people in front of us. Not bad considering it was now less than an hour from when the doors were supposed to open! The setting sun tried its hardest to exert some extra heat waves our way, but as time went on, the bitter February air took over. “No big deal,” we thought, “we can endure this! Less than an hour – that’s nothing. Totally worth it.” 6:00 came and went, as did the agility in our fingers and the feeling in our toes. 6:15, 6:30, 6:45. “What is this? Why are they so late?”

7:00, 7:30 – a full hour and a half late. The actual concert was supposed to start at 7:00, “Why are we still outside?” Countless cameramen walked by as fans even more eccentric than me flaunted their head to toe costumes and giggled like schoolgirls. The flamers in line started grating on us. “If I see another gay couple making out… I swear.” The prominent “Gay Pride” posters weren’t helping. The biting cold seemed to be taking the edge off the overwhelming excitement that had earlier consumed me. My mood was slowly approaching the bitterness of the wind. Finally, FINALLY, at 7:45, the line started moving. By 8:00 we had been frisked and were on our way inside. Concerned with getting a spot close to the stage, but also needing desperately a band t-shirt, I rushed to the table. I’m usually quite frugal, but $30 somehow seemed not only reasonable, but a steal! After making the all-important purchase, I ran out to the floor.

Decent starting position, we could push to the front once the music started. My gratefulness for being inside from the cold didn’t last long. Soon I was grumpy again, this time lamenting that it was so late and still the opening band hadn’t even started. 8:15, 8:30. The sheer joy of anticipation was replaced with acidic resentment. The energy plaguing me that morning was gone – I was left angry and exhausted. As I folded my arms and reluctantly teetered between consciousness and unconsciousness, suddenly the atmosphere changed: the lighting dimmed, the music calmed, the tension intensified. Surely this must be it – he’ll be walking on stage any second now. Shadows from the behind the translucent curtains taunted and teased my gullible heart. Every remotely masculine figure sent my adrenaline skyrocketing. Finally, after more than twenty minutes of being on the figurative edge of my seat, the lighting went black, the background music muted, and the room filled with silence penetrated only by a collective gasp. After what seemed like an eternity, the woody sound of the drumsticks accompanied by the appropriate “One, Two, Three, FOUR!” erupted from Cherrise, the adorable drummer. Power and tremendous force washed over the crowd, completely enveloping and invigorating the room. Gone was the anger from before, the selfish resentment and numb hands seemed like vague, distant memories. It had all been petty. How could I have lost the passion – forgotten the reason I was coming here tonight? Nothing in my life had been more highly anticipated, nor, it seemed, could anything be more rewarding than what was surely to come. As the spotlight’s focus sharpened to reveal the body of a man more apotheosized in my mind than any other – my head cleared and legs lost all strength. It was today, it was here, it was the summation of my dreams. It was him. It was MIKA.