Eddie Vedder Live in Newark: May Your Song Always Be Sung
This is the story of how I came to believe the Universe didn't want me to go to Newark to see Eddie Vedder yesterday.
First, Andy picked me up from work at 12:30pm. I was blissfully unaware of the torture ahead and was so freaking happy! I felt like I was going to giggle myself right out of my skin. We parked at the airport and bounded inside. Since we planned to land at 5:15 and head straight to the 7pm concert, we weren't even carrying any luggage.
But... once we got to our gate, a fellow passenger told us that he got an e-alert stating that our flight was delayed.
We tried to get some information from the employees at the Continental ticket counter. They were cold, abrupt, and entirely unsympathetic. They simply stated that we'd be in Newark by 6:30. Yikes--if I didn't arrive on time, the fan club box office would close and I'd be shut out of the concert entirely! I asked the woman if there was a better way to Newark. She looked at me, dug her thumb deep up into her left nostril, and gave me a flat "No." Then she turned her back on me.
Painful, panic-filled hours passed. We went to the ticket counter again and again, to no avail. They simply did not want to deal with us--other than to say our plane hadn't even started flying to Pittsburgh yet. At that point, it started to dawn on me that I had spent an arm and leg on this trip and I was going to miss Eddie Vedder. I thought was going to throw up, right there at the gate.
I called the concert venue. I called the Pearl Jam fan club. Both were polite but told me the same thing: Just get to Newark as quickly as possible.
And so, Andy and I ran down the other gates, desperately searching for any flight anywhere near Newark. Most of the ticket agents acted annoyed by our pleas, but one nice lady was putting passengers on a 5:05 flight to Laguardia in NYC. She offered to seat us on her plane if Continental would transfer our tickets to US Airways.
Since the plane was about to take off, Andy and I tore across the airport back to the Continental gate. Our bitchy agents were even more annoyed with us and said it would be "unfair" to transfer us to a good plane --one that was actually FLYING-- when they hadn't transferred anyone else. I felt like screaming, "IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU DUDES ARE BITCHES. SEND ME TO LAGUARDIA!" I asked for their customer service number, and they finally agreed to help us. We bolted to the other plane and boarded just in time.
And so, we were in the air. If nothing else bad happened, we'd get to the concert just in time to see the whole show.
But. Argh! Then there was a traffic jam on the runway in NYC. For some reason, we wasted a painful 45 minutes in a cluster of other planes. This gave me time to make frantic phone calls and research our next plan of action. We could hire a driver for $84, but risk sitting in rush hour traffic. Or, we could get a cab to Penn Station, catch a train to Newark, and hoof it four blocks to the concert. The locals in the seats around us advised the train, which would at least avoid traffic.
When the doors FINALLY opened, we made our painful way to the front and pounded down the airport corridors to ground transport. We found a cab and told the driver to step on it, explaining that we had just 1 hour to get to Newark.
If nothing else bad happened, we'd get to the concert in time to claim my fan club seats and only miss a little bit of the show.
That's when the cab driver pulled over on the highway. His trunk was malfunctioning and kept flapping open. He got out a screwdriver and went to work.
I thought about how sad it would be to puke in a cab.
Once we finally started out again, we inched along at an agonizing pace through Brooklyn traffic. It was all surreal. I kept thinking, "At no point was I supposed to see the HOLLAND FUCKING TUNNEL today!"
We finally got to Penn Station. I threw a fistful of cash at the driver and bolted into the street. The whole world seemed to move in painful slow motion as we pushed blindly through crowds. We finally, finally found out how to buy tickets to Newark and waited tensely for the 8:04 train. I had 30 minutes to get to my fan club tickets before the box office closed.
If nothing else bad happened, I would at least get to go inside the venue.
At this point, sweating in a mosh pit for 11 hours--like I had done exactly a year before--was starting to seem like an easier way to see Eddie Vedder.
Finally on our train, we rolled at a freakishly slow pace out of New York City. Andy got directions from the attendant and we sat, practically in pounce position, waiting for the chance to burst into Newark. My mom kept calling my cell phone to get my despondent updates.
But - joy of joys - it turned out to be pretty easy to get to Newark from NYC! We finally hit the pavement in Newark and took off on foot. I felt like my lungs were going to pop in the hot New Jersey night.
And finally, finally, the New Jersey Performing Arts Center loomed ahead. It took a couple minutes to find the last remaining open door, but...we got our tickets!!! And slid, sweaty and breathless, to our seats... just as the lights dimmed.
And then, well, from there it was just magic. Eddie ambled out in his sweet, modest way. I was happy to join in the appreciative applause, which, for several minutes, seemed like it might never stop. Eddie blushed and stared into his guitar while we showered him with love and grateful cheers.
Eddie was in a great mood. He played his work from Into the Wild, offered us some covers, and sprinkled in some Pearl Jam tunes. And when he offered us all a sing-a-long in the form of "Small Town," I giddily raised my arms in the air with the rest of the room as we sang, "I just want to scream...HELLO!"
But the best, most magical part was when Eddie said, "This next song is dedicated to whoever is having a birthday tonight."
And I simply froze. I could have yelled out--I was just 12 rows back in a quiet theater. But it just came out as a whisper when I yelped, "That's me!"
And somehow, through the sheer magic that has always connected me with Pearl Jam, Eddie sang the following birthday wish:
May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
May you stay forever young.
May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
May you stay forever young.
May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
May you stay forever young.
Oh gosh. Just re-reading those words right now made me start sobbing again. I was completely overwhelmed when he sang this, thinking that I couldn't have possibly dreamed of a more magical, more appropriate birthday wish. I kept thinking, this is my song. I know Eddie doesn't have my birthday in his little Palm Pilot or whatever, so I can only conclude that it was magic.
So, basically, the concert was totally worth it.
Eddie is so genuine it's almost heartbreaking. Seriously, I sat in that seat and I watched in awe as a beautiful human being poured out his heart to us.
At one point, he decided to take a question from the crowd. The fan asked, "What are the lyrics to 'Yellow Ledbetter?'" -- the notoriously mumbled tune. Eddie explained that the song was about a man who was killed in the Gulf War, and when he deciphered the line "I see them, on the front porch, but they don't wave," his voice cracked with tears. It was amazing. I can't even tell you the level of emotion he transfers to his work and his audience.
*tear*
After the show, we headed out to the tour bus. I had high hopes of getting another autograph, this time with a "Happy Birthday" on it! But the security guards at this venue would have nothing of it. They literally chased our small group of fans to the opposite side of a gate. When we tried to stick around on the sidewalk, they called the cops on us.
This is Andy trying to cajole the Newark police into letting me watch the tour bus drive away on my birthday!
No such luck. The police forced us down the street. But eventally, I guess the cops had more pressing matters to tend to than loyal Pearl Jam devotees in Newark, so they left, and we headed back to the gate. We and our new friends Serina, Kate and Kathy watched Eddie's hair go by in the window as his tour bus exited the gate.
By then it was 2am. Our new friends took us back to their hotel so we could get a cab from there. Since our flight was at 6, we had only four hours to kill and hoped the airport would be a welcoming place to crash. I just wanted a coffee and a soft chair.
It turns out that a hotel would have been a worthy investment. The airport was about 30 degrees and the rude security guards treated us like we were hobos. But we found a piece of freezing-cold floor and dozed in and out until dawn.
Now that I'm 28, I can officially say that I'm too old for this. Every bone in my body aches today. I hope it's from sleeping on the floor and not a flu, since it's the same cold, awful ache. I just scheduled massages for Andy and me at 5:00 today. Because, this is the funniest part of all:
Tomorrow, my mom and I fly to Montreal to see Eddie Vedder. :)
Wish us luck. PLEASE!
The beautiful photos of a beautiful, heartbreakingly sincere human being:
This is Eddie laughing off a bad review of his show in the New York Times, which had described Eddie as "righteous and brooding." Heh!
First, Andy picked me up from work at 12:30pm. I was blissfully unaware of the torture ahead and was so freaking happy! I felt like I was going to giggle myself right out of my skin. We parked at the airport and bounded inside. Since we planned to land at 5:15 and head straight to the 7pm concert, we weren't even carrying any luggage.
But... once we got to our gate, a fellow passenger told us that he got an e-alert stating that our flight was delayed.
We tried to get some information from the employees at the Continental ticket counter. They were cold, abrupt, and entirely unsympathetic. They simply stated that we'd be in Newark by 6:30. Yikes--if I didn't arrive on time, the fan club box office would close and I'd be shut out of the concert entirely! I asked the woman if there was a better way to Newark. She looked at me, dug her thumb deep up into her left nostril, and gave me a flat "No." Then she turned her back on me.
Painful, panic-filled hours passed. We went to the ticket counter again and again, to no avail. They simply did not want to deal with us--other than to say our plane hadn't even started flying to Pittsburgh yet. At that point, it started to dawn on me that I had spent an arm and leg on this trip and I was going to miss Eddie Vedder. I thought was going to throw up, right there at the gate.
I called the concert venue. I called the Pearl Jam fan club. Both were polite but told me the same thing: Just get to Newark as quickly as possible.
And so, Andy and I ran down the other gates, desperately searching for any flight anywhere near Newark. Most of the ticket agents acted annoyed by our pleas, but one nice lady was putting passengers on a 5:05 flight to Laguardia in NYC. She offered to seat us on her plane if Continental would transfer our tickets to US Airways.
Since the plane was about to take off, Andy and I tore across the airport back to the Continental gate. Our bitchy agents were even more annoyed with us and said it would be "unfair" to transfer us to a good plane --one that was actually FLYING-- when they hadn't transferred anyone else. I felt like screaming, "IT'S NOT MY FAULT YOU DUDES ARE BITCHES. SEND ME TO LAGUARDIA!" I asked for their customer service number, and they finally agreed to help us. We bolted to the other plane and boarded just in time.
And so, we were in the air. If nothing else bad happened, we'd get to the concert just in time to see the whole show.
But. Argh! Then there was a traffic jam on the runway in NYC. For some reason, we wasted a painful 45 minutes in a cluster of other planes. This gave me time to make frantic phone calls and research our next plan of action. We could hire a driver for $84, but risk sitting in rush hour traffic. Or, we could get a cab to Penn Station, catch a train to Newark, and hoof it four blocks to the concert. The locals in the seats around us advised the train, which would at least avoid traffic.
When the doors FINALLY opened, we made our painful way to the front and pounded down the airport corridors to ground transport. We found a cab and told the driver to step on it, explaining that we had just 1 hour to get to Newark.
If nothing else bad happened, we'd get to the concert in time to claim my fan club seats and only miss a little bit of the show.
That's when the cab driver pulled over on the highway. His trunk was malfunctioning and kept flapping open. He got out a screwdriver and went to work.
I thought about how sad it would be to puke in a cab.
Once we finally started out again, we inched along at an agonizing pace through Brooklyn traffic. It was all surreal. I kept thinking, "At no point was I supposed to see the HOLLAND FUCKING TUNNEL today!"
We finally got to Penn Station. I threw a fistful of cash at the driver and bolted into the street. The whole world seemed to move in painful slow motion as we pushed blindly through crowds. We finally, finally found out how to buy tickets to Newark and waited tensely for the 8:04 train. I had 30 minutes to get to my fan club tickets before the box office closed.
If nothing else bad happened, I would at least get to go inside the venue.
At this point, sweating in a mosh pit for 11 hours--like I had done exactly a year before--was starting to seem like an easier way to see Eddie Vedder.
Finally on our train, we rolled at a freakishly slow pace out of New York City. Andy got directions from the attendant and we sat, practically in pounce position, waiting for the chance to burst into Newark. My mom kept calling my cell phone to get my despondent updates.
But - joy of joys - it turned out to be pretty easy to get to Newark from NYC! We finally hit the pavement in Newark and took off on foot. I felt like my lungs were going to pop in the hot New Jersey night.
And finally, finally, the New Jersey Performing Arts Center loomed ahead. It took a couple minutes to find the last remaining open door, but...we got our tickets!!! And slid, sweaty and breathless, to our seats... just as the lights dimmed.
And then, well, from there it was just magic. Eddie ambled out in his sweet, modest way. I was happy to join in the appreciative applause, which, for several minutes, seemed like it might never stop. Eddie blushed and stared into his guitar while we showered him with love and grateful cheers.
Eddie was in a great mood. He played his work from Into the Wild, offered us some covers, and sprinkled in some Pearl Jam tunes. And when he offered us all a sing-a-long in the form of "Small Town," I giddily raised my arms in the air with the rest of the room as we sang, "I just want to scream...HELLO!"
But the best, most magical part was when Eddie said, "This next song is dedicated to whoever is having a birthday tonight."
And I simply froze. I could have yelled out--I was just 12 rows back in a quiet theater. But it just came out as a whisper when I yelped, "That's me!"
And somehow, through the sheer magic that has always connected me with Pearl Jam, Eddie sang the following birthday wish:
May God bless and keep you always,
May your wishes all come true,
May you always do for others
And let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
And climb on every rung,
May you stay forever young,
May you stay forever young.
May you grow up to be righteous,
May you grow up to be true,
May you always know the truth
And see the lights surrounding you.
May you always be courageous,
Stand upright and be strong,
May you stay forever young,
May you stay forever young.
May your hands always be busy,
May your feet always be swift,
May you have a strong foundation
When the winds of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful,
May your song always be sung,
May you stay forever young,
May you stay forever young.
Oh gosh. Just re-reading those words right now made me start sobbing again. I was completely overwhelmed when he sang this, thinking that I couldn't have possibly dreamed of a more magical, more appropriate birthday wish. I kept thinking, this is my song. I know Eddie doesn't have my birthday in his little Palm Pilot or whatever, so I can only conclude that it was magic.
So, basically, the concert was totally worth it.
Eddie is so genuine it's almost heartbreaking. Seriously, I sat in that seat and I watched in awe as a beautiful human being poured out his heart to us.
At one point, he decided to take a question from the crowd. The fan asked, "What are the lyrics to 'Yellow Ledbetter?'" -- the notoriously mumbled tune. Eddie explained that the song was about a man who was killed in the Gulf War, and when he deciphered the line "I see them, on the front porch, but they don't wave," his voice cracked with tears. It was amazing. I can't even tell you the level of emotion he transfers to his work and his audience.
*tear*
After the show, we headed out to the tour bus. I had high hopes of getting another autograph, this time with a "Happy Birthday" on it! But the security guards at this venue would have nothing of it. They literally chased our small group of fans to the opposite side of a gate. When we tried to stick around on the sidewalk, they called the cops on us.
This is Andy trying to cajole the Newark police into letting me watch the tour bus drive away on my birthday!
No such luck. The police forced us down the street. But eventally, I guess the cops had more pressing matters to tend to than loyal Pearl Jam devotees in Newark, so they left, and we headed back to the gate. We and our new friends Serina, Kate and Kathy watched Eddie's hair go by in the window as his tour bus exited the gate.
By then it was 2am. Our new friends took us back to their hotel so we could get a cab from there. Since our flight was at 6, we had only four hours to kill and hoped the airport would be a welcoming place to crash. I just wanted a coffee and a soft chair.
It turns out that a hotel would have been a worthy investment. The airport was about 30 degrees and the rude security guards treated us like we were hobos. But we found a piece of freezing-cold floor and dozed in and out until dawn.
Now that I'm 28, I can officially say that I'm too old for this. Every bone in my body aches today. I hope it's from sleeping on the floor and not a flu, since it's the same cold, awful ache. I just scheduled massages for Andy and me at 5:00 today. Because, this is the funniest part of all:
Tomorrow, my mom and I fly to Montreal to see Eddie Vedder. :)
Wish us luck. PLEASE!
The beautiful photos of a beautiful, heartbreakingly sincere human being:
This is Eddie laughing off a bad review of his show in the New York Times, which had described Eddie as "righteous and brooding." Heh!