I think I'm going to survive the Bible Belt.
Spending this week visiting my folks in Kentucky has been more pleasant than I anticipated. When I set out on this road trip, this part of the itinerary had always been the part that made me the most nervous. I hadn't seen my folks in years, I had never been out here to the home they found for themselves after they retired. What would I think of it, what would they think of me now that I was no longer the quiet mouse of a housewife from before?
And then I got here, and suddenly I wasn't a woman on the road, I was a daughter again. I was the weird child. Though I sat in the living room and chatted happily with my folks, though I walked about their new home and made appreciative remarks about their birdfeeders and landscaping, in the back of my head I feared that I had somehow ended my road trip.
I was afraid I was done.
But I can see the road again now. I can see it glimmering in the distance, the road to faerie, the path of my heart.
This trip has been so amazing. I have met with so much generosity, from so many people. It astounds me. I took a chance and followed my heart, and stepped off the sure path, and I have been rewarded beyond all expectations.
I have friends now. More than ever before (no offense to you lovely people on my flist!), I have lines of connection trailing from heart to heart. I am not alone, and I have hopes that there are more connections to be made. I have hopes that by the end of this trip I will be tethered firmly to kindred spirits all across the country.
I am forging a new family for myself, one of the heart.
And behind all this, the ground from which this all springs, is MCR. I wouldn't be on the road, I wouldn't be on this trip if it weren't for this band.
Every show has been a joy, although each has been so distinctly different. The first Portland show was a perfect magic circle, me losing myself in the music and the dancing and the singing. The second Portland show was more about observing than participating. I kept forgetting to sing along, entranced by my closeness to the stage. Kansas City brought the extreme joy of meeting online friends and seeing the show with them, and being seen. Even though I eventually had to leave the pit at that show (and felt crushed by the failure of it), that show gave me so many reasons to be happy I can barely recall the feeling of defeat.
The Cleveland show is the gem of this trip (thus far, anyway!). I didn't even know I was attending it a week prior, and then the plans were made and finalized so close to the date I spent half the time I was there just being astounded that I was actually in Cleveland! For that show, I left the pit before My Chem came out, feeling angry at the crowd and their Lord of the Flies mentality that made my exit a necessity. I had been so happy to be so near the barrier, to be able to share smiles with the band Drive By (who seemed to remember me from the Kansas City show *grin*), to be able to feel the heavy bass lines from Billy Talent in the center of my chest.
But leaving the crowd was the best thing.
I found a spot at the back, at the top of a small flight of stairs that led down into the pit. From there, I had a perfect view of the entire stage, of all the guys (save for James Dewees, unfortunately), and I could hear.
Cleveland was my perfect show. Utterly.
I saw Frank sitting on the floor of the stage, grinning up at Bob and apparently pretending to be a squirrel, or a puppy, or some other cute Frankie-version animal. It was so silly. I never would have seen that from the pit. Nor would I have seen Bob at all, and Gerard and Ray would have been obscured half the time by heads and hands. I stood back there, with a girl who had been standing near me in the pit before she had had to leave, and we sang together, and grinned together.
And I filled myself to the brim with that band. I'm still a little bubbly with the memories, even today, almost a week later. I only have to think about Gerard amusing himself with the phrase "Happy birthday Earth Day" and I'm grinning, or recall the wicked grin on his face at the end of his story about being in Cleveland with Reggie and the Full Effect (walking away from the front of the stage saying "Too late, motherfuckers.") and I'm there again, not wanting to be anywhere else.
At the end of "Mama", listening to Gerard oh so seriously and oh so dramatically telling us "You can't sell the cookies if you don't wear the uniform..." I was overcome with the sheer inherent silliness of that man onstage, and I impulsively shouted at him, over the heads of the quiet crowd: "You goof!"
I got quite a few horrified looks from the fangirls around me, I can assure you, but my grin was unrepentent. He is a goof, and that show filled me with so much joy I can't even begin to describe it fully.
One of the unexpected delights of this trip has been actually getting to meet members of the bands. I honestly hadn't thought about that aspect of going to the shows, I had only thought about seeing as many of the performances as possible, to shore up my spirit against the long fearsome break.
But after the second Portland show, Frank and Mikey came out to sign autographs. I was very pleased to be able to receive a hug from Frank, and to tell him that he is a very good man, and to take care of himself. (I do so worry about him.) I surprised myself by teasing Mikey about something he said on stage that night -- handed the microphone, he had told us how he had recently discovered that the movie "Willow" sucked, and standing there before him I chided him. "How can you not like Willow?" I asked, giving him my best wicked grin. "It's got fairies!" He laughed (I made MikeyWay laugh, my friends.) and said maybe he'd watch it one more time. mrs_batman reported this encounter as me "sassing" him, and it's true and I still don't know where that came from!
My friends and I saw Frank at the Kansas City show, but did not speak to him, only worried over him from a distance like the mother hens we all are.
After the Cleveland show, I had a mission to accomplish. I had a silly little gift to give to Gerard, something I had tried to hand over to someone before the show. I had felt like a ridiculous fangirl, repeatedly stalking the buses beforehand. I even asked the drummer for Drive By if he could deliver the candy bar for me, but he could not. (And what's worse, I didn't even recognize him until I was back inside the venue. How rude!) So, show over, back I went to the chain link fence and stood by the buses, feeling stalkery but with that candy bar (now melted and not so much a candy bar anymore as a candy blob) burning a hole in my hand.
I got the chance to compliment the guys from Drive By on their set that night, though, and that was good. I had never heard of them before Bamboozle Left, but I like them more each time I see them. I think I'm going to be a solid fan of their's by the end of this trip! And they're very nice guys -- always so friendly each time I've been able to talk to them.
But finally, I had to give up. My friend and I left that area, and headed back around to join the autograph line. It just wasn't meant to be. The candy bar was going to go undelivered.
But then I saw Matt Cortez, leaning up against a car in the parking lot we were walking through, talking to a couple of people.
I almost walked completely by, my default mode kicking in -- a quick glance and then walking on, giving the recognized individual their privacy -- but I short-circuited it, and walked over to him instead. Poor guy, to have to listen to me explaining the candy bar, and my request that he give the bedraggled thing to Gerard! But he was very gracious to the crazy lady, and solemnly put it in his jacket pocket, and I'm confident he delivered it as requested.
But that wasn't all for that night -- Frank came out to sign after all, looking like a kid about to fall asleep in his Cheerios. I didn't need his autograph again, but I wanted to say hi, so I took my place at the back of the line -- and then I realized I needed to get his autograph, anyway. So I got to speak with the sweet man again, and once again, my brain took over and I sassed a member of the band -- this time impertinently asking Frank if he was going to go to bed next.
!!
I'm going to have to lock my Mother Hen self in my inner basement before I go to the next show! (But he did look so awfully tired, the poor thing...)
And now I'm in Kentucky, playing on the computer, eating catfish for the first time, risking my unsinged pagan hide by accompanying my folks to their Southern Baptist church yesterday (but it was worth it, my mother hugged me with tears in her eyes before we left the house. It means so very much to her to show me everything that is important about their life here in Kentucky, and voluntarily going with her to church the most important of all, it seems.)
I was afraid that I have left the road, but really, I just hopped out of the river for a moment. I've been sitting on the bank, sunning myself, listening to the birds, picnicking. In a few days, I'll slip back into the water and let the current sweep me along again, let the road beguile me and take me toward adventures I can only imagine right now.
There's magic out there.
Magic, and mystery. I am still being transformed, the journey is not complete. Each night I sit on the bed in the guest room (a reprieve from the couches and floors) and I still myself, I close my eyes and I raise my head to the night and my gods. Silent, grateful, heart wide and ready to embrace, I whisper my prayer.
"Open me to my life."
I am feasting on the abundance of it all.