It's a ballroom, but we don't have to dance.
A retelling of last night
I walked into the Bowery Ballroom last night at 8:02pm. I had never been before. Something about the air in there was just right. It felt like coming home after a long day, enveloped in comfort and familiarity.
The opener started at 8pm, so their first song was echoing in all corners of the place as I passed the bouncer and walked downstairs. It was the kind of song you love even on the first listen, as if you were listening to an old CD you found in your car. The sound was pervasive throughout the downstairs bar as I ordered a gin & tonic. It cost $10 (also known as free in New York). And it suddenly occurred to me that everyone in this place likes the same band as me.
I don’t go to the East Side very often anymore, but maybe I should. Maybe the grittiness is a reminder that things are not so clean cut all the time. That life is messy and unscheduled and unpredictable, but maybe that's fine. And when weird people talk to you on the sidewalk, you just have to cross the street.
While walking to the Bowery Ballroom, I spent some time looking over my shoulder to make sure no one was coming up to punch me in the face. That’s the newest trend here — punching strangers. I have a feeling that if I were to be punched anywhere, it would be in the Lower East Side outside the Bowery Ballroom.
I might be falling back in love with New York again. I’ve felt unsure recently about where we stand. It’s a bit like an abusive relationship — springtime is when the abuser apologizes and reminds you why you fell in love in the first place. The warm air tries to right all the wrongs of the bitter winter. And the new lack of depression makes even a simple walk to pick up coffee feel like the best day of your life.
I’ve lived here so long it’s almost a part of me now, like an invisible limb. I feel married to New York in a way — in the sense that I could leave if I had to, but I plan on staying forever unless some real betrayal happens.
I was at the Bowery Ballroom to see the band Augustana, which happens to be one of my favorite bands. The opener was called VeryGently. At the show, I spent most of my time upstairs leaning against a railing looking over the soundboard. I watched the opener and made conversation with the upstairs bartender. He seemed cool, mainly because he was tall and wearing a bucket hat. One of the guys in VeryGently was playing a bass guitar. He said he doesn’t usually play bass, but thought it would look cooler. I laughed out loud at that. They closed their set with a cover of “If It Makes You Happy” by Sheryl Crow.
I went back to the railing when Augustana came on. But now there was a guy standing next to me. He was wearing a letterman jacket and moving ever so slightly to the music. Something about him swaying in the dark made me want to say hello. So I thought of this scenario where I would ask him to hold my drink while I took off my jacket. But I decided to set my drink down precariously on the railing instead. Talking to strangers always breaks the spell anyway.
I went downstairs into the crowd for the rest of the set. They played “Boston,” “Sweet and Low,” and “Twenty Years” in the encore. Songs from 2006 and 2008. I still listen to them all the time. I love Augustana’s music. It makes me feel more like myself. I can’t listen to it at the office because it will start to peel away my layers and maybe I’ll be too much of a real person.
I saved my receipt from the bar to use as a bookmark. I like using random mementos as bookmarks. The receipt got a lip gloss stain while inside my wallet. My lip gloss always leaks, I don’t know how to stop it. But now when I look back at the receipt in five years, I will smile at the light pink stain. And I’ll remember the night I saw Augustana at the Bowery Ballroom when I wore pink lip gloss. I’ll remember being twenty-five and going to another concert alone.
Someone told me last week that I shouldn’t go to this concert alone because that would be sad. But I like going to concerts alone because I can be invisible. I don’t have to talk or put on any show. And I can really be myself or be anyone else because it doesn’t matter. It’s loud and dark and I can hide in plain sight. And I don’t have to dance (even if it is technically a ballroom). I can just stand and listen as my mind slips away.
The concert was an amazing use of my Tuesday night. I should really go there more often — I don’t even really care who’s playing because it’s only $25 for a ticket anyway. Basically free as far as concerts go. And because the drinks and ticket were essentially free, I bought a few T-shirts and a poster.
I got my poster signed after the show and I biked home one-handed so I could hold it without it creasing.