'I'm gonna go commit some petty crime ... I mean, buy some smokes ... I mean, smoke a cigarette while committing petty crimes. Yeah.' by Kara
Tuesday, August 12, 2008 at 10:00 AM

So since I was feeling so uncertain about my general health, I chose to take the train up to Baltimore early Thursday to get in around 3 PM and meet up with folks. The ride itself was fine ... getting off the train ... not so much. I got shoved by a guy rushing to get off, and had a suitcase dropped on my foot. And said foot slipped out from under me as I was exiting, so the accompanying leg slid between the train and the platform. Naturally, said injury does not go well with a con that's half about walking. But I lived. (And I've seen a doctor about it. I'm-a be fine.)

I met up with Mike Dent, Tyler Walderman, and Gerald Rathkolb (my hosts for the evening) at the convention centre, got our badges, hit the room, and then rushed out to the Thursday night Tropic Thunder screening. It occurs to me that I really should leave such coverage to their own podcasts, but hell. It was a good night out, and I even ended up finding my old college roomie Kris at the theatre. Brilliant shit. Daryl Surat was also in the room that night ... he would've been sooner if we hadn't sort of locked him out completely accidentally Daryl we are actually quite sorry.

Friday morning I went to about one panel, then we went and found Co-Writer and attended to business there. It was a bit of wandering ... okay, a lot of wandering ... for the rest of the day before the JAM Project concert.

Yeah. The concert. My leg was killing me, my head was killing me, but the whole bloody point was the concert. As long as I got to that, I didn't care what else I had to go through. And clearly Someone Up There was testing me on that.

I could cover the concert if I wanted to ... but how can I? Well, I'm sure Co-Writer could, as he's better at that sort of thing. As I described it to someone: I sat down, and awesome things happened at me.

Well, awesome and un-awesome. I knew the lights were going to be killer, but as we were watching the convert videos beforehand that they were using to tease us, I realised ... oh boy ... this one was going to be extra-special. I had sunglasses, and Co-Writer had better ones if I needed them. Which I did.

And I survived. The whole. Damn. Thing. I was determined to, granted. That was the whole bloody point of the pre-weekend stress. I knew it was going to be damned awesome. I was still overwhelmed by the damned awesomeness of it (but I really don't think anyone could conceive of that level of awesome, no matter how hard they tried). Honestly, when the band came out onstage, I thought I was going to break down crying. I kept thinking, 'You did it. You are here. You are finally doing something you really want to in spite of everything you're afraid of happening, in spite of feeling guilty about inconveniencing friends, in spite of God knows what else.' And what a thing for that to be.

Yeah. I woulda busted out crying if I hadn't been screaming so loud when those five came out onstage. And, you know, the whole thing. We all were. Whole damn row of us. And we probably annoyed everyone else around us. I HOPE WE DID.

I don't go to many concerts, so I don't think it's fair to say I've never been so excited about a band before. Well, okay I was massively psyched about m.o.v.e. Incredibly so. But even that didn't stack up to this. I mean, trying to explain to my family how big a deal this was, I said that even they have heard music by at least one of their members. That is how out-there their stuff is, individually and as a group. I don't know how to describe what it is about their music. I've been having a hard time getting it across to non-fans over the past couple days. So I've just decided I can't and they'll have to hear it for themselves. What a horrible fate.

Anything else I say will just be pointless gushing in a feeble attempt to convey what it was like. And I can't. I have decided that it is impossible.

Okay. No. I've got it. I was more psyched about seeing this band perform than I was about meeting Robin Williams. Has that done it for you? Good.

I will say that by the end of the concert, I was about the second most torn-up I've ever been since the car accident that started this nonsense. Co-Writer did, however, grab me and inform the camera (brought out so we could leave messages for the band) that I love Masaaki Endoh. Which is true.

So, rather embarrassed, I allowed myself to be supported out, caught up with my new roommate, and had an unpleasant night in the room.

I'd done what I set out to do. Time to go home.

So the next morning, I called Amtrak to get my ticket switched from Sunday to Saturday. There was only one train outta there ... and it cut into JAM's autograph session. So I was gonna have to choose either way: stay an extra night and risk getting worse so I could meet them, or miss seeing these people I wanted to see so much ... so much ... face to face and get better sooner.

I hate being a grownup sometimes. Because I chose the latter. And no one blamed me.

Tyler was, however, an utter gentleman and got them to sign my tour shirt, and I think I shall owe him for that for, erm, at least a fair bit of time. And Mike and Gerald found me an Urashiman Roman Album, which is apparently my pay for the scant work I did over the course of the weekend. I am jealous, burningly and painfully so, of the people who got to go up to JAM face to face and thank them. But it's a choice I made. Not one I'm happy about, but one that was safer. I don't think I'll ever stop hating that that's how it was, though.

Fortunately, the train ride back was safe and uneventful. And I got hope, played some of the Top o Nerae! PS2 game that Co-Writer talked me into buying. (And he'll say he didn't have to do much to convince me, but he's a Bad Influence and don't ever let him tell you otherwise.)

And yesterday I did follow-ups with various doctors, and I guess in a week I'm gonna be stabilised again. But I've said this in so, so many places already.

I. REGRET. NOTHING.

It doesn't matter that I had to catch myself a few times during the concert and all but collapsed afterward. I don't regret it, and I never will. It was fuckoff amazing. I had people looking out for me so I wouldn't have to be (as) worried about myself. (Thank you, thank you, thank you thank you thank you. There is no way to repay that. Ever.) And I don't know. The fact that it's something I managed to do makes it all the better in my mind.

This is assuming you can make JAM Project better. Not a statement I'm entirely willing to make. Because I would be lying. Instead, have this.

It may not be from our show, but at least you can get the idea.

If you have been ... whew.