Did any of you know that way, way back in April, I went to a Fall Out Boy show in Vancouver? I DID. IT WAS MAGICAL. I felt more fifteen on that day than I did when I really was fifteen. This may have been because I was blasting Taylor Swift all the way from Horseshoe Bay to UBC.

It was a surreal drive. I zipped down Thurlow and cruised along Cornwall and drove like Ryan "Grandma" Ross past the speed trap on 4th. It was like I'd slipped back to 2001 when I was living at home with my parents and slogging through my last year of university. Four weeks ago, when I hung that final left into the campus proper, I could almost imagine that my friends were waiting for me in a McLeod computer lab, exhausted and wired and ready to sing Billy Joel songs while coding the night away.

But the bus loop was in an entirely new place, there were unfamiliar buildings where there used to be open sky and no one was waiting for me at all. Because I am thirty and my friends were not about to shell out $150+ for early entry FOB tickets with me. Unbelievable! Why bother even having a grown-up job if you're not going use your hard-earned cash to fund little Bronx's future psychotherapy? I texted catechism to look less like a friendless loser and more like a friendless loser with a phone.

me: I am at the FOB concert! It is lonely. I am tempted to ask the girl beside me about her clan bag. Pete Wentz forever!
pam: Do that! Make friends!
me: I made some friends! But they were all time low fans so they left me for meet and greet.

[All Time Low fans! I did not know there was such a thing. And they even had their own little M&G. Even better, though, these particular ATL fans were also hugely into Hey Monday -- in fact, HM and ATL were the only two bands on the roster that they were there to see. AMAZING.]

As it turned out, I really was the only person in all of Vancouver who wanted to pay through the nose for the guarantee of a front row spot. Maybe this was because the general lineup wasn't really so bad? I guess I'd been expecting something more along the lines of Panic's HCT show in Chicago last year, where the line stretched back at least 5 blocks. At any rate, there were only four of us in the early entry line: me, two girls who got EE through the fanclub, and a woman who bought M&G for her teenager and somehow ended up with an early entry wristband. I chatted with the mother for a bit, but it was obvious that my heart was with the girls, one of whom was wearing giant glasses made of glowsticks. Both were singing and dancing their hearts out to all the FOB songs playing on the outdoor speakers. I bopped demurely and grinned a lot. As soon as the doors opened, the three of us ditched the mom to run like lunatics through Thunderbird Arena.

Unfortunately, the arena is brand new and none of us had any idea where we were supposed to go. We tried four different times to get from the main level onto the arena floor. We could *see* people standing beside the stage, but we just could not find any stairs that went all the way down. The stands were full of arena employees watching us as we veered around wildly, practically bouncing off the railings and getting more and more frantic, but they offered NO ADVICE. Mostly they just stood there like Terminators in stand-by mode. Finally we ran halfway around the building, our flat-soled chucks slapping down loudly in the deserted halls, and descended the main staircase with hysterical glee.

It's entirely possible that the mom beat us there, just by virtue of being less deranged.

me: Why do you not reply? I am on the barricade. It is cold. I need to pee. Doom.
pam: Sorry! I am drinking and, actually, telling everyone how awesome you & canada are. I seem to be convincing them! When does the show start?
me: I have no idea. Apparently the opening band only got here at 5 pm. Yay canada! Also me.

[Before they abandoned me, my ATL friends brought me up to date on all the news: Cobra was sick and not playing; Hey Monday got stranded in Seattle for most of the day.]

We staked out our barricade territory and settled in for the long wait. I immediately wished I had a beer. Then I realized that Metro Statio is the band Trace Cyrus is in and I wished I had twelve beers and a litre of vodka.

me: Pam, i think these security dudes are younger than i am. Disconcerting.
pam: Man. I am at K's birthday party. I am old.
me: AHAHAHAHA! I am surrounded by middle schoolers. I feel on the brink of DEATH.

There was not much to do while waiting. Someone mentioned the recession. (Pete, your anvilicious appeals are working -- the fans are paying attention to current events!) We then tried to make friends with the security people. One girl gave... Dale? Dave? whatever, the slightly older, more responsible looking one some cash to go buy her a water. He did. He also shared out his own water bottle to about five people who made grabby hands at him. This is before the lights even went down. Other security guy to Dale: This is going to be a bad scene. Other security guy -- let's call him Steve -- then told a story about how his buddy just got his gf pregnant, so Steve invited him over to get wasted. While Steve's own little daughter was sleeping in the next room because he was on parenting duty that night. DRUNK PARENTING DUTY, APPARENTLY. Oh god, the kids are not okay! Not the ones who are having the babies or the ones being the babies.

pam: Drunk parenting is all the rage in the u.k.! I think there are mushrooms in this shepherd's pie. I am closing my eyes and thinking of england as i swallow.
me: How do you know this about the u.k.? I want to subscribe to their newsletter.
pam: My sister told me! She was appalled by the drunken PTA picnics.
me: Picnics! That's the middle of the day! OMG lights off!

And then Hey Monday played. Cassadee's outfit was typically atrocious (vest-type thing, legging-type things, confusing layers), but her voice was as good as promised and I even recognized a couple songs. She played an acoustic guitar for one slow song about candles and bopped around like a little bunny rabbit on speed for the rest. She also explained why their bus got to the venue so late. Their driver never showed up for work and they found him all strung out in his room, having done some bad drugs (her words) the night before. I guess there was maybe some vomit and other bodily fluids involved? They fired his ass. She was pretty upbeat about it, turning it into some good stage banter, but it just reminded me of how weird it is, growing up and starting to make in in the real world and discovering that the adults around you do not have their shit together and they fuck up all the time, often screwing you over in the process. I hope she writes a pop-punk song about this poignant coming-of-age moment. Vomit metaphors compulsory.

The lowest point of their set was when Pete came on to sing with her. WHY, PETE, WHY?

me: Have survived first band. Hips crushed. Hospital close by, luckily.
me: I am about to see the band with hannah montana's brother in it. Pity me.
pam: What the fuck.
me: Bandom leads to tragic circumstances, pam. TRAGIC.
pam: You have brought it upon yourself!

*sigh* Truer words.

Metro Station. Christ. I hope to god Trace was drunk, because if he is that obnoxious while sober he needs to be put into a medically-induced coma for the good of all humankind. He seemed to have about eight guitars, none of which he actually played. He wore them between songs, and swung them around during songs, and threw them in the air at the end of songs, but very rarely did I see any actual strumming happening. He somehow went through more picks than all the rest of the bands put together, though. I think maybe he was eating them.

I am still not sure what role Trace plays in the band, other than resident Asshole Attention Whore. Aside from playing the occasional chord, he also "sang", but he would interrupt every single song, in the middle of his own part, to yell "VANCOUVER!" for no apparent reason. Like, OK, I know it's exciting when you're on tour to once in a blue moon get a concrete handle on exactly where and when you are currently existing (see: Vancouver bc (pacific time) - today is saturday, april 11) but coming in your pants over it every five minutes is possibly indicative of a dangerous short term amnesia problem. And also maybe premature ejaculation.

If you could look past the Trace issue, though, the rest of the band didn't seem so awful. The guy who does all the competent singing, Mason, seemed like a solid, not untalented dude. Unfortunately, Trace never let me look away for long. Metro Station is basically what FOB would be if Pete railroaded every show by singing over Patrick for half the songs and spending the rest of his time doing an elongated striptease of blinding horror.

me: He pulled up his shirt. Trauma. Also their first song: i wish you were older.
pam: Aahahahha!

15 minutes later
me: He took off his shirt entirely. I watched like a train wreck. He has the body of Ryan Ross.

All the fourteen year old girls around me claimed to hate Metro Station and only know the words to "that one song." LIES. They sang along to everything. But it turned out I totally knew that one song myself. SHAKE IT.

Fortunately, once Trace's shirt came off I guess he figured that was the pinnacle of the performance and they all left the stage shortly after. Maybe this is just the kind of band that forms when two stage mothers meet on a Disney movie set and decide to set their useless, non-actor kids up on a cute little jam session date?

pam: Are you going to be able to hear tomorrow? You should be sending me pictures!
me: Hear, yes. Walk, no. I will take you pictures of FOB. Maybe. I might be busy weeping tears of joy.
pam: One emo tear!
me: The security guys just embraced! Well, one cracked the other's back. Still! It is the most exciting thing they've done!
pam: You should try to talk them into making out.

Next up, All Time Low! The kids sure love 'em. I mostly just wanted to live through them. The amount of sideways pressure on the barricade was incredible. Why did the girl on my right have to be so fashionably thin? Her hip bone was a knife of pain sawing into my bones. Also I still had to pee (as I had first mentioned to Pam over two hours earlier).

I amused myself by staring at the fairly adorable bass player in front of me. He was in his gym strip and sometimes he played a pink instrument. Also he had feathers on his shoes:



Observe the two guys high-fiving in the background. Hee.

Because Cobra was down for the count, the bands each had a little extra time so ATL tried to take an audience request. Someone yelled out for a blow job song and the singer, Alex, got another guy in the band to make up one on the spot; it was pretty terrible and segued into Sublime, I think. And they also covered a Blink-182 song, which was great because I could finally sing along! They played Dammit, or, as I think of it, "Well I guess this is growing up." Alex made us all howl at the moon like wolves a bunch of times, I forget why, and he called FOB the Fall Out Babies. Ahahahaha, sorry, I find that hilar. He himself is like 12.

pam: D says he wants to go curling with me!
me: D is a huge sucker. We are waiting for the main event! I am quite sleepy sleepy.
pam: D says that since you are at a FOB concert, you cannot call him a sucker.
me: I can and i have! So suck it, D.
pam: He has no comeback.

Finally Fall Out Boy came on. First, the obligatory photo to indicate how fabulously close I was:



You all know the drill by now for this show: sirens, riot gear, suits, bad wigs. It was honestly a little underwhelming because a Pete who's acting like a straightlaced fuckhead is, frankly, really boring. I did get a little overexcited when I saw that Patrick's face looked realistically scratched up and I immediately thought BACKSTAGE FISTFIGHT! But of course it was just part of the makeup. Clearly, I have read way too many stories about escalating Pete/Patrick sexual tension.

Once the playacting was over the show got more energetic. Joe and his hair were in fine form, locks tossing in the air quite gloriously. Pete opened up the banter a bit. Andy... was there? Sorry, I pretty much just basked in the sight and sound of Patrick. He was RIGHT IN FRONT OF ME. So great.

Cassadee came out to sing with Patrick on Sugar, and then at the end she gave Pete and Patrick both hugs before skipping off. Super adorable.

In honour of the absent Gabe, FOB played (the beginning of) an old Midtown song, Just Rock and Roll, and Alex from ATL sang the lyrics. He was reading them off a sheet of paper on the stage -- I could see it from where I stood. Guess Gabe didn't give them a lot of warning when he decided to get sick and spend the day in the hospital. After, Pete had us give it up for Alex, and give it up for Midtown and then Pete made a sobering confession: "I almost gave it up to Midtown one night. It's a dark story. It goes in places I don't wanna talk about. It was in a closet in New Jersey."

Before She's My Winona Patrick taught us to sing "whoa" and also talked about his glasses. (Oh god, do not listen to the part where we are trying to sing, though. Unless you want to hear Pete say that this song is about BABIES.)

Patrick: I look like a teacher, right? This is the first time I've ever worn glasses on stage, ever. By the way. It's of minor importance.
Pete: You look smarter now.
Patrick: I *am* smarter now. As soon as I put 'em on I got smarter.

And then after that there was something about... fishsticks? Honestly, I have no idea. I didn't catch it at the time and YouTube is not helping me out here. Sounded like an inside joke, maybe. Patrick said he didn't see where Pete was going with it, but he was almost laughing.

They ended with Saturday, of course, which is when I was OVERCOME by Pete Wentz. He licked his bass and then later ditched it, along with his jacket, to do some hot girl dancing all over the stage. Then he lifted his shirt and pressed his sweaty chest against Patrick's back while a tech fiddled with his wiring -- presumably in preparation for his ridiculous foray into the crowd. I THOUGHT HE WAS GOING TO FALL ON MY FACE. I swear to god I only touched him out of self-defense. Mostly. At least 65% save-myself instinct, maybe 35% OMG PETE WENTZ IS ALMOST STANDING ON MY HEAD, MUST TOUCH LEG:



That is him. It is hard to tell, but if you look closely you can see the tattoos.

Then I think Pete ended his last Saturday scream and sent us all off with "Thank you very much and have a safe night." Oh Pete. You're turning into my dad. Buckle up!

me: Holy fuck that was worth it. Also i touched pete wentz. That was mostly accidental.
pam: No one here is impressed. Except me. Nice!

The next week, The Georgia Straight ran a review of the show and in their photo you can actually see my tiny, enraptured face!



[Note: None of the linked images or vids were shot by me -- only the embedded ones are from my crappy camera phone. Oh, and also the last embedded one is obvs not mine either. The other stills are from a vegan, straightedge guy who met up with Andy in Seattle and travleled up to see the Vancouver show with them on one of their buses (check out how pristine that bus is!). The vids are from various people's YouTubes.]