Kings of the Road

Most of you know that the Old 97’s are my favorite band ever. I’ve been listening to them since 1998, when I first picked up their cd Fight Songs while in college in Bloomington, Indiana. They are one of the only bands that I never get sick of–I could listen to their songs on repeat every second of every day, and never grow tired. Seriously. And I adore Rhett Miller, the lead singer, so very much. Just ask my husband. (don’t be jealous, honey.) Larry claims that I turn into a 16 year-old girl when I am within a few hundred yards of Rhett. I can’t help it. He is just so…dreamy. And smart. And talented. And so very Rhett. Sigh.

You can only imagine my bursting-with-fruit-flavor excitement when I learned that they were playing a show in Baltimore at the Artscape Festival!

Larry and I went with our friend Greg, who I hope is now an Old 97’s fan for life. We spent the afternoon before the show in Fells Point, Baltimore, hanging out at and drinking some great beer at Max’s and some other tiki bar. We even had, um, drinks that rhyme with “far toms”. (Only my second time ever having one, and I managed to keep it down.)

The big show started at 8:30 pm, but somehow we kind of miscalculated the time and we ended up running through the festival stands and the hordes of people to get to the stage. I could hear Rhett and Murry playing in the distance, and I didn’t even notice that we were running up a hill. I was simply concentrating on one thing: the Old 97’s.

We sort of shoved our way to the front, but really, I’m their number one fan and it just didn’t look like those other people really cared if we stood in front of them. Obviously, because that’s why they left just enough room for the three of us to squeeze in.

The show was so freaking good. They played some of my favorite songs. Actually, I love all of the songs except one. (Sorry, Ken, but I hate Coahuila. You should stick to guitar-playing. “I turned my microwave on and cooked my chicken ravioli” is not a good song lyric.) Thanks for not playing Coahuila.

After the show, we hung out around the side of the stage, waiting to see if we could meet the band. Ken the guitar player was there, and I tried to say hi, but he only seemed to want to talk about football with some dude. He did not notice me or my assets. (My big green eyes, duh.) We did not see Rhett, either, but that’s ok…I would have probably just started drooling or maybe even fainted if I had actually met him.

We finished the night with dessert at Vaccaro’s. It was such a perfect day. Except for the mob of lesbians. But that’s another story. group of hot lesbians dancing in front of us at the concert. They were blocking my view of Rhett.