SHARING THE SHOWS
Jerry Garcia’s birthday, August 1, also falls on International Childfree Day, which is a nice happy coincidence. And because I’m childfree by choice and have “off” during the summer, I was able to take a Monday night to see a local Grateful Dead cover band.
I rode the Red Line to the Hamilton (only five stops from my home). The first place was the bathroom. I had to walk down a super-long hallway that reminded me of that classic shot in Goodfellas where Ray Liotta walks Lorraine Bracco through the VIP entrance in the Copacabana (RIP, Mr. Sorvino). When I go to a show solo and don’t know anyone, the first few minutes are always awkward. But once the music starts, it doesn’t matter. And my first time at a venue is fun; this place had a very intricately designed floor and was more intimate than I originally anticipated. The dance floor was too. The setlist consisted of Dead classics. The band opened with “New Speedway Boogie,” which had a nice “Truckin’” tease. At that point, there were about five of us on the dance floor. But as the night went on and the libations continued to flow, more people joined. The audience consisted mostly of older Deadheads, most of whom I suspect toured with the original Grateful Dead and probably knew each other for years from going to DC shows. The nice thing about this scene is there’s a tribe of Deadheads in every year that get to know each other. New Paltz had it, Hampton Roads had it, and DC appears to have it. I saw a few familiar faces I’d seen at other shows and even met a few. Hunter, Ryan, Mickey, who I’d met the prior week at one of the Panic shows, and my favorite, a dude named Joe. This guy was wearing a Kix T-shirt (a glam rock band), and when the band busted out “China Cat,” he quoted “It goes to 11!” He also did that iconic “Freebird” yell before the encore. The highlight of the show for me was the remarkable jam the boys did on “St. Stephen”, part of which I had to send to Maggie (her fav). They also played “He’s Gone” (Johnny Mac’s fav), which is about the death of Mickey Hart’s Dad. Ryan asked me if I knew what the song was about. I mistakenly thought it was Bobby’s Dad, but he was cool about correcting me. I continue to learn Dead lore. During “Tennessee Jed,” I thought I heard a harmonica blaring from the audience. I turned around and saw an elderly gentleman blowing into one, to which I gave him a huge thumbs-up. And I thought Phish had the audience participation thing down; silly me! All in all, a great time, and it’s nice how shows can put things in perspective. I’ve had some feelings of disenchantment going on as they relate to work (nothing too major), but the show did help me to center some of those feelings. Of course, my favorite part, as an introvert, is winding down after the shows are done. I got to see all the Mets and Nats fans coming home from the game (Go Mets! We won!). I then munched out on those Tostitos Mark left for me when we stayed with me for his Phish show at MPP (thanks, Brodyssues!) while finishing Detroit Rock City, that comfort-food flick about kids trying to get to a Kiss concert.
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