Ty's Elastica Adventure



Thanks to some nice guy on the net, I discovered that Elastica would indeed be coming to Ohio. Cleveland to be exact; a two and a half hour drive for me, but well worth it. I decided I'd go all out and do the groupie thing: arrive early and stay late, in hopes of meeting the band and getting autographs.

The day of the show, I nervously assembled all my gear for the trip: food, Elastica CD for signing, $4 pen, and other stuff. I was apprehensive about the ride. The last two times I drove to Cleveland, there were disasters. In January, my Chevette spun out on an icy bridge on the freeway, and then a blazer truck spun out behind me and shortened my car by a few feet, with me still in it. The car did not survive, but at least I did. After purchasing car number two, I set off one day to Cleveland, got 42 miles out, and then the engine overheated. It turned out that the engine had cracked; there was a hole in a piston, among other problems. So car number two got engine number two.

So I wanted to make sure that the car was ready for the trip. I had recently filled the tires with air. The coolant looked okay. Gotta check the oil. Hm, there's no oil on the dip stick. I add a quart. Still nothing on the dip stick. Another quart, and still nothing.

Now I'm getting worried. It's 2:30pm, and I wanted to leave at 3:30, but where has all my oil gone? I check the manual to make sure I'm sticking the oil in the right hole. No problem there. I call my family mechanic and tell him my woes. He tells me that the car could have been running with only one quart of oil in it. He tells me to put more in. By now I think that the woman at the local gas station, where I keep coming back for more and more oil, must be wondering what's going on. All these oil purchases is eating into my small pool of cash.

Quart number three goes in, and still nothing. Quart number four. (The engine is only suppose to hold five!) Finally it registers! On the dip stick, there is now a touch of oil sticking to the tip. I make yet another trip to the gas station to get one more quart. Even with quart number five, the oil is still low on the stick, but I decide to stop there. My word, it was running before I but these five in, after all. Where had all my oil gone, anyway? Well, hopefully the five quarts would get me to Cleveland.

I was running late now. I wouldn't be arriving at the show early, and so I wouldn't have that chance to try to meet the band. Maybe afterwards. My $4 pen was in my jacket pocket.

I head on down the road, and gee, does the engine sound better? I guess that profound lack of oil had been making it grumpy (I'm lucky it didn't die; I have no money for engine number three). The car seems okay. I arrive in Cleveland, and without too much trouble I locate Peabody's Down Under, in the Flats. It's 7:30. I head in, buy an ale, and move up to the stage. I'm in the second or third row of people standing by the stage. I strike up a conversation with another Elastica fan who came by himself. Among other things, we both acknowledge just how attractive we find Justine, the lead singer. He tells me he overheard other guys saying the same thing.

The opening band is okay, but it's quite clear we're all waiting for Elastica. I'm so glad that my car made it. Around 9:30, Elastica comes out. The members are dressed in black for the most part, matching their black guitars. They start up, and the crowd pushes forward. It was an all-age show, and there were a lot of teenagers, some as young as thirteen. Once the set began, the pushing and the moshing were relentless. I've experience worse, but this was too crowded to be fun. The band concentrates on playing. I'm by Annie. The guys around me try to get her attention. "Annie! Annie!". She seems flattered but too shy to acknowledge all this attention. Justine is playing away, smiling out into the crowd.

The moshing is giving me motion-sickness. There's no air, no room, and too much heat. I start to feel real bad, so I move off to the side. I still feel bad. In fact, I feel ill. The men's room is on the other side of the crowd, so I head for the main entrance instead. I think I'm going to throw up, so I guess I'll have to do it in the street. At the entrance, there's a stool so I sit down. I feel so bad I think I may pass out, so I try to muster the strength to get off the stool and onto the floor. Instead of blacking out, I stick my head in the trash can next to me and up comes beer number two and the remains of dinner. I'm doing this right in front of the staff, but they're leaving me alone.

Once my stomach was empty, I felt much better. I slowly make my way back up front, though I try to keep more clear of the moshing. The show is going great. They play "Waking Up", my favorite song of theirs. I jump and sway with the crowd.

By 10:30 they're done. I hang out with the guy I met, until they throw everyone out at 11. Outside, people are standing around. I slowly realize that the band's entrance into the club is out front, and a small crowd is gathering around it. Some people have paper and pen in hand. Right after the show I had gone to my car to get my CD and my pen. I'm ready. The band's bus is parked out front in clear view. So I hope that the band will indeed appear.

To my pleasant surprise, Donna pops out the door, and starts to sign autographs. She seems to be in no hurry. She signs my cd, I thank her; "cheers", she says to me. Golly gee. Not much latter, I see Justine and Annie inside, slowly heading for the door with a big entourage. I'm about the only one who notices, so I move over to the door. Annie comes out and steps to one side. She has a few guys around her, but most people are focused on Justine. She soon signs my cd; I thank her for coming here, and she says "we like it here". Wow, face to face with Justine. I'm right by Annie, and it's still just the same few guys by her, so I easily get her to sign. At this point I'm beginning to shiver, and am also a bit flustered. Annie doesn't seem to be getting much of a grip on the cd, so I hold it as well as she signs. My hands are shaking, and I'm a little excited because my hand is touching hers. Yep, I'm totally doing the groupie thing. I thank her and back away, almost backing into Donna, who's still standing around and chatting with people.

All of the band members are being very friendly and cordial. They all take the time to sign all the autographs for those that ask, and are quite willing to chat with those that have something they want to say. Justin, the male drummer, doesn't seem to be anywhere around, though. Once Justine, Annie, and Donna leave, I and another fellow begin to wonder where he might be. Then this other fellow spots him on the bus, standing up front with the road manager. So we wander over, and he comes out of the bus and signs for us. He seems quite peppy. I thank him and move on. Time to see if the car starts.

It's not turning over very well, but the car starts. Time to see if it will get me home. I watch the mile markers. 120 miles to home. 90 miles. 60 miles, and all seems well. 30 miles, and I'm getting excited. And who would have thought, but the car makes it the whole way. I give the car a pat in thanks. Tomorrow I begin my oil watch.

All that was left to do was type up the whole story.


Tycerium



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