Made it to Mammoth. The sky is clear and blue. Temperature borderline between wearing a sweatshirt for the hike I'll take when this is written, or just going in shirtsleeves. A few too many people for my taste, but this is peak season. I just need to abide.
I took a little detour on my way here. The plan was to leave Tuesday, board the dogs, then spend a few relaxing days writing in Mammoth while waiting for the team. Calene's in South Dakota so my time is my own.
Source: Nugs.net
But I've been itching to do something impulsive and figured now is a good time. So instead of driving straight to Mammoth, I drove to LAX and hopped a flight for London. Springsteen was playing at Wembley and I wanted to feel what it's like to stand in the pit at a European show.
Everything fell into line: got the upgrade, found a nice price on a concert ticket, booked my favorite hotel at a good rate (everyone's in Paris for the Olympics. London hotels are cheap right now).
It's thrilling to throw caution to the wind and launch into an impulsive adventure. I carried on, traveled light, wrote on the plane, then went to the show the day after I landed. I don't need to describe iconic Wembley, or what it was like to be in a sea of people who sang along with EVERY WORD. This is my tribe. I was right where I was supposed to be.
I'll admit I wasn't loving life in the pit at first. People stand very close. My feet hurt from standing up for eight hours (pre-show and show). I like to sing along but I was self-conscious because I am not a good singer and the guy in front of me was so close that I was basically shouting in his ear.
But about an hour in, during the first strains of "Youngstown," a drunk guy holding a large beer came shoving through on his way to the stage. About 25, muscular. Everyone around me was afraid of him and at the same time very angry. Some pushing and shoving. Lots of yelling.
Somehow the guy ended up right next to me with nowhere to go. He looked lost, as if trying to find his friends. He looked right at me, as if I could help. I was wary but not afraid.
Man, I had a few of those lost moments back in my early twenties. I would have killed for someone to help me find my way. I don't know what made me do it, but I put my arm around him, made sure he didn't spill his beer on the people around us (or me), talked to him in that language only the very drunk understand, and defused the situation with kindness. He kept looking to me for answers and I just held on to him and talked to him like a friend.
He curled his fist around mine in a left-handed bro handshake (the right hand still clutching his beer, of which he did not spill a drop), then a medical team in the crowd came and led him away. Suddenly, everyone around me was saying thank you, right in the middle of Nils Lofgren's "Youngstown" solo.
Life is funny. We were now connected, thanks to that lost drunk guy clutching his beer like a safety blanket. For the next two and a half hours we were the best of friends. Best of all, that guy in front of me moved away in the fracas and I now had tons of personal space. Italian guy to my right, Spanish woman in front of me, a guy from India and his family — all singing along and pumping our fists. I was so into the show. The words I've heard a thousand times (and many more) felt new. My little adventure was worth it.
Got to Mammoth yesterday. Team arrives in about four hours. It's been one hell of a great week.