Hello, all.
Jill and I have just returned from one of our most polarizing experiences (I'll explain polarizing shortly). We went to the Coldplay concert at the Clark County Amphitheater in Ridgefield where our faces were melted all over the lawn by Chris Martin and company's piano riffs and laser light shows (think epileptic seizure--but in a good way). And now many of you might be saying, "well, isn't Coldplay a band that homosexuals, republicans, and teenage girls listen to," and I'm here to tell you that stereotype is completely unfounded. I dare any of you naysayers to say you wouldn't be sucked in by an acoustic version of Billie Jean on the mandolin. I'll document our concert experience in a time-log, as is popular among journalists these days.
3:20: Concert starts in 4 hours. Gotta get there before everyone else, because I'm extremely competitive in large group situations in which there's nothing at stake (a fault, not a virtue). Uh, oh. Stuck behind 43 SUVs with tinted windows in Friday traffic, all going to Coldplay.
4:00: Uh, the Clark County Amphitheater has one restaurant within 10 miles, and it looks like one of those "out in the country" places you see at the beginning of an action movie where everybody gets shot by a guy in a leather jacket (I think there was a juke-box playing George Strait).
4:30: I've just eaten the saltiest Clam Chowder I've ever had. Jill has a grilled cheese sandwich. I ask the waitress, "You're probably busy on concert nights." She responds "yes" with a look that tells me, "thanks for reminding me my life sucks."
5:00: We park with a line of mini-vans and SUVs. I quickly realize there are going to be 18,000 middle-class white people at this concert. I see their market-research department has been smart in choosing Portland (one of the least diverse cities in the nation).
I look back at where we've driven in, and realize we're parked in the farthest lot from the escape route (foreshadowing). I quickly do the math, and realize there's probably 12,000 cars for 18,000 people, all of which will be trying to get out on a two lane road. I get that icy I'm-in-too-deep fear, like when a person's talking about children on the second date.
5:30: We stand in line with the rest of the "lawn-seating" crowd. We're ready to run to our land stakes and squat for all our worth. I tell Jill, "let's not run for our spot" as if my dignity is above that. We both know that we're running and diving to grab a lawn-spot as if it's a gold claim. Jill makes me pop my collar to shield the sun. Suddenly, a videographer crew starts filming and tells us to make "fan-screams." Oh great, I'm going to be on a Coldplay dvd, my dumb 6 foot 6 inch head with a popped collar floating above everyone else's hair. Somebody will watch that DVD and say, "Coldplay fans pop their collars; they're so annoying."
6:00: Gates are released. Hope we don't trip, or we'll get trampled. It's like Wal-mart at Christmas. We both start running.
7:00: Waiting; waiting.
9:00: Finally done waiting. The loudspeakers start blasting a U2 song; everybody stands up.
9:15: Still waiting; What the eff? They teased us like dangling a piece of chocolate cake above a fat, hypoglycemic kid who's pinned down.
9:15: Finally, they start blasting the light show and "Life in Technicolor" This concert is going to be incredibly loud. Very nice intro.
10:00: Great concert! These guys know how to put on a show. I can tell, because the marijuana starts blazing around us (I guess it's dark enough). People are looking to get the best of the crazy lights. They play "Yellow," and kick a bunch of giant yellow balls around the crowd. "Let's get some for the back!" Chris Martin yells. An updraft takes them right over the wall before anyone can touch them.
10:30: They head out into the crowd to play a techno-set on electronic drums and keyboard. Chris Martin does a solo "The Hardest Part." He says, "This is where I pretend to be Justin Timberlake and realize I need to crawl back to my band." I can smell the humility melting female hearts.
10:45: They come to an upper stage in the lawn section about 50 feet from us. People begin rushing the stage; Jill and I are thinking the same thing: if we leave our blanket we're never going to find it again in the dark. Acoustic "Billie Jean" comes out along with an 18,000 person cell phone wave. Chris Martin rouses the crowd by saying we're "f--cking awesome." When rock stars cuss, people go nuts, which would be beneficial in battle. Chris Martin: "Go get those f--cking guys with your bayonets!" Everybody would go.
11:00: Getting close to the finale. Chris Martin says, "this is where I say something about the town we're in. I heard you don't have sales tax. Is that true?" Audible groan as the people from Vancouver get pissy over being counted as Portlandians. Out comes the video montage for "Osaka Sun." Confetti being dispersed into the crowd. Several high people are still looking for their blankets and stuff. I can tell Jill wants to use her teacher voice: "Well, what did you learn from this situation?" (don't smoke and run the stage is the correct answer).
11:15: Concert over (except for the inevitable finale). Sometimes, I just wish bands would stay out on the stage without the long cheering. Everybody knows there's a finale. It's kind of like when your pushover mom said "maybe I"ll buy you that candy if you're good," and you knew it was going to happen whether you were good or not. "Mom, let's forgo the formalities and get this candy, alright? I don't have time for this."
11:30: It's over, and people are filing out. I enjoy having a tall head in this case as we're butts to nuts in this place. Somebody does the inevitable and moos. "Ha ha, we're like cattle." Hmmm, never heard that one before. We get a free CD at the gates, and it's time to hit the road (yeah right)
11:30-1:45: Here's finally where the foreshadowing pays off. It takes us 1 hour and 45 minutes to move from our spot 100 yards to the parking exit. I really hope whoever engineered the parking in this place doesn't still have a job in architecture. It's like trying to funnel 45 gallons of water through a partially clogged straw. I spend most of the 2 hours looking around wildly like a trapped beast, seeing how I can cheat the system. There's no cheating in this game.
1:45: We get into a closed third lane and cut about half-way in line. When I merge, the car behind me gives me the "wait your effing turn" look, and I give him the "Oops, I didn't know this lane was closed" shoulder shrug. If ever there's a demonstration for human nature at its worst, just look to clogged parking lots where people will kill over a merging...
2:30: We're home, but what a show. Best concert I've been to, and the fan-friendliest band. Next time, I'm going to skydive into the stadium, and fake a seizure so I can get Air-lifed out (Insurance covers that, right).
Until next time, folks.
J and J
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