It all started when I woke up at the crack of mid afternoon one day in late May. There was a text message on my phone from Alicia saying something along the lines of, "I just got fourth row seats to Tom Waits. Want to go to Ohio?" I'm very glad I said yes. It was one of, if not the, best shows I've ever been to. But in addition to the concert itself, the occasion called for a random adventure to Ohio and a meandering journey home with extra time for diversions like Grandpa's Cheese Barn.
For those of you who know me, you'll note that I generally sleep somewhere between the hours of 6 AM and 1 PM. So when the time of departure was set at 4 in the morning on the Saturday of the show I had grand plans of getting out of work Friday night and cramming a few hours of sleep into my night before we left. But alas, I failed at sleep. I was too pumped about the show and the trip so I made some more CDs for the road.
We hit the road and soon enough it was time for breakfast. In my world, if you are at McDonalds during breakfast hours then you are probably up too late. No matter what you select off of a McDonalds breakfast menu after a night of not sleeping, it is going to kill you. Trying to prevent future horrible illness I passed on the McGriddles and went with the gold standard McMuffin, the lesser of the two diuretic evils. Follow that up in a few hours with car-warmed cookies and you have a potential recipe for disaster. But luckily I'm fueled by stupidity and I'm utterly hardcore so I made it to Ohio A-OK! I thrive on Bad Idea Fuel.
Speaking of "udderly hardcore" (which we weren't) we saw a crap ton of cows, which informed part of the road trip rules. Alicia needed to "moo" at every cow sighting or suffer some sort of undefined, self-imposed penalty. I'm not really sure why she had to moo or what the consequence would be if she didn't, but I'm glad we didn't need to find out. A missed moo could have ended in decapitation for all we know. She was right on top of those moos, though. We were also able to find out what kind of noise Pennsylvania farmers make while they drive their tractors. They say, "AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH."
On the way to and from Ohio, every cow was "mooed" at, every horse was "nayed" at, every farmer in a tractor was "AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHed" at, and every EZ pass toll was met with a two-person round of cheers and a The Face into the nearest surveillance camera. As the journey continued and we passed across the PA line we saw one of the greatest signs ever constructed by mankind:
This picture isn't of the first actual sign we saw for this Heaven on Earth for those inclined to destroy something, but you get the point. I believe the first sign we saw was all the same font and merely said without any punctuation, "FIREWORKS KARATE SUPPLY." We made a mental footnote to return to this explosively dangerous place on our homeward journey. Right now we were on our way to see Tom Waits. And we didn't want to keep . . . Tom . . . Wait . . ing . . . (I'm so sorry).
I have to admit by the time we arrived in Ohio, I was dead. And I wasn't even driving so I can only imagine how Alicia was feeling. We checked into the motel which was located next to a really seedy looking Mexican restaurant and across the road from Arby's. I think both places served the same horse meat. We needed to eat and opted for the Arby's since I was suspicious of the not-quite-midget taking his cigarette break outside of the Mexican place. He was up to no good if you ask me.
I was still feeling rough from the cocktail of no sleep, McMuffins, and cookies so I figured what could Arby's possibly do to alter the equation at this point? Barely an Arby's meal later, I was asleep in the motel room for an hour or two to recharge my batteries next to a night stand littered with uneaten seasoned curlies and ketchup packets. That little bit of sleep was all I needed. I was completely ready for the show and to fend off any attacks from the murderous elderly couple residing in the room next door. I think they may have been in cahoots with the not-so-midgety-guy from the Mexican eatery.
Onward to Columbus!
What a classy marquee to greet the many concert goers who were already lined up for a block when we arrived. We nabbed our spot in line amidst the multi-generational crowd of mostly hipster folks. Everybody seemed pretty excited and they should have been. I didn't know it at the time, but the show had sold out in about three minutes. We were all lucky to have tickets.
When we got into the theater, which had the most polite ushers I have ever encountered in my life, we were brought to our seats. "Fourth row" as a concept hadn't fully sunk into my brain until I was sitting there. We were so unbelievably close to the stage. We were the first ones in our section so it was really fun to see each new audience member get to his or her seat and go through the same series of reactions:
1) holy bananas, these seats are great
2) wow, what a great theater
3) I'm even a little more excited now than I was a few minutes ago
4) congratulatory nods and handshakes all around
The theater (or "theatre") seemed like the perfect place to stage this show. The stage setup consisted of a wall of old rusty looking megaphone and phonograph speakers with a littered display of instruments strewn about the stage. In the middle was a raised platform where Tom Waits would soon be. It looked like something from a 1920s traveling side show or a carnival's junkyard. But the theater itself seemed like it should host vaudeville acts that very rarely get ribald enough to offend anybody's delicate sensibilities. So the combination of those two elements, the classy and the trashy, made for a great environment and a perfect fit for something called "Glitter and Doom."
There was no opening act, so when the lights lowered everyone got excited. People applauded at the dark shapes walking onto the stage. When the music started and the lights came on I was immediately struck by Tom Waits' incredible stage presence. I don't think it was just me, either. He exuded something intangible as he hunched over his microphone. He seemed larger than life as he stomped his Frankenstein-ish boots into his little stage, kicking up clouds of dust in the yellow lights. It all felt surreal, both by design and by his naturally unsettling demeanor. I didn't even recognize the first song (Lucinda) at the time but I already knew the whole show was going to be special. That's one of the elements that made the show so good. They did different arrangements of most of the songs. You are experiencing something unfamiliar no matter how many times you have listened to the albums.
For two and a half hours Tom Waits shouted and yelled and crowed with all his energy. He played the part of preacher, comedian, carnival barker, and general weird old man. In the past few years he has really turned into the weird old guy he's been wanting to be for decades. He sang the hell out of each and every song. The band was really good too. They were all multi-instrumentalists, as far as I could tell, with the most versatile being the brass/wind player.
It's hard to pick out highlights. The whole show was pretty great. And that's not a cop out or excuse to not write more (since I obviously enjoy a good ramble). It was a really, really good show. I wouldn't have minded hearing some more stuff from Rain Dogs but that is only a minor qualm. It's like wishing there were more leftovers after an awesome Thanksgiving dinner. You enjoyed it thoroughly but still wish there was even more. A little greedy, I guess.
It's interesting how much a performer's personality adds to a stage show. There weren't many props, just the stage setting and his wild gesticulating and contorting while he belted out the songs. He would occasionally use a megaphone to shout into the microphone which contributed both audibly and visually to the whole scenario. During "Eyeball kid" he used a sequined bowler hat to great effect, turning his head into a disco ball, reflecting beams of light into the crowd. It's hard to describe. Just take my word for it that it was awesome.
The best review I can give is that he could have kept playing indefinitely and I still would have sat there, contentedly. But I think the timer on which they based the duration of the show was Tom Waits' sweat stain trajectory. If the tour dates were dictated by the constellation Hydra, then obviously the show length was dictated by his jacket's saturation point. Epic pit stains eventually connected to epic back stains until, by the end of the second encore, his entire coat was a new, darker shade. He put a lot into the show.
I'm leaving out a ton of details, I'm sure, but eff you, man. You should've been there.
The way home was cool because we had disposable time. We could indulge in excursions off the non-existent itinerary. We could have followed PEHDTSCKJMBA if we had chosen. We briefly considered heading to Knoxville and finding tickets for the next show but instead went north towards Cleveland and the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame. We got distracted by the previously mentioned Cheese Barn and a hundred signs for Niagara Falls. Since neither of us had seen the American side of the falls, that was the new destination. It was pretty awesome. The actual views of the falls are more scenic than the Canadian side, but the town didn't seem to hold a candle to its genius Canadian counterpart. Then again we didn't explore too much of the town. But I sure didn't see a giant Frankenstein on top of a Burger King like I did in Canada. That whole street might very well be the best place on the planet.
The rest of the trip home was spent avoiding murder hotels like "The Red Carpet Inn" (I wonder why the carpets are so red? Murder?), trying to find Castleton from Time Chasers (which turned out to be in Vermont) so that we could get that sweet shirt, and mooing at cows.
It was an excellent adventure. And I like excellent adventures, so it all worked out.
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