So I was going through some old concert tickets and thinking back on some of the shows I've seen over the past decade or so (some of which I'll discuss in a future post). With my friend Brian Siers, I had a good run at the Coachella festivals, jaunting out to Indio and back every year from 2004 to 2014, with one last shot in 2016. Recently, I was thinking about 2010, and for me, the memory of those individual weekends can be a bit fuzzy. Thankfully, there's the internet to fill in the blanks of my brain. Here's what Billboard had to say about Coachella 2010.
If you clicked through the link, you saw Billboard's top ten moments. Then why, you ask, does the title of this post refer to 11 moments? Again, here's where my memory gets a bit foggy. But as much as I can remember, Brian and I were in a tent watching some act, and there was a small group of women in front of us who were being bro'd by some dudes or having their stuff stomped a bit or something or other, and I stepped in to help them. (No "m'lady" required.) That started some small talk between us, and when the act was finished, Brian and I went with the ladies to get some refreshments before the next wave started, and we chatted some more.
Now, it's important to know that Brian and I were not usually the Coachella chatterboxes. By no means were we isolates who ignored the whole of humanity, but we were there for the music and the hang, not to make friends or influence people, so any conversations with our fellow attendees were pretty limited in scope and duration. But these ladies were pretty easy to talk to, and one woman in particular seemed to really spark with Brian. Her name was, and is, Samantha.
As Brian and I live in separate cities, we went back to our respective homes after Coachella 2010 ended. But when I would periodically chat with Brian, he would talk about how he had just finished talking with Samantha (who, I discovered, was more of a Sam than a Samantha). Over time, this transcontinental flirtation between Brian and Sam blossomed into love, and Sam moved to Chicago to be with Brian and to twin their lives together, to celebrate successes and grieve losses as one. They weren't married, but they might as well have been.
Until, that is, they got married.
Brian and I usually are able to squeak in some sort of visit around Thanksgiving week. Last year, I was able to swing down and have lunch with Brian, Sam, and Brian's older brother and younger sister. This year, Brian and Sam said they'd make the drive north to grab dinner, and as my wife Coco and I waited for the appetizers to arrive, Brian and Sam sprung the surprise on us, showing off their rings (and telling a funny story of what led up to the buying of the rings, a story that I won't repeat here). We had a great dinner, and then they hit the road to head back downstate, to sleep and bake and celebrate their first Thanksgiving as a married couple.
I'm not one of those people who believe that one must get married. Like anyone, I know people who aren't married but who have enviable models of long-term commitment, and I know married people who lead separate lives. But I'm happy for both Brian and Sam, and I'm selfishly glad that I was there at what was the beginning of a story of laughter and love, set to the soundtrack of a California festival.
If you clicked through the link, you saw Billboard's top ten moments. Then why, you ask, does the title of this post refer to 11 moments? Again, here's where my memory gets a bit foggy. But as much as I can remember, Brian and I were in a tent watching some act, and there was a small group of women in front of us who were being bro'd by some dudes or having their stuff stomped a bit or something or other, and I stepped in to help them. (No "m'lady" required.) That started some small talk between us, and when the act was finished, Brian and I went with the ladies to get some refreshments before the next wave started, and we chatted some more.
Now, it's important to know that Brian and I were not usually the Coachella chatterboxes. By no means were we isolates who ignored the whole of humanity, but we were there for the music and the hang, not to make friends or influence people, so any conversations with our fellow attendees were pretty limited in scope and duration. But these ladies were pretty easy to talk to, and one woman in particular seemed to really spark with Brian. Her name was, and is, Samantha.
As Brian and I live in separate cities, we went back to our respective homes after Coachella 2010 ended. But when I would periodically chat with Brian, he would talk about how he had just finished talking with Samantha (who, I discovered, was more of a Sam than a Samantha). Over time, this transcontinental flirtation between Brian and Sam blossomed into love, and Sam moved to Chicago to be with Brian and to twin their lives together, to celebrate successes and grieve losses as one. They weren't married, but they might as well have been.
Until, that is, they got married.
Brian and I usually are able to squeak in some sort of visit around Thanksgiving week. Last year, I was able to swing down and have lunch with Brian, Sam, and Brian's older brother and younger sister. This year, Brian and Sam said they'd make the drive north to grab dinner, and as my wife Coco and I waited for the appetizers to arrive, Brian and Sam sprung the surprise on us, showing off their rings (and telling a funny story of what led up to the buying of the rings, a story that I won't repeat here). We had a great dinner, and then they hit the road to head back downstate, to sleep and bake and celebrate their first Thanksgiving as a married couple.
I'm not one of those people who believe that one must get married. Like anyone, I know people who aren't married but who have enviable models of long-term commitment, and I know married people who lead separate lives. But I'm happy for both Brian and Sam, and I'm selfishly glad that I was there at what was the beginning of a story of laughter and love, set to the soundtrack of a California festival.
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