We went back to their house in the absolute middle-of-nowhere at the outermost outskirts of Wayne county, and Sam handed me a pack of Marlboros. We rifled through all her laundry and filled bags with clothes she didn't want anymore. I always nearly double my wardrobe when I go over there. I desperately need another dresser, or a different one with more drawers.
Then we decided I needed some new colour in my hair (I have a hidden layer in the back that's been green since the summer). We tried to get the green out to make way for red, but it didn't budge, so we chose "Rockabilly Blue" instead. Nobody has noticed in the two weeks it's been newly coloured, and it kinda makes me sad, especially since last night, I attended a dinner party where one of the guests had the same colour in her hair, and everyone marveled at it.
In the morning, everyone slept in or lazed about until 2. Then we got dressed, did hair and makeup (Sam's makeup collection is the best salesman - I buy tonnes of makeup after every visit), and headed back out to Rochester for a concert.
I haven't officially seen Flogging Molly, even though they play in Rochester all the time (one of the bandmates is from here), even though I technically got to see them perform a couple of songs at a festival I was working at, while on a booth break. They were amazing, and the audience was on fire!
Sam and I got dropped off at the venue by Moose, and we had to walk without coats in the freezing breeze and waited in line. When we got in, we headed straight for the booze. We found none. There were beer booths all over the place, but we couldn't find a proper bar. We decided beer is better than nothing, and headed for a random line. We instantly saw someone we knew in line, and she said there was a full bar upstairs. We left so fast, you could see a vapor trail.
A couple shots and mix drinks later, and we were properly warmed back up enough to go find more friends and find the side-exit for a smoking area. We spent the entire pre-show smoking and drinking and shooting-the-shit with stories of the old days. I felt really happy because I was in some of the stories, and I just felt... included. My friends these days are great, but nobody talks about each others' lives, nobody really has many adventures together (except the married couple), and when they do, it's nothing usually worth talking about (I mean, I would love to talk about them, but nobody would listen).
We hit the bar for one more drink. Sam's treat, as always. Some guy nudged ahead of me while Sam ordered at the bar, and I said to my friend next to me, "That asshole just cut ahead of me!" My voice has never been booming, but the guy heard me say that and promptly backed off, apologizing profusely. I felt really bad. I told him I was just kidding, that I wasn't even in line, and that I didn't think he'd even hear me.
The stadium was packed by the time we left the bar, but we somehow managed to get right up front. We witnessed some drunken brawl behind us. Ahead of us, we witnessed a guy leave on a stretcher. Halfway through Flogging Molly's first song, a crowdsurfer took a bad dive and got hurt. They stopped the show to yell at security for not doing their jobs (their job was to be at the front of the crowd to help crowd-surfers not fall and break their necks once they got to the front - seems strange, but this is standard practice for most rock shows). They didn't start playing again until they felt the front was properly staffed, and the injured guy was away to safety and medically supported.
After the show, we hit the toilets. Sam's buzz was going strong, as she's on anxiety medication, and mine was wearing light, but still buzzing. I texted Sam from inside the toilet stall - a picture of the seat, with a pubic hair on it, captioned, "Help!" I managed to kick it off into the toilet, and sat down in time to hear Sam and our friends bust a gut laughing outside in the hall. They were so booming that other people we didn't even know had to be let in on the joke. Crazy that the high point of the night was me drunkenly battling a pube!
Came home and almost ate shit getting out of Moose's truck - the seat is so high that I can barely reach my leg up (and hand to the handle) to lift myself in, and I have absolutely forgotten this height in the past - they'll never forget my first time getting out, they just heard "Oh shit!" as they saw me swoop out the door and just barely manage to catch myself from falling into the railing we parked beside. I'm getting better at remembering to jump ;)