My Special Moment (Do You Believe in Magic in a Young Girl's Heart?)

Less Than Jake played at The Chance in Poughkeepsie last night.

I'd been looking forward to this for months. Although your average LTJ fan was probably born after Reagan left office, I feel a deep and meaningful connection to their music. I also have a semi-gay crush on Roger, the bass player, which I believe has already been sufficiently documented elsewhere.

For starters, I overslept. Sunday afternoon at around 4, all the cats are on the bed, looking half sleepy, half drugged .. I should know better by now. I lay down to play with them. Typical routine: I poke Jackson in the ear with my pinky, I bop them all on the head a la Three Stooges, I play "From Here to Eternity" with Claude (I pin him on his back and make out with him like the final scene on the beach in the aforementioned movie). Well, joke's on me - I fell asleep. So we got a late start. Now, we called The Chance, and they said LTJ would be on at 9:20. A veteran of the concert scene (I have ticket stubs from about 60, and I've probably been to twice that number -- I saw Suicidal Tendencies in their prime in a club in Buffalo, Dream Theater jamming for 4 hours with no singer in 1989, half the audience at a Murphy's Law show in Ithaca up on stage smoking herb with Jimmy, I've seen Primus and Living Colour and Sonic Youth and the Black Crowes and Zebra and Drivin N Cryin and Cowboy Mouth and even Ice Cube, all in little clubs). I know that 9:20 PM means 11:45. So quarter to 9, we're in the car headed for Poughkeepsie (it's about an hour and a half north, towards Albany).

A word or two about the city of Poughkeepsie. As a whole, I like Dutchess County. Got no problem with Newburgh, Fishkill or Unionvale. I even like driving through La Grange because it makes me think of that town south of the border and those beautiful nameless putas Mexicanas. But Poughkeepsie is a shithole. Little known fact: Poughkeepsie is the only city in the country both designed and named by retarded people. It's true - check your Almanac. The urban planning, traffic flow, street signs - all of it - was designed by someone eating butterscotch pudding with his mittens clipped to his jacket sleeves.

Arriving in Poughkeepsie at 10:30, we headed directly for The Chance. And couldn't find it. 40 minutes of driving around in circles. It was like trying to find Area 51 in the Nevada desert. And here's the kicker: I'VE BEEN TO THE CHANCE AT LEAST 25 TIMES! Gee whiz, we saw Murphy's Law there only a few months ago. So there you are, lost in a rotting city, having to pee, while your favorite band is about to go on stage somewhere between Academy Street and South Clinton Street.

Walking up to the door of the club, where it takes one tattooed biker guy to take your ticket, and three more to glare at you, one of the henchmen spotted my Less Than Jake t-shirt, and informed me without any discernible regret that Less Than Jake was playing their last song right now, but we were still welcome to enter. That's great. We caught half of one song, plus two songs in the encore (to be fair, the encore consisted of two of my favorite songs ever). A solemn pact was made with my wife, before the final song, to never again mention this night or any of the events comprising said evening.

I figured I would at least buy a t-shirt on the way out, a souvenir to always remind me of my sloth and stupidity. There were only 4 or 5 shirts for sale, but I agonized over the purchase as if I were buying a Faberge egg. I settled on the green one, then changed my mind to the brown one. I bought the brown shirt and then sat there indecisively staring at the black one. The white one looked cool too. Maybe I should trade in the brown one. Like a character in a bad Seinfeld episode, I just couldn't let this evening end with a half-hearted purchase; I needed my 15 dollars of closure. Then Roger came and sat right on the merch table, 18 inches from me.

I'm not going to go through a play-by-play of my reaction; I frankly don't remember it. We talked for maybe 30 seconds. I barely remember anything he said. Sadly, I remember everything I said. I reached into my wallet to get something for him to autograph and found only my business cards, a card from the oil change place (10th one free!), and some currency from my last trip to China. I gave Roger a 5 Yuan note to sign, which he thought was cool. I sensed other people wanted autographs, and he was already moving on to other people when I realized I hadn't touched him. I wasn't about to reach out and touch his arm or caress his cheek or anything, certainly not without his consent, so I thanked him and stuck out my hand. He shook hands with me, with the sharpie still in his palm.

We also got lost on the way home, winding up in two (2) separate housing projects, and somehow on the campus of Vassar College.