...and I was a part of it.
December 25, 2008
I blog a lot about happy tears. At some point in my life I decided that I had cried enough and I'll gladly pay a reward to anyone who actually catches me crying based on sadness from this point forward. The next thing you know, I got off the couch, stopped crying and watched the poets come to life. It was summer 2005 and I was in the middle of the most intense whirlwind I'd ever been stuck in. I'm riding up the escalator to see five friends debut on TRL and it happened. I cried. A security guard offered me a tissue and I broke out into laughter. I can't remember genuinely doing this before, but it was a good moment. It happens often now, but only because I put myself in many places at many times and eventually both align and the right things happen. If you don't respect Fall Out Boy and prefer to roll your eyes behind my back, please let me back you into a corner for 20 minutes and when you are set free, I have no doubt that you will, at minimum, respect me and the reasons that I feel the way that I do.
The most remarkable thing about this event, and this video documenting it, is that you never hear a bonafide scream or squeal. This is a collection of the most intense fans this band has and their dedication is based more on a true and mutual respect than a few catchy tracks that are constantly blaring through your local club's speakers. In my eyes, this band and their fans interact the way that all artists and their fanbases should. They are in love with each other and both believe that neither can exist without the other. Being a part of this was intense, and the more and more I relive it and tell the story, the more emotional it makes me. Everyone there wanted to be a part of something. They wanted to hear, see, smell and touch everything. I love the way everyone sings along, yet you can still hear Patrick without amplification. It made you feel like you were a part of something. A small invisible bubble encapsulated us in the middle of that large metropolis and nothing else in the world mattered.
If you want 20 minutes in the corner with me, I'll give you a breakdown of the entire week, but for now "I keep my [mmrs] close, cause their all mine." Not only did I turn on the faucet myself, but I saw them do it too and it was more reassurance than I could ever ask for. Millions of records sold and I've had more intense and intimate moments with this band than the musicians that I call friends. It's good to feel needed again. xo
