And Oh the Towering Feeling

And now for my 450th post, a whole hell of a lot of fangirling

And oh! The towering feeling
Just to know somehow you are near

Just thinking about it makes my chest feel tight. I could never properly review any of their concerts simply because it's all too surreal for me. I couldn't have asked for anything more amazing or heartbreaking. The after effect may have been one of despair (because I can never be someone I'm not), but how can I forget those too perfect moments of complete bliss? Yes, I can never be certain of anything, but it's so wonderful to imagine, so very wonderful. I may never be able to do what I wish I could do, but if everything goes as planned, that won't matter. No, I won't ever forget, and one day I will be remembered.

I was so faint with joy I didn't know what was happening

Set List:
Saturday Night
Every Day I Love You Less And Less
Heat Dies Down
Ruby
Thank You Very Much
Na Na Na Na Naa
Everything Is Average Nowadays
Born To Be A Dancer
Modern Way
Highroyds
Try Your Best
I Predict A Riot
Take My Temperature
Retirement
The Angry Mob
Oh My God

By the time we were let in I couldn't feel my toes and my hands weren't working properly. I had seen Nick and Simon leave the tour bus, the exact same one that Sophs had been saying she wanted to push over. The opening bands were good, but I couldn't understand a word from either of them, what with the sound system not working. But piece by piece the stage was cleared till all that was left was the equipment for the main attraction. My poor ears were all but dead and I knew I would pay for my enthusiasm through my neck. Then the lights went down and the screaming started.
Before that Peanut was up on the balcony watching the Walkmen speed their way through their set. The proceedings had started late and the two opening acts were paying for this tardiness. I was up against the railing to the right of the stage, my right ear getting the brunt of the abuse I was enduring. Then it was the Walkmen's last song and a half hour of waiting. The waiting didn't seem that long though and soon there was cheering and screaming. And there they were, living, breathing, real men.
Most of what happened afterwards is blurred together with only a few things standing apart from everything else. The deadening realization that as much as I seem like a fangirl, I'm far too inhibited to actually act like one in public. The hope that his (and we all know "he" is) wink and salute was to me, though it may have been towards someone else. Brief moments of possible eye contact, his eyes looking so dark. The slow realization that all of my attention was focused on him, that somehow my stare would draw his attention. The other realization that I was screaming and shouting my vocal chords into oblivion for the same purpose as my stare. Then, during "Take My Temperature" the stage dive to the bar and the return journey. I touched his hand! My god, I really touched his hand.
There was a moment during the concert when I just stood there, my mouth partially open, staring in amazement that I was were I was. Smiling when Ricky collapsed near the end of the set, feeling nearly as exhausted as he probably felt. Egging them to come back, knowing full well which songs they hadn't performed. Wondering why that one girl thought she could actually convince the band to stray from the prescribed set list, as if she was so powerful. No, the whole thing was a blur of emotion with the music acting as an accompaniment.
And yes the performance was excellent, despite what the Washington Post reviewer* may think. Oddly enough I actually learned some things as well: People either don't pay attention to or don't absorb lyrics the way I do and when it comes to living out the fantasy the closest I can get right now is holding his hand for a brief moment.

*scroll down past the review of the classical artist to get to the review of Saturday night's show