It was a Friday night in the city. The fog hung low over the towering buildings, but the energy in the atmosphere was anything but gloomy. We walked, hand in hand, to the Fillmore's doors, eagerly handing our tickets to the doormen. As we entered, you grabbed an apple from the pile at the foot of the crimson staircase and thanked the old, content greeter. I rolled my eyes as you took my hand and we ascended the stairs.
In the cafe above, there was a lone guitarist crooning out some melancholy poetry over loud amps. The people sitting around sipped their drinks calmly, conversing and anticipating the the start of the concert.
We chose a seat by the window, where I could peek down at the shiny black tour bus on the street below, and gaze over the gray concrete landscape of the city.
You ordered a salad from the bar, while I sat in awe of the plethora of posters, records and photos that adorned the high ceiling-ed room. I bubbled with excitement for the concert, the fresh feeling of a new place and a new artist on my mind.
When the colossal plate of vegetables arrived, we gobbled down the tofu and tomatoes, wondering which songs our dear Jenny would open with and whether Jonathon Rice would be wearing tie-dye...again.
I smiled as we talked and ate, peering once more out the Fillmore's window, knowing in that moment that there was no where else I'd rather be.
In the cafe above, there was a lone guitarist crooning out some melancholy poetry over loud amps. The people sitting around sipped their drinks calmly, conversing and anticipating the the start of the concert.
We chose a seat by the window, where I could peek down at the shiny black tour bus on the street below, and gaze over the gray concrete landscape of the city.
You ordered a salad from the bar, while I sat in awe of the plethora of posters, records and photos that adorned the high ceiling-ed room. I bubbled with excitement for the concert, the fresh feeling of a new place and a new artist on my mind.
When the colossal plate of vegetables arrived, we gobbled down the tofu and tomatoes, wondering which songs our dear Jenny would open with and whether Jonathon Rice would be wearing tie-dye...again.
I smiled as we talked and ate, peering once more out the Fillmore's window, knowing in that moment that there was no where else I'd rather be.
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