Travels: Part 4: Alone in the Dark

Part I
Part II
Part III

And now...
Feelings of fear overcome our traveler, while she listens to the cacophonous opening acts.

Now I am not generally one to fear being alone, and indeed have found myself to be a brave traveler. But this moment in my sojourn did cost me some several moments of anxiety. I shall describe it briskly, not in my usual florid style, but in the manner of one who is remembering for some purpose, as if being investigated by the law.

It was a large white hall, an art gallery of sorts. People were clustered in groups drinking beer. College students. There were odd pieces of art on the wall. Some large, modern installations like a road sign with pudding boxes taped to it, things like that. I felt very exposed, being there alone, even though it was dark, and tried to sit in such a way as to not draw attention to myself, that is, very still. As more people came in my buffer zone of chairs was encroached upon, and I pulled to the side and away. During all this time, every time the door opened, this was before the bands started or in between, I would look back and see if it was the band arriving. I began to wonder if they would come at all. Were they lost? Or did they just decide to skip this gig. I didn't know their touring habits well enough to know.

I was very excited to see them, and wondered if they would be pleased to see me. Would my friend hug me? I wanted him to, but he is not a physically affectionate fellow, indeed upon his leaving for this tour we had stood awkwardly in the coffee shop parking lot and he had seemed to me to deliberately step away when the time of hugging presented itself, and no hug was had.

What if they never arrived? I blushed at the thought that I would always have to keep my surprise visit a secret. Surely it would be best if no one ever knew. I would not be embarrassed that they found out I had come. They would not be embarrassed being found out not to have come. All would be quiet and secret.

These were the various thoughts that wandered through my head on this endless wait. Soon enough however, The opening act began.

It was a local group. Fractured music, very loud with no discernable melody. I began to think that my ears might actually be bleeding. It decreased my thoughts of anxiety somewhat, as I could not think, the noise was so great. The reinforcement of the randomness of the tune came when after the first song, there was a continuing of the music, softer, and more tuneful, as if there was a line of music running underneath, but it turned out that the sound guy had neglected to turn off the background music he had been playing before the show.

And so this went on. Pain began to build in my forehead. My ears began to ring. More miserable I could not have been, and I began to consider the possibility of escape.

Oh then dear friends, finally was my longing answered, I heard a stirring at the back of the hall. From the darkness of my corner I turned and looked and was greeted with the sweetest sight. The band had arrived. My relief was great, but far from leaping up and running to them, I held my place in the dark, taking a moment to settle and observe their entry and disposition in order to assess their mood and my next action.