A LOVE LETTER TO COLUMBUS, OHIO... AND CHAD KROEGER
But now, it was official - in May, two single Canadian gals above the age of 30 were heading down to Columbus, Ohio for a hard rock music festival donning matching Chad Kroeger shirts...
Music festivals involve two of my favourite things in this world: live music and strangers. The combination of running around rocking out to beloved bands/artists, while also meeting a variety of mysterious new humans is intoxicating. For over a decade I have chased this high across North America frequenting festivals such as Coachella (California), Bonnaroo (Tennessee), Osheaga (Montreal), etc. So when I receive a message in January of 2023 from my friend Kerrie with a lineup for a festival I had never heard of, in a city I’d never heard of… I felt a thrill of anticipation run through my body.
Sonic Temple is an annual rock/hard rock/metal music festival in Columbus, Ohio aka the city I had never heard of. Kerrie and I quickly purchase our “VIP Field Tickets”, not entirely sure what that means but confident we made the right decision. Soon after, we begin reaching out to our network of people curious as to whether or not we knew anyone that’s heard of this random city in Ohio. Turns out Ben, the wonderful man that cleans my building, has a cousin in Columbus and has been a few times to visit. He laughs while I question him on whether or not it’s a real place and tells me that it’s actually quite comparable to Ottawa. The visions I have of Kerrie and I driving into a city filled with men littering the streets seeking chaos ends as quickly as they begin… to which I’m only somewhat disappointed. But now, it was official - in May, two single Canadian gals above the age of 30 were heading down to Columbus, Ohio for a hard rock music festival donning matching Chad Kroeger shirts and Lululemon gear. What could go wrong?
The festival itself is four days, Thursday-Sunday, and we agree to drive there and back to avoid the hectic airports and potential flight delays. We’d leave the Wednesday and come back the Monday. I pull up Google maps to see how long a drive we were in for and it estimates 9 hours and 55 minutes. Pft… I’ll get us there in no more than 9. Ben declares me crazy to think that’s possible after having done this exact drive multiple times… and to that I say, “You’ve known me for how long and you haven’t already established I’m crazy?”. He instantly raised his arms in defeat.
That Wednesday morning I drop off Alfie (my dog) at my parents home, who was positively outraged to be left behind, and head over to Kerrie’s. Kerrie is a badass. She recently purchased a home (her second and all on her own at the age of 32) in a desired old suburb only 20 minutes from downtown. She works as a Diagnostic Imaging Technician and dedicates endless, exhaustive hours assisting people who are, more often than not, terrified and vulnerable dealing with a lot of unknown in regard to their health. She has an assertive and competent quality about her which is how I know the people that are lucky enough to have her as their technician feel safe and a little more calm as a result of her presence. She spends her time off playing hockey, working on her business crafting decorative trinkets from wood, running, and making her way through an endless list of renovations/projects for her home. I was introduced to her years prior through mutual friends and we quickly connected over our shared love for rock music, sport and banter. P.S. she’s absolutely stunning. Long, curly brown hair with light blue eyes, and fit as a fiddle with a face scattered in perfectly placed freckles. She’s undoubtedly the type of woman that most would genuinely ponder as to how could possibly be single but should definitely not question this out loud in her presence. My girl is feisty and fed up with that line of questioning and rightfully so. Since I’ve known her I’ve seen her experience a low in life causing her to disappoint some of her longtime friends creating distance between them. She was able to garner from within the self awareness to make note of this distance and initiate change. Over the last couple of years she worked on herself in such an impressive manner and I watched as she came back home to herself and those longtime friends. That’s not an easy thing to do but she did it, and it was inspiring to witness.
The two of us hit the road completely unaware of what we would potentially encounter that weekend. We hype ourselves up listening to the bands we were most stoked to see: Foo Fighters, TOOL, Deftones, The Pretty Reckless, Avenged Sevenfold, and more. In the blink an eye we’ve already been on the road for over an hour and see the Canada/USA border in the distance. Kerrie turns off the music, gathers our passports and hands them to me as I pull up to that tiny box where one human sits holding the power to ruin your day. As I place the car in park I look up to see the border agent - a beautiful woman around our age with a full face of expertly applied make up. I smile and say hello as she extends her hand my direction to accept our passports. She greets us with a curt nod, no smile and begins the standard questioning as she reviews our documents.
“What are you going to Columbus for?” she asks looking at me straight in the eye.
“For a music festival!”, Kerrie and I unanimously declare in a high pitch tone reflecting our glee.
The agent looks down then does a double take in our direction where we catch surprise in her expression followed by a smirk that lasts a mere 2 seconds.
“Woah, woah, woah! I saw that! You just smirked! What was that about?” I cry, now looking at her straight in the eye.
Kerrie and I laugh as we both watch awaiting her response. She keeps her head down as a small smile cracks and a snort of laughter emerges from her serious and professional exterior. She never did tell us what made her smirk at the thought of the two of us heading down to Columbus for a music festival… I mean, she didn’t even know about the matching t-shirts! But as the two of us drove off, the agent still holding that smile which now made it up to her eyes, we became even more eager for what was to come…
We were going to make it there in 9 hours. I was determined as the driver and Kerrie was the kind of passenger that agreed the driver made the rules. So when we hit around five hours into our voyage we agreed to stop at the next best available place - best simply meaning “NOT sketchy.” As we follow the signs off the highway we spot our destination - a gas station with a large building that includes a restaurant and convenience store. We hop out of the car happy to give our legs a stretch and I begin to fill up the tank while Kerrie meanders off to find the washroom. I finish up and when I enter the building I am in love with what I see. On the right, a modern convenience store with all the amenities and trinkets you could ask for. On the left, the sweetest restaurant that was operated by a family and sold homemade baked goods to go. In between were the washrooms and a cigar lounge. Wait, a cigar lounge? Huh? What’s that? I do a double take and then slowly approach the entrance, curling my hands around my eyes as I press my forehead to the glass. Inside I see two comfy looking chairs facing one another with a table in between. Alrighty… I guess it’s literally just a place to sit and smoke a cigar?
I pull my head back to find Kerrie walking toward me with a look of laughter on her face. She whispers that when she opened the bathroom door there was a woman sitting on a toilet, pants down with the stall door wide open and Kerrie could see it all. Yes… all of it. So now she was ready to get the heck out of there but first, she wanted some of those homemade treats. I pay for the gas and say goodbye to the fella behind the counter that “knew I was Canadian immediately because I sure sounded like it!” and knows our accent well because of “this gal I used to date from Niagara Falls!” In the end that relationship didn’t quite end the way he’d have liked but he still held the smile of a man always looking on the bright side of any situation set before him.
We’re back on the road again with less than halfway to go and an official destination in our GPS - The Hyatt Place Columbus/OSU (Ohio State University). As we enter the city of Columbus we are instantly impressed by the highway system - this sounds kinda lame but if you’re Canadian, you know… our highways are poorly planned and there aren’t nearly enough of them. We find the nearest Whole Foods so we can make a quick stop to stock up on some food before arriving at The Hyatt.
I step out of my car, again thankful to stretch out my legs and feel the strong wind and sun on my face as I close my eyes knowing when I get home I get to brag to Ben about making it there in no more than 9 hours. When I open my eyes I look at the hotel unsure of what we’d be walking into. We had left hotel reservations until only a few weeks beforehand and the deal we got on this place seemed too good to be true. 99.9% of the time when something seems too good to be true it’s because it very much is. This time around, we hit the jackpot! For the entirety of our stay we didn’t hear a peep from our neighbours (which were mainly other festival goers), the staff were very friendly and the bed was more comfortable than the average hotel. The only issue I had sleeping was the person laying next to me aka Kerrie who I once declared during a cottage weekend was “way too small to have a noise that loud come out of!”.
We check into our room happy to be on the top level in a clean, spacious spot with a view of the trees out back. We watch as they whip around in the wind realizing it’s a bit cooler than we originally thought it would be here. Being Canadian, May is the beginning of summer and we always assume everywhere is warmer than where we are. Columbus was not. It was cooler and we did not pack accordingly. We change into our warmest clothes and I confirm it’s a 20 minute walk from our hotel to the restaurant. When doing my research on Columbus I was delighted to discover they have an abundance of Vegan options with Greenhouse Canteen + Bar being highly reviewed and our official destination that evening.
As we walk from our hotel to the restaurant, behaving very much like the classic tourist pointing at every little thing surrounding us as though it was the first time we’d seen such a thing, we realize the neighbourhood we’re in is all newly developed. We walk by modern townhomes and condos, buildings midway through construction and new commerical plazas riddled with “For Lease” and “Coming Soon” signs. I think we’re in the new, trendy, hot neighbourhood of this city! Ravenous, we finally arrive at the restaurant located at the bottom of a newly developed condo building and proceed to devour the best Vegan food I’ve had in my entire life. This city I’d never heard of was quickly becoming quite the intriguing place…
I wake up the next morning and stumble through the darkness of our room to gather my workout gear. I didn’t sleep very well, awakening every few hours to the sound of Kerrie’s larger than life snores, and knew a good sweat session would energize me. I tip toe around the room and try my best not to wake her as I open the door entering the brightness of the hallway. I head down to the lobby gym that’s massive, bright, and well equipped with modern machines and weights. I send Kerrie a text to let her know where I am and begin my workout in the empty gym. Only toward the end did I have some company - two men, both dressed in all black and wearing band t-shirts. I ask if they’re heading to Sonic and they both look me up and down with judgment and nod their heads confirming their attendance. Kerrie and I had considered that perhaps we’d stand out at this festival since we didn’t have the “hard rock look” but concluded that no one would really care. Soon we’d discover we would be the opposite of “standing out”… we’d be invisible.
Post workout I pass by the cheerful receptionist and stroll toward the restaurant to see if Kerrie had discovered, and conquered, the complimentary hotel breakfast. I don’t see her but am immediately distracted by a man sitting with his dog while waiting for his wife to collect their meal. I ask if I could say hello to his pup to which he says “Absolutely!” and extends his arm to the seat across from him. Soon after, his wife arrives placing a hearty breakfast on the table and gives me a warm smile as she sits down next to him.
We get to talking and I tell them all about the glorious meal we had the night before and my surprise at how high quality the food was. They weren’t surprised to hear this and tell me that Columbus is actually known to be the perfect demographic representation of the people of America as a whole and because of this, had become the ideal test market for new restaurants. More specifically International restaurants that wanted to slowly explore whether or not the country was worth them expanding into. Because of this, Columbus now has one of top restaurant scenes. She proudly tells me, as she smiles toward her husband, that they know this because their son works for the government in food & tourism. When I ask what they were doing in Columbus the energy shifts in our conversation. I learn that Columbus is prominent for their medical care with one of their hospitals ranked amongst the top 10 in the country. She recently had a relapse in her battle with breast cancer and was there with her husband and pup, who sat on her lap peacefully sleeping through our entire conversation, for her treatments. She’s strong and she knows it - and so does her husband, who adoringly watches her as she speaks with a sadness in his eye that is barely visible as it’s overwhelmingly a look of admiration and pride.
We talk for an hour as they were keen and filled with questions about the 4 days ahead of me at this music festival. They laugh and relive parts of their youth sharing the stories of their past. I was blessed to have met them and share this moment with them. It’s not often I meet a couple whose love radiates so strongly that you’re forced to feel it too. They were electric.
I finally make my way back to our room where I find Kerrie - who had discovered the hotel breakfast as confirmed by the heaping plate of food perched next to the TV. We begin making our plans for the day and create a routine that we would follow for the next four days. Wake up, workout, shower, agree on the earliest band we’d want to see that day, walk to find food, explore the city, then hop in the car and head to the festival grounds. After hitting up the festival for the day we’d make our way back to our hotel and debrief the day. This typically involved us cruising the dating apps giggling away with our legs up against the wall to assist in prompt recovery so we could do it all again the next day. All four days were like this and all four days were perfect.
The time we had to explore the city was time well spent and we really grew to love Columbus. We visited the Ohio Statehouse, where we were greeted by a man and woman who loved their job, but loved humans more. They laughed with us while asking questions about our trip and gave us tips on where best to start our tour of the building. They also recommended we visit the Short North Arts District, Schiller Park and German Village, which we promptly added to our list and later explored.
One day, as we walked around downtown allowing the city to guide us turning on any street that looked interesting, we found ourselves in front of a record store and immediately ran in like kids to a candy shop. There was one record I was looking for and had been looking for since 2017, the year I got a record player - Astral Weeks by Van Morrison. It’s a very popular album with plentiful options for purchase online but I made a vow to myself that I would only buy records in person, in store. Records are from another time when the internet didn’t dominate the world so I resolved that the experience in buying them should be as nostalgic as the item itself. The door of the shop closes behind us and a tall, pale, 90’s looking dude with glasses and khaki pants looks up at me while my head spins around taking in the hundreds of records before me.
“Hey! How can I help?” he asks with a small smile.
“Oh, I’m just wondering where I could find Van Morrison in here?” I respond, eager for his response but knowing it was a long shot.
He points to one corner, “Right over there! But we don’t have much of him right now… usually we have more but for now we just have the one record.”
My shoulders drop in defeat but I still ask, “What record is that?”.
“Astral Weeks!” he says softly, completely unaware that those two words would create such exhilaration in me.
His eyes widen and he laughs as I scream in delight. I then share with him my story - how long I’ve been looking for this record and how my love for Van Morrison began as a baby when my mom would lull me back to sleep in the middle of the night singing his songs. It’s the random moments in life that can often feel the most magical and there I stood, clutching the Astral Weeks record in total awe as to how this city, that I’d never heard of before, was blessing me with such a beautiful surprise.
By Saturday we had explored so much we felt like locals. I booked a class that morning at a hot yoga studio nearby and Kerrie planned to meet me there post-run so we could grab breakfast together. I arrive at the studio 30 minutes before class only to find the front door locked. That’s weird… I squint and look through the glass door and see a beautiful lobby shaded in darkness signaling there was nobody inside. I decide to sit out front and wait concluding perhaps they only open the doors 15 minutes before class. I watch the cars go by and text Kerrie, knowing she hadn’t left for her run yet, updating her on this strange turn of events.
30 minutes quickly becomes 15 minutes and I remain alone waiting…. Where are the other students for this class? I decide to call the studio… no answer. I call again. No answer. I call again and again, pacing back and forth in front of the studio glancing at the space admiring how new and expensive it was. Perhaps after an unsuccessful start they’d closed? But I prepaid for this class… why would they be taking money if they were closed? Have I been scammed? It’s now 12 minutes before class is scheduled to start and I had just hung up after my eleventh call to their only listed number. Scammed for sure. I begin texting Kerrie to tell her to meet me back at the hotel when I’m interrupted by an incoming call to which I promptly answer… “Hello?!”
“Hello, yes… you called. How can I help you?” A groggy, yet loud, male voice yells in response as I wince and pull the phone away from my ear.
Turns out the man calling was the owner of the studio, the teacher for this class slated to start in 11 minutes, and absolutely dead asleep before my many phone calls. He apologizes and says he lives a block away and will be there in 2 minutes. I hang up the phone laughing and text Kerrie that she absolutely has pick me up afterward as I’m concerned I may not make it out alive. She confirms she’ll be there and sure enough, 2 minutes later I see a man around the age of 30, with obvious bedhead and a tired, embarrassed smile, round the side of the building. He beings to apologize further while he stumbles to unlock the front door, opens it and guides me through. The inside is absolutely incredible. It was as though I had just entered a rain forest - the entire space covered in lush colours with plants running up the walls.
He skips to the computer behind the front desk to “check me in” asking where I was from and how I found his studio, which he reveals was just under one year old. As he’s chatting I look at the clock and see it’s now 8 minutes before class and I’m still here alone… Is it just gonna be me and him in the studio? Is this actually a real hot yoga studio? I haven’t even been through those doors where the alleged hot room is… what if this all really is a scam? What’s REALLY behind those doors? My crazed line of questioning quickly comes to a close when a woman walks through the front door and brightly says hello to the instructor by first name indicating this wasn’t her first time there. Phewf! That was a close call! Unless… SHE’S HIS ACCOMPLICE!
He “checks in” the other woman and announces that it was just the two of us for class that morning then directs us toward the hot room. It’s as stunning as the rest of the studio and you could almost hear his voice echo in the emptiness surrounding us as we set up our mats on the floor. We sit down, face him and await his lead. He paces back and forth rubbing his chin until he stops, faces us, claps his hands together and casually asks, “So… what do you guys want to do today?”
The two of us look at each other confused. She’s unsure of what to say so just continues to go “hmmmm….uhhhhh…hmmm…uhhhhh” on repeat until I interrupt and say, “Well we signed up for a power class so I think that’d be great!” He agrees and we then proceed to have the strangest yoga class of my entire life… and it was done entirely in silence. Just the sound of our breath and him barking orders in our direction.
He gives us quick directions through multiple flows as he dances erratically around us hailing our ability to “keep up with him”. 20 minutes into this 60 minute class he abruptly stops and rushes toward us declaring that we were practicing “way too far from one another”. I disagree. The other woman also disagrees. We consciously chose to practice near one another because of how large the empty space was… but he had an idea and there was no stopping him. This was the moment that I realized he was, without a doubt, very high… probably shrooms…
At lightning speed he snatches the other woman’s mat out from under her while she squeals in surprise and saves herself from falling over. She stands up, looks at me nervously and we watch while he places her mat inches from mine. We stood next to one another our arms practically touching while he began to lead us through a flow standing a foot in front of us. “I want you to move and breath as though you are one.” he whispers with his eyes closed and hands rubbing our backs. We side eye one another and I mouth What? her direction to which she shakes her head stifling a laugh. We attempt to stay in unison as he becomes increasingly disappointed in our inability to effectively do so, his frustration evident when I look up at his face and realize he’s not blinking… “Why can’t you breath at the same time she breathes?” he cries in my direction causing both of us to finally break out in laughter.
It’s coming toward the end of class, praise be!, and he decides it’d be fun for us to finish practicing headstands. I’d never done a headstand in my life but he was convinced I could, and so was the other woman to whom I gave a look of betrayal… Girl, I thought we were one the same side here?! I reluctantly agree to do one with his assistance and the next thing I know, I’m on my head while he’s standing above me firmly holding my legs. The other woman is standing on her head next to me cheering me on while he cries, “See! I knew you could do it!” They were right! I can do it! My arms begin to shake as my body registers the pain this position is causing. I’m about to ask him to help me down when I feel his hands loosen their grip on my legs and his body slowly back away from mine. This fucker is about to leave me to do this all on my own!
“IF YOU TAKE EVEN ONE FINGER OFF MY LEG I WILL KILL YOU! DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?” I scream as my already red face, grows redder. He slowly helps me down muttering words I cannot understand until I eventually lay down on my mat. I rub my head, relieved to have made it back down to earth, and think… Columbus, Ohio… goddamn! What else you got for me?
The music festival itself was sublime… and not just because Sublime was there. Ha ha. The main stage was within a football stadium, the Historic Crew Stadium, where you had either field access, stadium seating, or both. We had both. To the left of the stadium was the smallest stage of the festival and to the right was a bigger stage that could, like the main stage, feature more popular bands with a larger fan base. Maneuvering in between stages was fairly smooth and when one band finished, within minutes the next one began. It was the first festival I’d been to where the schedule of bands was so expertly crafted that you had essentially no downtime in between shows.
We were ignorant to how cold it would be in the evening so the first night when TOOL took the stage, Kerrie and I cheered while aggressively swaying back and forth in our attempt to keep warm. The second day we were more prepared and looked forward to a little less frozen and a lot more people watching. The crowd was an absolute, what I call, “sausagefest”. It was either large groups of men or couples. There was little to no in between - the in between being people like Kerrie and I rendering us invisible. We’d walk through the crowd passing hundreds of men in their band shirt, long shorts, piercings, and lobster red, freshly burnt skin. Scattered amongst them were the women of the festival decked out in their best “hard rock” fits. Cropped band shirts, short shorts with fishnet stockings, leather boots, high heels, tattoos, dark eye make up and red lips. The visual difference between the male and female species was immense.
It didn’t take long inside the festival for us to detect a small niche of women that, pardon my french, had their “tits out”. I saw more bare breasts that weekend than I had in every women’s locker room I’ve ever been in. The variety of how they were showcased did vary: some ladies wore a bra three sizes too small that would stretch below their breast leaving them entirely exposed, others would only have stickers covering their nips, while a special few would be in their full birthday suit from the hips up. While we were waiting for The Pretty Reckless to hit the main stage we stood on the field and spotted a very large, shirtless, elderly man jumping around in the stadium seating his belly shaking in all directions. Kerrie and I laugh joining some of the crowd in cheering him on until we hear the gentleman behind us… “That’s not a shirtless man.” We turn to face him. “That’s a woman… and yes, those are her boobs.” The expression on this man’s face was priceless. It was that of a man that was so shocked he had become numb. That of a man so disgusted yet so calm. This broad had some cannons hanging all the way down past her belly button and was swinging them around like the weapons they were. It was magnificent.
That’s when we realized why we were so invisible in this crowd. You had to be truly special to stand out amongst these fearless humans… or at the least get your boobs out too. This held true up until the final day… HEY, HEY, HEY… if you’re thinking we took our tits out you’d be wrong. For one, they’re too pasty and two, Kerrie’s response to that would be… “Nobody would know my tits were out, they’d just think some dude took his top off.”
The year before this Kerrie made the best decision of her life thus far. She purchased a shirt featuring the many different faces, and hairstyles, of Chad Kroeger (the main singer of Nickelback, duh! *NO NICKELBACK HATE ALLOWED HERE!). Turns out she had bought two and when we were planning this trip she offered me the larger one so we could match. Originally we were unsure if it was a good idea - what if it pissed off an intoxicated person that deemed Nickelback to be the death of rock? Sounds dramatic but there are truly people who are that passionate in their hate of poor Chad. We decide that scenario is unlikely and choose the final day, featuring the Foo Fighters, to be the best day for our shenanigans because we knew Dave Grohl fans would appreciate the humour in it. PLUS, now having been at the festival for three days we knew it didn’t matter, we were invisible! There were bare titties to be seen! Wrong…
As we get in line to enter the festival we hear laughter in our direction. I turn to see a girl in her best “hard rock fit” lean in toward her friend and say loud enough for us to hear, “Oh my god! Are they really wearing that?!”. What I failed to mention earlier is the opener for the Foo Fighters that night was the Deftones, an alternative metal band with a large fan base some of whom may believe Nickelback to be the antithesis of rock. Oopsies. We enter the festival realizing we weren’t so invisible anymore and were overwhelmed by how many people were now interested in engaging in conversation. Who would’ve thought that the only thing that could distract a crowd from boobs was Chad Kroeger? I may have to DM Chad to let him know this fun fact.
Fortunately there were way more lovers than haters and we laughed with them all. We got high fives, drunk people running up to grab our arm and let us know how obsessed they were with our shirts, people asking to take a picture of the shirt as well as people asking to take a picture with us.
During AWOLNATION’s set, Kerrie and I were standing together in the crowd enjoying the show when a woman, no more than 5’3, burst through the people beside us. “WHERE DID YOU GET THOSE SHIRTS?!” she screams, breathless from her treacherous voyage through the crowd. She tells us about her mother, whose in her 70’s and their biggest fan. At the time Nickelback was on tour across America and her mom was begging her to go to one of their shows. She continues to yell over the music and crowd surrounding us about how she hadn’t bought tickets but maybe she could surprise her mother with this shirt! She grabs her phone while we describe how she can find it online then looks up at us, thanks us, takes a swig of her drink and insists that we take a photo together. About an hour later we see her again in the crowd as she runs over to us waving her phone. “I GOT THE SHIRTS AND THE TICKETS! I GOT THE TICKETS AND THE SHIRTS!” she cries, doing a little celebratory dance. Earlier, after we parted ways, she decided that she loved her mother so much and there’s only so much time they have left together so “fuck the money!”. She took out her phone, bought the tickets, bought the shirts and in a few months her and her mom would be rocking the matching Chad shirts while actually rocking out to Chad. Freaking badass AND freaking adorable. My favourite combo.
It was time for the Deftones so we sped walk over to the main stage with a trail of laughter following. They were one of the bands we were most excited to see and they did not disappoint. Midway through the show, Kerrie points to the main singer so I look up to the screen and see that he was going so hard his necklace cut his neck leaving him covered in blood. He didn’t even flinch. He didn’t even take his necklace off! Blood, sweat, and no tears. It was fantastic.
Right before the show started, as we settled into our ideal spot on the field, I see a man on our left. I nudge Kerrie to, what I personally believe was subtle but likely wasn’t, “subtly” let her know that there’s an absolute babe “right over there”. The “right over there” not being said with words but with my head and eyeballs jerking three times in a row to the left. She leans back then forward, “Yep! He’s totally your type!”. A few minutes later I hear, “Is that the dude from Nickelback?”. I look to my left to see him next to me smiling. Ouf, that’s a nice smile. The babe is around 6’2, bearded, backward hat on (my kryptonite and classic sign you were in HS in the 00’s), early 30’s, deep voice… and HOT, HOT, HOT. The two of us start chatting and I try and loop Kerrie in but I’d look to my right and see her smirking toward the stage. She didn’t want in, she wanted me to get it in… and that smirk said it all.
I’m reviewing my bout of celibacy while he tells me he’s in Columbus on a contract for work as a helicopter lineman - which is basically doing work on power lines and accessing them via helicopter. HOT. He pulls out his phone to show me videos of him standing on the side of a helicopter that’s slowly approaching the power lines… DOUBLE HOT. As I’m imagining him saving me from atop a set of power lines that I somehow got abandoned on, Kerrie was “alone” and therefore had become prey to a man that circled her continuing to attempt conversation. She’s a pro and master of the look of absolute disinterest, with a hint of disgust, so eventually he gave up and moved along to find his next mark.
Finally we hear the crowd scream and the Deftones stroll onto the stage. The show begins and I assume the babe is going to head back to his group of friends nearby that have been watching him almost the entire we’ve been chatting. But instead, he stays next to me. He leans into my ear to ask me more questions with his hand on my lower back causing electricity to run through my body. At this point I was celibate for 2 years so honestly I could’ve exploded into a million little pieces right there and then so let’s just be impressed I kept my composure. He asks if I want to change shirts with him which is of course, a sneaky little trick, but also insulting because he actually thinks his shirt is more valuable than mine? “I don’t think so bud! Has anyone asked you for pictures today solely because of the shirt you’re wearing?” He laughs at my response and takes a gulp of his beer.
The show comes to an end and as you now know, we only have a mere few minutes to get to the next stage where Sublime’s set would commence. Kerrie slowly begins to walk away while I give the babe a hug and quickly say “See you around”, not allowing myself to get caught in his gorgeous, and extremely flirtatious, blue eyes. He smiles that very, VERY, charming smile of his and gives me a wave with a quick wink before turning away taking another swig of his beer. Damn that was sexy.
I catch up to Kerrie who asks if I got his number to which I say no. She stops dead in her tracks, “ALEX! Why the FUCK wouldn’t you get his number? You guys were vibing AND he’s your type!” She’s pissed. “We don’t even live in the same city! I’m not gonna go bang some dude at a music festival. I’m celibate for a reason…” I say, losing confidence as I hear my own words. Am I celibate for a reason? What is that reason? No, no, no don’t go down that rabbit hole now… “Ya but you never know! It’s always worth keeping in touch with someone just in case!” she says as she picks up the pace while we zigzag through the crowd. She wasn’t wrong…
Later that night when we were back at the hotel doing our nightly routine of laying in bed debriefing with our legs up against the wall, we found the babe on Instagram. Yep, the power of a first name and access to dating apps. My fantasy of being rescued from a power line quickly dissolves as it’s revealed he’s not a helicopter lineman… he’s a social media influencer? WHAT?! An influencer that was invited by the music festival and as a result was in pictures on multiple platforms. I cringe as I relive asking if people had asked him for pictures that day not knowing that he rarely goes a day where he isn’t asked that question. I think back to our conversation and realize those people I thought were his friends, were not his friends… they were fans. Which explained why when he walked away from our conversation for a moment to take a picture with them after they spent a solid 20 minutes watching him - they left…
Kerrie and I proceed to spend 10 minutes red in the face from laughter over this revelation. We’d go back and forth questioning whether or not that was actually him bringing our phone up to our face and squinting at his picture… This can’t be him! His hair didn’t look like this!… True, but he was wearing a hat! But it was him. It was 100% him. At least he didn’t lie to me about his first name… “What a day!” I drop my arm to my side letting go of the grip I had on my phone and ponder what exactly it was about Chad’s face that attracted such a fella… The face? No, I don’t think so. It’s gotta be the hair…
The next day, Monday morning, Kerrie and I pack our belongings into my car to start our long journey home. As we drive along the highway, pop punk from the early 00’s blasting through the speakers, I think back to our weekend. I am in awe of the magic a city like Columbus (a city you’d never heard of) promises. I smile remembering all the wild people we saw that did whatever the heck they wanted fearless to the inevitable judgments of others. I tear up at the beauty of live music and how it fuels my soul in a way nothing else can…
I recall Kerrie and I jumping up and down facing one another singing along to the Foo Fighters in total ecstasy. It was their second show back after their beloved drummer, Taylor Hawkins, had suddenly passed. I have been blessed to have seen them live before and the chemistry amongst them all, especially between Dave Grohl (the main singer) and Taylor, was contagious and like nothing I’ve seen from a band in my lifetime. Now they were in front of us, thousands of us, completely heartbroken and performing without him for only the second time. I could see the sadness in each band members eyes, facial expressions and body language. It was heart wrenching. Dave managed to get through a speech midway through the show in dedication to Taylor, with only a few pauses necessary to stop himself from bursting into uncontrollable tears. It took every ounce of their energy to just simply exist that evening on stage and we, as a crowd, were completely mesmerized by their every move. They were on stage for two hours and as I watched Dave I could see not a second went by where he wasn’t fighting his suffering from within. He fought that entire time to give us all a fantastic show and every member of the Foo Fighters energy surged outward and through every single one of us there that night. The energy of men who pushed through the devastation of their current experience to create a beautiful experience for others. I had chills running up and down my spine for that entire show and I have chills running up and down my spine as I remember it now.
We’re more than halfway home and I turn to see Kerrie looking out the car window with her feet tucked up on the seat. I think back to the third day of the festival when we chose to take a break from standing to sit on the grass in a shaded area off to the side of one stage. We were surrounded by hundreds of people. Some were laying down for a nap, others were chatting excitedly amongst friends, some stared blankly into nothingness, while others looked to the stage swaying along to the music.
For about an hour the two of us discussed a variety of things about life and love. We discover that our shared independent spirit, a large reason as to why we make such great travel buddies, was directly a result of our similar childhood experience. We both grew up in fantastic families that include a sister (mine older, hers younger), with parents that we love and that remain married to this day. We were both funny looking kids that loved playing sports and also had little to no friends. When you grow being your own best friend, you learn how to be alone in the best possible way. You learn how to entertain yourself, how to laugh at yourself, and how to deal (or not deal) with your emotions. On the flip side, you also theorize that maybe people, as a whole, just simply don’t like you. To this day it stalls our ability to connect with someone on a deeper level as we have a wall up protecting, what we believe to be, the high likelihood that whomever stood before us would soon inevitably conclude they don’t like us. If you haven’t gone through at least one therapy session on a trip with your friend then they’re probably not your friend… Oh, and hilariously we also both experienced a classmate of ours in school compare our appearance to that of Hagrid from Harry Potter…Yes, true story. How it happened to both of us seems like some universe level shit confirming our friendship to be “in the stars”.
We pull off the highway and Kerrie directs me back toward her home. She’s got such a gorgeous soul that I only got to fully experience as a result of our weekend together. I am so lucky to have someone as powerful as her in my life who can now see the person I truly am. Someone who knows that if I ever seem standoffish, or disappear for a lengthy period of time, or am on a trip and want to do something on my own, it’s not because I’m a bitch, or selfish, or hate them. It’s because I’m used to being alone, I’m used to not being in a group, I’m used to maneuvering my life solo with no one expecting me to tell them my every move. I care deeply for those around me but keep that inside, where I keep the vast majority of my emotions. It’s safer in there. She understands this on a deeper level because of our shared childhood experience. She can see that part of me and now, I can see that part of her. Perhaps that’s why we so quickly agreed to go on this trip together just the two of us. We may not have yet known this connection, but our subconscious sure did…
Love you, Kerrie.
P.S. Yes, of course we made it back home in just under 9 hours…