I've only been a Beatles fan for eight or nine years. In the grand scheme of things that I've been a fan of, the Beatles are not nearly one of my most prolific loves. But they do have an important role in my life.
Without me really realizing it, Paul was clearly my favorite. John was a little too angsty for me, George was too quiet, and ringo reminded me of my little brother. This isn't just in personalities. I loved most of the primarily-by-Paul songs before I even knew who wrote them.
I've been to maybe a dozen concerts in my life, but most of them have been small community or radio-type concerts (I saw Taylor swift in a $5 concert series 2006 to coincide with her debut album, Josh Abbott's annual 4th of July show in Lubbock, that sort of thing.) the only other big show I've seen was Elton John in April 2010...Elton had an AWESOME show. Two and a half hours long, all amazing songs, it was great. I would say of living songwriters, Elton and Paul are my favorites. After seeing Elton, seeing Paul was an item on my bucket list: see Macca in concert before he dies.
At some point, I guess I signed up for Paul McCartney email alerts. This last September and October, I was working a temp job, and after every 20th page of data entry, I let myself check my email or browse the Internet for five minutes.
One day in the middle of September I got an email saying he was playing four dates in north America: St. Louis, Houston, Edmonton, and Vancouver. I said, "that would be so great!" but it was on a Wednesday so I didn't buy them.
With the prodding of k8_26_2, I decided to buy them. Cheap seats because McCartney needs to make up for divorcing heather mills, but I bought them and got excited.
I had mentioned it to Jack, who you may know as my not-so-secret unrequited love/best friend of ever. He mentioned in passing that he might be interested in going, but whenever I mentioned it again, he got all weird. (Note: Jack loves McCartney. He's more of a strictly-Beatles guy whereas I love Wings and solo stuff, but I figured he would like to go with me.) It was a Wednesday, and he works driving busses at his college, which is not far away from Houston. Houston is 10 hours away from our house, though, so it was going to be a long drive. And then he started complaining about how he was lucky to get thanksgiving off of work, so I didn't push it. (Things have been weird between us since he moved into his new house. I think one of the roommates kind of makes fun of him about our relationship--the phone calls have gotten shorter and more furtive and the texts are sporadic...when his new roommate is out of town, it's more normal to what we always have been.)
Anyway, Jack couldn't go, so I asked my best female friend/partner in crime, but her birthday was on Monday and she has stuff to do so she couldn't go. So I thought about just selling my tickets but THEY NEVER CAME BECAUSE OF SNOREASTERCANE SANDY. I had to pick them up at will call. Meaning I had to go. So I asked my mom. My mom works from home and basically sets her own hours, so it's pretty easy for her to get up and go wherever she wants. She agreed to come with me, and we left. Long ride, introduced her to John Mulaney's stand up, never heard her laugh so hard at stand-up.
Anyway, here's the set list with some of my comments:
And then it was the Abbey Road Medley. And I just fucking bawled my eyeballs out screaming and crying and singing along.
When we moved to Texas, I couldn't sleep. I couldn't sleep and I couldn't breathe when I was supposed to be sleeping. When I did manage to fall asleep, I had nightmares. The only way that I could bring myself to fall asleep was to listen to the end of the Abbey Road Medley (Golden Slumbers-Carry That Weight-The End) on repeat. I would cry and cry and cry but it would calm me down and I could sleep. It wasn't great sleep, but it allowed me to deal with the shittiness of my life.
We had drunk belligerent ladies sitting next to me. They were terrible. Every 30 seconds they would scream about how they were so happy and how Paul looked good and he still had it.
It was just so good, you guys. Life-changing experience.
My mom was born in 1967 and so knew some songs (Wings especially) inherently, but really, only three or four of the 30-odd songs he played. The whole time I was there, I was thinking, fuck, i wish he was here with me. And then All the Songs Make Sense and that really didn't help with the emotion that I was feeling.
This is really disjointed, but I was also having an emotional day because my mom insisted on shopping (I hate shopping) and she made me try on pants because none of my pants fit (i've gone up two sizes from the last time I bought pants). And when I looked at them, they were HUGE. I looked at them and they were SO BIG and then they fit perfectly and I just...I couldn't contain myself. Like, I feel terrible about the way I look, but there is nothing that makes me want to try and lose weight. My eating habits haven't changed in the last four years or so, and neither has my exercise level. I have an idea as to why I've gained the weight (hormone imbalance) but really don't want to go to the doctor--I'm not working so I feel pretty damn useless and I hate people spending money on me or on myself when I am not doing anything productive with my time.