This post has many possible sub titles:
- How I spent half the day angry at everyone
- Construction season in Illinois’ guide to anger and rage
- How to be late for a concert
- Sonny Landreth the best guitarist you’ve never heard of
- An 87 year old diabetic blues player flirts with young women.
- Peter Frampton sings the 3 of his songs you actually know
- Optional serious note.
This past friday I had tickets to see Peter Frampton’s Guitar Circus at the RiverEdge Park in Aurora Illinois. The venue doesn’t have any seating and you have to bring your own chairs. Sadly there won’t be many pictures. They didn’t allow cameras into the venue and I was far away for my phone.
How I spent half the day angry at everyone:
The trip from where I live in the middle of cornfieldonia in central Illionis to Aurora usually takes me about 2:30 hours. Most of the route follows the interstates. Being a regular working schlub I had gotten permission to take a half day. I work in a small team that just recently added a fourth person. The same day of the concert my boss and the senior programmer would both be at a conference. So the new guy knew it would be the first time he would be helming the ship by himself. It is friday afternoon, a time when very little happens.
Friday morning I arrived at work and started fixing something that had broken. I noticed that the new guy wasn’t there. No problems he knew he had to be there. I watched the hours drop by. It hit noon. I was annoyed and had no clue what was going on. If the new guy was out I would deal and just miss the concert. I had not received an email or any info. I texted my boss. No response. Finally I looked the window at 12:30 and saw him coming into the building.
Being the very organized kind of person I am, I jumped in my car and started. Just kidding. I lollygagged around eating lunch and wasted time. I realized it was 2:30 and I needed to leave to arrive on time. Remember the info bit above about needing to bring your own chair? Well ten minutes down the road I realized I didn’t have my chair with me. I grumbled and turned around. Back on the road I tried to make up time. Illinois conspired against me. It was construction season. The road narrowed to one lane and my speed dropped. About five miles later, the road opened up and I sped, well as fast as a Ford Fiesta can speed, toward my goal. A couple of miles later I saw the sign, “Right lane closed in 2 miles”. “Again”, I growled. Thus my journey slowed. I ran into four spots where the road narrowed to one lane and the traffic sowed. Near the end of my journey on the interstate the traffic finally sped up and I started making time. Unfortunately the delays meant I arrived at the surface streets just during rush hour. Time after time I ended up stopped at a green light. Yes I said green light. The light would be green and we didn’t move. I started yelling at the cars and the lights. I arrived at my destination only forty minutes late. My friend usdrove to the concert venue but we kept getting stuck in slow traffic.Much synchronized cursing of the cars, the lights, the city planners, and Peter Frampton himself.
We arrived at the venue to find a chaotic mess. They charged people to park but didn’t keep track of how many people where parking. Luckily we found a space and headed toward the park. At the door the nice security man informed us of no cameras. I didn’t have a camera but my friend did. She angrily tromped off back to the car to put the camera away.
After a somewhat long wait, she came through the gates. She told me that everything in the parking lot was going crazy. People had called the police trying to get their money back from the parking people.
Despite all this we made the start of the concert.
I realized how long this has grown and my battery is about to die so I will finish the rest of the story in another post.