This post is an outgrowth of two things. First was a comment I wrote for a post on Howard Jones, that after reading felt like a post starter more than a comment. It has been reprised here in its entirety. Second inspiration was Blair's often-hilarious Craigslist missed connection musical dedications, which show that your garden-variety "missed the show b/c I was broke" won't work here. No, there's some REAL pain involved.

Please don't misunderstand, this is no plea for pity. I've seen some great shows in my time. How can we really appreciate the sweet if we do not suffer the bitter, though? Know what I mean?

And so, we begin ...

1985, I'm a sophomore in high school, and not exactly the height of popularity. (shocking, no?) There's a new concert arena that opens not far from home (Irvine Meadows, not sure what it's called now), and Howard Jones plays there. I go ahead and get a ticket, but can't find a ride with any friends. My mom bails on giving me a ride, so I miss the show. The next day, HALF the student body is wearing HoJo concert T-shirts, and I'm left with a burning desire to cut my eyes out. :(

A few years later, I find myself in Tucson for college. At the time, Tucson is a bit of a wasteland; only one decent radio station, and not a lot of shows by bands I recognize. Invariably though, a band I would want to see, such as Nitzer Ebb or My Life With The Thrill Kill Kult (slight industrial phase, heh) would come through ... on Sunday. Gaaaaaah!

1999, and I'm now living in Longmont, about 30 miles north of Denver. The local station, KTCL , manages to organize a electronic festival, "Rave on the Rocks", with BOTH Fatboy Slim AND The Chemical Brothers. I snap up a ticket, but before the concert comes, I get in an accident and get my license suspended. Melissa's so upset that I don't dare ask her to drive me, and DEFINITELY don't dare drive myself. Another ticket in the wastebasket.

2001, Black Rebel Motorcycle Club has just released their debut album, and it's begun to really grab my ears. I was casually checking the concert calendar on the local college radio website and find that they're playing at a small dive bar on Capitol Hill in Denver, the 15th Street Tavern (Erin, you ever go there?), and on a night that I can attend. I even have my license back at this point (see previous item). But ... I wuss out. I decide that I spend too much time away from home at work, and bail. I'm now convinced that they've now cursed me so I will never see them live.

The point? I don't really have one. Well, that's not true. First, when you have an opportunity to see a band you like someplace small, GO GO GO ! You never know when you'll catch a rising star, like Erin's recent post on Nirvana. Second, take the time to organize your rides BEFORE buying a ticket.

This has proven quite cathartic, really. So, you guys got any horror stories to add, or have I scared you off? ;)

But hey, at least I've never missed a show because my girlfriend with the tickets knocked herself out with a potted plant in the tub. If you think this is an opportunity to pop in a Cribs video, you know me too well.

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