Tuesday, August 12, 2008

How I spent my summer vacation, part V: Stop talking about your damn vacation already.

We went to Colorado. Dave Grohl got sick and stood us up for the two nights (Two! Nights!) we had tickets to see the Foo Fighters at Red Rocks. We went hiking. I got altitude sickness. We went hiking some more.

And then? Then, we drove home.

And for the duration of the very, very long drive, we argued a dilemma: Do we use the tickets we have to see Boston and their two not-Brad-Delp singers? Or do we try to scalp some tickets to Foo Fighters, for a show happening at the same time as Boston?

Do we give away our Boston tickets? Do we throw our lives into the hands of the scalping gods?

But mostly: Can I ever love Dave Grohl again? Can I truly give him my heart after he abandoned me?

The answer: Yes. Hell yes, I can love Dave again.

We ate the Boston tickets, which made me sad, as their singers are now the dude from Stryper and a dude who worked at Home Depot. (I’m not kidding.) But I saw the real Boston with my love Brad Delp, so I’m ok.

We scalped some sweet tickets for Foo Fighters. We missed both opening acts. The air was electric.

And then? Then, the lights went out, and My Back-Together-Again Boyfriend Dave Grohl came out and just walked down the stage walkway. No music. Just Dave prowling the audience and telling us without a word that this concert was going to kick some serious ass.

For the first few songs, I thought perhaps he needed a barrette or headband to keep the hair out of his eyes. And then I just got over it and enjoyed being back together with My Boyfriend Dave Grohl. Reunited and it feels so good!

The music was awesome. The showmanship was mind-blowing. And My Boyfriend Dave Grohl? The funniest dude in the entire universe, with the exception of Mr. Wonderful (sorry, but it’s true).

Seriously. He needs a reality show where they just follow him around. I can think of nothing more entertaining that grocery shopping with Dave Grohl. Or Dave Grohl at the vet, discussing his dog’s anal glands. I mean, really. The set included a triangle solo. I can think of no greater example of My Boyfriend Dave Grohl’s coolness.

So, that was my vacation. There was disappointment, pain, joy and, ultimately, redemption.

Oh, and pizza. We ate pizza three nights in a row.