It is 103 degree and humid, but thankfully we found a spot near one of the gates that at least gets some air movement. Others were not so lucky, choosing to camp out in the concords. The next day I heard that people had been passing out from the heat down there.
Our legs and backs ached from having been standing in the same place for so long. It was almost 11pm (midnight eastern–which our bodies were on).
How did we get here?
It started out innocently. Months ago Cortney got us tickets to An Evening with Pearl Jam at Wrigley Field in Chicago. No opening bands; just Pearl Jam. In Wrigley.
I don’t have the space here to tell you what long-time fans we (mostly Cortney) are. I’ll just say this: I currently have over 40 days straight of music in my itunes on my computer. This is only a fraction of the music we actually own because I don’t have the space (or the desire) to have months worth of live Pearl Jam on my machine. Before we saved our music on hard drives, you could see a 500-disc holder in our basement at LEAST a third of the way filled with live Pearl Jam.
Cortney is in the fan club. Since, like, the beginning of time.
Eddie Vedder (lead singer of Pearl Jam) is a giant Cubs fan. He has always said playing at Wrigley would be the epitome. Clearly playing a baseball field in July is hard to book. But they did, and we got tickets.
It was going to be our “month-late-anniversary-trip.” Our “no-kids-relaxing-fun-weekend.”
Our seats were right on the field (thank you, Fan Club).
Cortney took Friday off from work, secured my parents to watch the boys for the afternoon and over night, booked us a hotel near the train, and had everything planned out to leave by 1pm Est. That would give us time to get there, check in, have a nice dinner and pick up our tickets and Will Call, and the find our seats since the concert start time was 7:30 CT.
The plan was awesome. It was “best laid”. And we all know what they say about the best laid plans?
Yeah. They go right to hell in a hand basket.
First, I woke up on Friday to a bladder infection. I called the doc and they can get me in…at 2pm est. An hour after we planned to leave.
“It’s Ok,” Cortney said, “get it taken care of. They are usually fast, especially on a Friday.”
At 1pm, Cort left to take the boys to my parents’ house. I finished our packing and headed out to my appointment early.
They got me in early! Yay! Things are looking up! Within 15 minutes I am seen and meds are called in and I am out of there.
To give the pharmacy time to process my script, I caledl Cort to tell him I’m done already, hit the bathroom (because, hello, UTI), and then went to the pharmacy. By the time I got there, it had been 15 minutes since the prescription was sent in, so it should have been waiting.
It wasn’t. So I waited.
And waited…a full 30 minutes (45 minutes after the script had been received). I watched other people come and go. I watched the pharmacist leave his job to chat with someone about OTC meds.
Finally I got up and asked, “how much longer? and may I use your bathroom? I am waiting on meds for a BLADDER INFECTION!”
When I got back from the bathroom, I waited five more minutes and it was ready. I may have asked to speak to the pharmacist and I may have told them we are switching pharmacies because of their piss poor service.
In the meantime, Cortney had gotten the boys off to my parents and he had stopped to buy me cranberry juice.
We left for Chicago around 3:30pm est. Finally.
I only needed to stop to pee four times during the 150 mile trip. I count that as winning.
And then, 10 miles from our hotel, we hit this:
Our GPS (who we have named Judy Garmin. Don’t ask) told us that it was 10 minutes to our hotel with a minute delay due to traffic. I had to pee (again), but decided to hold it because…10 minutes. Right?
Oh and as we sat there? We noticed this:
So an hour later, we finally get to our hotel (I ran to pee as Cort got our luggage and talked to the valet), check in, and by then it was closing on 6:30 local time. We had to make like a baby and head out…quick!
I left my meds in the room because, well, we will be back by midnight for me to take the next dose and I really don’t want to carry my precious pee meds around Chicago.
The red line was like four steps from out hotel, so we jumped on and headed to Wrigley.
Holy. People. Batman.
Now I don’t know who organized the gig, if it was Pearl Jam’s people or the Wrigley people, but getting in was a shit show.
Field access people (us) had one entrance. Seemed legit. Until we walked all the way around the dang field to the one Field Access Entrance and as soon as we got in it mooshed us with the non-field people at a stand immediately in the entrances so we could get a wrist band that proved we could have field access.
To say it felt like I was in a mosh pit is an understatement.
People pushed and shoved to get to the TWO people putting wristbands on. Why they couldn’t have done this as we went in the FIELD ACCESS entry, I have no idea.
We were hot and sweaty, but we had wrist bands, so we went to find out seats.
This ends part one. This story is too long to continue in one post. Stay tuned for music, storms, and being crushed on the Red Line in the next installment.