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Some people go to great lengths to attend the musical performance of their choice. Middle aged washed-up hippies donning Hawaiian shirts, parrot hats, and Caribbean-style beads, flock in a sea of bright and blinding colors to the obnoxious sounds of the man they call Jimmy Buffet. Thousands of screaming teenage girls swarm like the Black Plague and pay hundreds of dollars for a one-way ticket to hell to catch a glimpse of such mindless pop-cultures whores as N Sync and Britney Spears. For my friends and I, it was just a simple trip to Penn States main campus in the sweltering heat of a mid-July day in 2000 to see a band we followed religiously.
The idea for this trip started as most concert-bound road trips do, with a group of ten indecisive teenagers who all gave their word they would be there when they heard the heaven-sent phrase, Less Than Jake is coming. The number of explorers on this expedition quickly dwindled to a final courageous group of four. The only four misfit youths to stick with our love for this band were Chris, Jay, Matt, and me. Chris, whose gelled hair fell forward like wet palm leaves in such a manner that I have never seen duplicated, was the fearless driver. Then there was Jay, who wore baggy clothes and had curly red hair that brought him to resemble a pumpkin as it sat on top of his stubby head, who was the youngest and had just recently convinced his parents to let out some slack on their leash of authority.
Next was Matt, who stood at least six feet tall and had the super-human ability to put a smile on anyones face and pull him out of the deepest slums of depression with one of his dumb jokes or trite pick up lines. Finally, there was me, with a messy crop of short hair that had been dyed the glowing color called wild fire; I was just happy to be with my friends who I loved like brothers. As we arrived at State Colleges main campus and realized that we had no tickets to this sold-out show, we all felt a little disappointed but swallowed the lumps in our throats and kept hope. After walking for an hour, our shoes seemed to stick to the hot pavement as we drudged along, unsuccessfully searching for skate shops and scalpers who might have some spare tickets. Our last hope for eternal happiness was to sit outside the club and wallow in our misery while waiting for a miracle.
Our miracle came; it came in the form of Chris and Roger, the guitarist and bass player who were also the lead vocalists. As these two angels in disguise descended the stairs, I could see an ingenious plan unfolding in the eyes of my palm leaf-headed friend. He explained his plan of simply begging these two walking miracles for a way into their show as we tailed them to a record store down the street. We wished Chris the best of luck as we forced him through the door to carry out his daring mission on his own.
The chains of despair were lifted from my back as Chris emerged with a smile on his face. As we once again approached the doors of the club, Chris handed each of us a small cloth sticker that read I know the band, I swear- Less Than Jake. Not only had our fearless driver gotten us into the show, he had gotten us in without paying for anything. We entered the club in pairs of two as to not seem too suspicious. When an angry, stout lady at the ticket booth asked where we got our passes, we seemed frozen in place. A moment of awkward silence was broken when Jay simply yet confidently blurted From the band.
The show started with the usual onslaught of local opening bands that numbed the crowd with boredom. We managed to live through this torture when suddenly the room went dark. A silence that overcame the crowd was broken when the familiar sound of horns chimed in and nobody could stand still any longer, Less Than Jake had taken the stage. Music has an indescribable power over people. People will always be willing to make sacrifices for the music of their choice; whether it be an absurd amount of money, a hangover due to a night of drinking margaritas and smoking pot, or just traveling a hundred miles to be soaked in someone elses sweat while enjoying a show, all are deemed a small price to pay for the music that makes them happy.
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Research essay sample on Fearless Driver Main Campus Chris
