Reading a certain blog has really got me thinking of fun adventures and good and/or interesting times I've had in my life, which is often a wonderful thing to be thinking about. This particular instance was probably one of the most fun days I had in my freshman year of college. It was one of those days where everything (even the seemingly bad things) led to fun. And it all revolved around our tickets to a small, but popular U.S. tour by the Korean hip hop band Epik High. So thanks Tablo. I owe you one. : P
Let's start with a little recap. I met my friend Caitlin at the beginning of our freshman year of college through her roommate, my friend at the time who I'd known in high school. After a ridiculous first meeting (courtesy of my Wreck This Journal and Caitlin's perfect timing) I managed not to scare her off and we quickly became good friends. Through this friendship, I somehow adopted her obsession with all things Japanese, and especially pop culture, that she'd harbored from high school (my high school foreign country obsession had been England, which began my continuing love for The Mighty Boosh and Dylan Moran, although the obsessing has dropped in intensity).
To make a long story short, this Japanese pop culture interest lead to a Korean pop culture interest and that left the two of us, plus Caitlin's then good friend and several Japanese exchange students she knew, with tickets to the Epik High concert in San Francisco.
The day of the concert, we came into town early, although San Francisco is only about an hour and a half away, in order to spend the afternoon playing in the city before the concert that night. Being jobless college freshmen at the time, we were very budget-minded (i.e. cheap) and therefore, as was our custom, parked in the parking structure at San Francisco State for a $5 all day pass with the intention of taking the Muni across town to the concert venue, instead of fighting for parking and probably paying over $30 for the day.
Walking across campus on our way to the Muni station, we happened to be spotted by my good friend from high school, Mel, who I had serveral times visited there, but hadn't informed of our plans on this particular day. Being a Saturday, she had nothing planned and decided to hang out with us before the concert. The three of us- Caitlin, Mel, and I - hopped on the Muni and headed down to the pier. Once we arrived at the docks, we used our tickets to hop on a trolley (for those who've never used the Muni, it's an amazing combination of a sort of subway/light rail that travels both above and below ground, a bus system, and a trolley system. It's awesome if you don't want to spend much money because for the time period in which it's valid, one ticket purchased works for all three) and headed down to Pier 39 to run around and be touristy, for lack of anything better to do.
A few hours later, Mel had to head back to the Muni station to meet up with some friends back at school, but the trolley was crowded and we weren't sure when there would be another, so we decided to walk all the way back to Pier 1 (not a crazy distance, but still quite a ways, especially when it wasn't planned and you're dressed to be cute at a concert). When we got there, we all took a breather before saying bye to Mel. Caitlin and I sat in front of the Pier 1 building for about another hour, people watching and quietly judging the moves of the trick bikers that always hang out in that spot across the street, before we made our way back over to the Muni station.
Now, I'm not sure if it's in their best interest to do it this way, but often, when entering these stations (or buses. Or trolleys) there is someone in a glass booth and you flash your prepurchased ticket toward them and they wave you through without a very close inspection. Oftentimes, it is quite easy to get through with a recently expired ticket. Just cover up the time a bit with your thumb in a seemingly accidental way and bam - you're through (I actually spent the weekend with Mel on a different occasion and made it through the whole time using her expired bus pass everywhere I went). This time, however, we ran into the one woman who decided she needed to closely inspect the tickets. What's more, they weren't even expired for another five to ten minutes, but this woman insisted we buy new tickets.
Now, the tickets for these things are about $1.50 - not exactly unfair pricing. But being po' arse college freshmen, we were both unwilling to part with extra cash (jeez) and felt a sort of moral indignation at not getting away with our usual trick. Seriously, no one ever gets caught doing this! We have to be the only two?
A long story short (yeah, obviously working out real well so far. This long story is so short right now. So short), we decided to walk to the concert. The concert on the top of the hill. The concert on the top of the hill in San Francisco. Sigh. I don't know what we were thinking. I don't know if you're familiar with the hills in San Francisco, but, uh... they're tall. And I know they're not moutains, and it's not like the going's treacherous, but, they are pretty straight-the-hell up. Like vertical. Like climbing a lowercase L. Thinking back, I should have been happy to pay $1.50 to avoid that. But oh no. Moral indignation. Sigh.
So with maybe an hour and a half left before the concert at this point, we start to climb. From flat ground, all the way to the freaking top. Let me just tell you- there is quite a lot of cursing and heavy breathing involved in this process. This is the kind of hill that is almost harder to go down than it is to go up, only because every step feels like your stepping off the edge of the world and the slower you go, the more it feels like falling. Not that I'm bitter. But enough about hills... :-P
So we reached the concert venue slightly behind schedule and a bit sweaty and went to meet Caitlin's friend and the exchange students in line. Our seats were good for poor college kids - front few rows of the balcony, only slightly off center, but we knew we weren't getting anywhere near the stage. Epik High was featuring other bands on their tour - all of whom were Korean American (some kind of Korean solidarity, I believe) and most of them were good. I believe it was the first time I had heard of the Far East Movement, who weren't yet popular outside of L.A. Epik High puts on a great show, it has to be said, and this is coming from someone who knew little of their music previous to the concert.
After the concert, realizing that we didn't know where the closest Muni station was, we decided that we would simply have to walk all the way back down the hill to the one we usually use (I know, no more about hills. I'm sorry). I was secretly dragging my feet, hoping - like many other fans standing outside the venue - to catch a glimpse of the band after the show. But it was late and we still needed to get back to the school and then to San Jose where Caitlin is from and I was staying for the weekend. So we saw the boys (the Japanese exchange students) off (they had foolishly chosen to park at the venue, where they may have avoided sweating, but it cost them a pretty penny. Not like us smart people. Yup) and began our descent.
A few blocks later, there was a bit of a commotion going on in the distance. As we got closer, we realized that it was people scrambling to take pictures. With who, you ask? That's right. With the band. We ran into the band on the street after the concert. They had finally gotten rid of all the picture seeking fans as we approached and were about to cross the street, which we also needed to do. Wanting to seem cool and together, and non-fangirly, we walked next to them, said hello and complimented the show, before calming waving goodbye as we turned to continue down the hill and they walked straight toward their tour bus. The ones that spoke English thanked us for the compliments and for liking them, before nodding goodbye.
That's right, fan girls. I was close enough to Tablo to see that the beanie he wore onstage was sparkly. And that's not something you can tell from far away. :-P
How eventful could the night really be after that? We made it back to the car, got some stereotypical two in the morning Jack in the Box (or Jack in the Crack, as we artfully referred to our favorite late-night grease fest), and drove home to San Jose (my temporary for that weekend home). I'm pretty sure it was close to five in the morning after we dropped off Caitlin's friend and finally made it back to her house. Her parent's weren't thrilled.
What a great freshman year adventure. Just remembering it brings back my old (all of three years) wanderlust. :-D
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