The Legendary Cure Concert

(For Jennie)

In the summer of 2004, Starwood Ampitheatre, which is outside of Nashville, had a special one day, and announced that for that afternoon only, all of the concert tickets for the season were selling for $10 each.  I was on the way home from work and detoured down I-24.  After standing in line for 2 hours, I had tickets for Chicago/Earth Wind And Fire, The Cure, DMB, Sting/Sheryl Crow, OzzFest, and ColdPlay.  I’ve always been a concert lover, and Starwood is a cool outdoor venue.  This is the story of how I didn’t get to see The Cure, and how that $10 concert cost Geoffrey $300.

The Cure was playing on a Wednesday night a few months later, and I was going with Gary and Geoffrey after work.  I’d had a particularly shitty day at my job, and had been just been told that afternoon that I was going to be laid off.  (The reason: our referrals had dried up after one of the doctors, who was hooked on OxyContin, pulled a gun out of his anesthesia fannypack during surgery and threatened to kill another doctor.  This brought Channel 2 News to our office, along with the DEA and the SWAT Team.  In the middle of clinic hours).  So, I was fed up with work, freaked out by the events of the day, stressed out about supporting myself, and ready to kick back at a concert.  On the way to the show, we stopped at Frugal MacDougal’s and loaded up on booze.  Gary fixed me a Jager Bomb in the car.  I filled my flask and stuck it in my bra.  A couple more Jager Bombs in the parking lot, and we were ready to rock.

Walking past the concession stands, we noticed a large Captain Morgan’s display.  Bellying up to the bar, Geoffrey plopped his card down and ordered 3 triples.  In the distance, Arcade Fire was playing as the opening act.  It was still light out, a beautiful fall evening.  We sipped Cap’n and Cokes at a picnic table, and Geoffrey went and gathered another round.  I was getting a serious buzz working.  And I was feeling much more relaxed about work.  "Everyone sucks but us", Gary toasted as we pounded our drinks back.  Geoffrey kept them coming.  Soon my mind was spinning.   Woooooooo, I was feeling fine.  Dandy enough to have a little stroll, wrapped in the blanket I’d brought, since our seats were on the lawn.  G and G went to the bathroom, and I wandered off.

It had rained for a bit that afternoon, and the lawn was muddy.  The last thing I remember was staggering by the crowd and sliding down a hill.  My blanket was long gone.  I guess I decided to take a little disco nap in a mud puddle.  In my miniskirt.  Soooooo sleepy.  I was awoken by a uniformed security guard..  "I’m all set", I told him, lifting my head out of the dirty water.  "Nothing to see here".  Next thing I knew, I was being escorted to security.  IN A WHEELCHAIR.  Mud was encrusted all over my legs, face and hair.  Concertgoers gaped at me as they waited for The Cure to take the stage.  I prayed that none of them were my patients.  In the security office, I puked in a trashcan for awhile, not realizing I was handcuffed to the wheelchair.  Ever hit rock bottom?  That’s where I was.  Or so I thought then (I’ll tell my jail story someday when I’m ready...it’s even worse).  The real police showed up a bit later, and ran my ID.  I had puked myself a bit sober by that time, and repeatedly tried calling Gary and Geoffrey on my cell phone.  Neither one answered.  Eventually, I convinced someone that I was well enough to go find my friends.  Mercifully, I was let go.  I staggered to my car  ("Why Can’t I Be You" played in the background) and sat behind it with my head on the bumper.  I’m not sure how long I was sleeping there when Gary woke me up.  It was, however, long enough for bystanders to decorate me with beer cans and confetti.

"Where the fuck have you guys been?!", he exclaimed wildly, and drunkly.  "I’ve been walking around with a jar of mustard, squirting it on people’s hot dogs and stuff, and looking for you and Geoffrey".  Geoffrey?  I thought they’d be together.  "I’ve been in security in a wheelchair.  I rolled down a hill.  Can we go home now?  Can you drive?".  I laid back down on the bumper.  "What???", Gary exclaimed.  "We haven’t even seen the concert yet!  But fuck it- we’re leaving him here".   Gary took my keys and I climbed in the back seat and fell asleep again.  I awoke to the sound of a voice over a microphone.  "Are we in a drive through?" I asked, as Gary shouted an order into a Jack In The Box receptacle.  "Go back to sleep", he told me.  Soon enough, we were back at my condo, and I was in my own bed. 

The next morning, my alarm rang as usual at 6:30am.  "BOOP.  BOOP.  BOOP.  BOOP."  Every cell in my brain vibrated to the auditory explosion, which was matched with the image of a thousand middle fingers being flipped at me inside my head.  Holy shit.  I had to go to fucking WORK.  If this hangover had happened 2000 years ago, it would have been mentioned in the Bible.   I dragged my ass outta bed, drank a 2 liter bottle of Sprite and 4 Excedrins, showered the mud off my body, and looked for something to wear.  No clean scrubs.  No clean clothes, for that matter.  I threw on a low cut dress and drove to work, hating life. 
At work, where I’d be for only 2 more weeks, I checked out my schedule- 40 patients.  I threw on my lab coat and buttoned it up to my neck, hiding my cleavage.  My nurse, Karen, graciously got me a large bottle of water and asked if I was OK.  "Girl, I feel like I’m gonna die.  I never go out on work nights, but I did last night.  Please be easy on me today".  She was.  At lunchtime, I went outside to my car to take a nap in the back seat.  That’s when I noticed my car, which was parked in the doctor’s lot, was littered with Jager and Morgan bottles.  I moved it to a more vacant area.

After the shift from hell, I realized that I still had no idea where Geoffrey had gotten to.  I called him on the way home.  "Why’d y’all leave me?", he whined.  "I had to take a taxi home, for $75.00.  I was like the last one there in the whole ampitheatre".  Poor Geoffrey.  Add to that his $200 bar tab.

New Rule:  I no longer go out on work nights, no matter what is going on.  I got a better job a few weeks later, and a great reference from work.  I also lay off the hard stuff most of the time.

Maybe someday I’ll get to see The Cure, too.