Beyond anything I could ever imagine.
(via kristenhstn) (via sandstang)
Last night, as my head hit the pillow after too many cocktails with friends, I thought about how I’m too old for a 2:30 am bedtime on a school night. I mentally scolded myself, promised to drink only smoothies, exercise and go to bed at 9 pm the next day. But right before I turned over to pass out, I checked my Twitter feed and saw a tweet from John Mayer that he was playing an impromptu 3 am show at a tiny bar close to my apartment.
Pete was dog-sitting at his boss’s apartment and asleep already, so I sat there rationalizing with myself. This is ridiculous. I can’t get up and go to a rogue show in the middle of the night. I mean, I have wet hair from showering. I can’t go to a bar alone – and even if I did, it’s probably already packed. There’s no way I can get enough makeup on in time to make him fall in love with me. And I have a 9 am conference call! Turn over and go to bed.
And then I sat straight up and said, “I’m going” out loud. I threw on my Converses and jeans and ran out into the street still wearing my pajama shirt, letting my damp hair get damper from a residual downpour.
When I got to the bar, a handful of people were closing out their drunken nights. Couples were stumbling up the stairs, groups of friends were finishing their drinks and the tables were virtually empty. I paid the $10 cover and the waitress told me I could sit anywhere, so I chose a table up against the stage and ordered a beer.
About 15 minutes later, John Mayer walked in, said hi to me as he hopped on stage and then proceeded to play a two and a half hour show approximately 6 inches from my head.
John would say, “What do you want to hear?,” I would say a song, AND THEN HE WOULD PLAY IT. The bar started filling up throughout the show, but even at capacity, maybe 80 people were there. He did some stand-up in between songs and heckled me when he heard the “ding” of my phone getting a text. He wanted to see it, but after a quick game of verbal tug of war, my squealy texts to Kate remained unviewed. He played his acoustic guitar with old shoelaces tied on it, intertwining Fleetwood Mac, the Police, Jay-Z, and Tom Petty with his songs, and I sang every word.
I sat there alone, watching one of my favorite musicians play a show that I know I will remember for the rest of my life. Fifty years from now, when one of his songs comes on an oldies station, I will tell my grandchildren about the time I got out of bed to go see John Mayer play at a basement bar in the Village.
When the show was over, I told him thank you and I meant it. I pushed through the heavy doors and saw for the first time what the city looks like covered in the breaking light of dawn. My hair was dry and I walked home past early runners and shop owners pulling up their grates.
Only here. I love New York.
