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Frantic about Opeth Show Readable...

I was sitting in a booth at the Green Room bar, Showbox Market. Dan had to work that night, so I was just hanging out. Adam Superfan showed up with a friend and we shot the shit for a few minutes. Some more of his friends arrived and he asked if I was going to the Opeth show that was at the Showbox tonight. I totally freaked out, having not realized it was going on. I started yelling at him, "You never told me! Did you get me a ticket like you said you would?!" He didn't. He felt really bad and started acting really sheepish. His friends went in and he stuck around to see if he could help me get in the show.
It wasn't just a concert, it was the second installation of the art piece, Substrata, whose first manifestation brought Oren Ambarchi and Eluvium to a small, intimate venue in Seattle. Bottom line, I HAD to get into the show. Adam said there were still tickets available, so I frantically tried to find my phone to call and order. I'm looking all over, trying to find the phone number for the box office. There was a poster on the wall which had a number on it, so I dialed it. It was a recording that picked up and the message was garbled and unhelpful. I was frustrated and panicked since the show was going to start in only a few minutes. A bouncer walked over to the table and I begged with him to help me find a way in. He'd overheard the conversation and informed me that the number I had dialed was for the tattoo shop upstairs. There was a punk dude sitting in the booth behind me and when he overheard that, he stood up and said, "That's a great idea! I'll get in through the tattoo shop." But the bouncer recognized him and they gave a hug and the bouncer just ushered him right in. This only compounded my stress about the situation.
Daniel Nelon showed up and sat in the booth with me. He was with Hoang, a friend of mine from high school. They were both super stoked and asked if I was going in to the show. I told him that I'd just found out about it and desperately asked if they had an extra ticket. They hatched a plan almost immediately. Hoang pulled out a sheet of barcode stickers. He sprayed them with water so they were runny and messed up. Then he pulled out a ticket from the Phish show and put one of the stickers on the ticket, obscuring the name. They figured that the door people wouldn't be paying that much attention and that I could just use the funky ticket. I wasn't at all convinced of the efficacy of the plan and wasn't even willing to try.
They apologized and headed in. I was left alone at the booth, still bummed.
Adam disappeared. The bar cleared out, as people headed inside for the show.
I wandered around, wracking my brain for clever ideas. At one point, I contemplated making a sign that said, "Blowjob for Ticket". I thought about the consequences of something like that and for a moment wondered if Dan would understand.
Walking around the now empty bar, I felt really awkward. I felt ugly and left out. My purse was full of junk - it was a hoarder's purse. I was ashamed that someone might see it and judge me.
In the back of the bar, medic teams were setting up tables in case people needed medical attention. Under one of the folding tables, I saw a puddle. Laying in the puddle were two necklaces, which I recognized immediately. They were both extremely important to me and though I didn't remember having worn them, I was so relieved to have found them.
I was so overwhelmed with emotion from the evening's proceedings, I started crying to myself. Two women came up. One was a volunteer, the other was one of the event managers. She asked me what was wrong and I explained it all, starting with how bummed I was about missing the show, but how grateful I was that instead I had found these necklaces that meant so much to me.
The manager apparently felt sorry for me. I mentioned that it was Adam's fault for not letting me know in time to get tickets. She was clearly impressed that I knew Superfan and the topic turned to the fact that I had given him his mickey tattoo. Then we started talking about all the people I'd tattooed and she knew several of them. She eventually just pulled out a scrap of paper about the size of a business card, and wrote on the back that I had permission to go into the show, with a plus 2.
I was elated! The only thing she warned me about was making sure the office didn't find out, since it would get her in trouble. I promised and started digging through my purse to find some business cards. I found a few but they were all water damaged and kind of gross. The other girl pointed this out to me and I was embarrassed for a moment, but then I didn't give a shit and ran off toward the venue to catch the show that was just about to start.
As I ran, I tried to text Dan but my phone was just not working. I was scared I wouldn't get through to him, but then he just appeared by my side. I guess he'd gotten the psychic text message. I was super stoked now!
It was a pain to find the door we were supposed to enter. It was no longer Showbox Market, but rather a series of music recital halls. There were three separate shows going on. We were talking using sign language as we searched for the right door. I'm not sure why, but I think it made me feel more sophisticated, and maybe they'd take us more seriously that way.
We finally found the door and approached the ticket-taker. I dug through my purse and found the scrap that the woman had written on. The guy looked at it and laughed and said, "No way, nice try." I started to protest, but he walked back and sat on his stool. I just looked at him right in the eye. It didn't take long for him to see what I'd been through to get here tonight. He threatened to take it up to the office and I told him that he couldn't do that. I just looked at him hard. Finally he gave in, seeing that I'd been crying and had a rough night just to get this far. With a roll of his eyes, he waved us in.
Dan and I ran in. The room was well lit and mostly empty. There were about 20 shaggy looking punk kids hanging out around the periphery. Dan and I sat right in the middle. Opeth came out and started right away. They didn't look like themselves. They looked like the characters from "The Devil's Rejects" and the front man was Rob Zombie. They were all painted up and colorful. There were only two men in the band. The other three were women.
They began with an acoustic version of Bjork's Hyperballad. The three women were playing strings, two cellos and a violin. They sounded completely awful. The instruments were completely out of tune, but rather than stop, they just made faces at one another and each other and kept playing. Suddenly the strings on one of the cellos all broke at once. They were made of colorful wool roving which isn't strong at all and she had just bowed it right apart. This brought the whole show to a stop.
We sat patiently, hoping that after fixing it, the music will be way better.
In the last part of the dream, I was watching closely as she was nimbly trying to spin the strings back together.

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