It is not the place you miss of course. It is the people, friends and lovers that are left behind. And it is the all and all rarer occasions you can think of these people gathered together, while you are away. These moments you miss the most. And Saturday was one of these days.
Pearl Jam were playing in the OAKA sports hall, back in Athens. Some friends were there, others wished they could and were waiting at a bar downtown to listen all about the concert. I was in front of my computer in my room, having completely forgotten all about the event I have waited for more than half of my adult life. And then the phone rang, I saw Zoe's number and still had not made the connection until I heard her voice, screaming "Hi" over the rythmic introduction of "Wishlist". I talked a bit with Thodoris, who in a -more intense than his usual average- state of mental derangement, tried in vain to pronounce what must have been his best attempt to verbally express his exhilaration. Then they let me listen to the song for a good half minute.
Suddenly I felt more homesick than I 've ever been since I got here. During the following seconds, I did not only miss being at the concert. (Although Pearl Jam is probably the last of the mega-bands of my time -they just don't make them like they used to anyway- and the only one I still consider a must-see before I stop going to big stadium concerts and stick to classy theaters more suited for my early thirties...)
What I missed was the whole package. The days before the concert, listening to all of your university years-albums to warm up. The same morning, waking up with that special feeling that you don't have to do absolutely anything apart from staying well for the evening (the feeling you only get before big concerts and big football games!). Then the concert itself, jumping like crazy on the shoulders of your friends, going for a drink afterwards being hardly able to speak, stinking of sweat, beer and utter happiness!
Come to think of it, the things I miss are all the small pieces of the puzzle that constitutes my youth. It is hard for one to admit he is missing his prime at the age of 28 but how much differently am I supposed to interpret the fact that I long for all the things that were perfectly natural at 18? Maybe it is the longing for such moments or evenmore the fact you still get to experience them once in a while that keeps us young, even at 28!!! In fact, if I was to make a "Wishlist" of my own it would be largely occupied by loud laughters, huge concerts and hoarse-voice post-concert gatherings.
I was missing from OAKA last Saturday, but I promise myself it won't happen again.
No comments:
Post a Comment