The Foo Fighters are my son's favorite band. When it was announced they were coming to Kansas City, I was able to get three of my firm's Founder's Club VIP tickets at Sprint Center, i.e., really good seats. I pulled them from a blue interoffice mail envelop (an important detail later on) to show him and then put them safely on top of the pantry. Months passed. Finally, Friday September 16, 2011 arrived. About an hour before we were to leave, my wife warned me "make sure you have the tickets."
"I know exactly where they are," I said. I continued to dork around about thirty more minutes because I knew where they were. As we were about to sit down to a quick dinner, I reached up for the tickets and, sure enough, they were nowhere to be found. Shit. I began a frantic search. If I had moved them, I was drawing an utter blank as to where.
With a slight I-told-you-so-tone, she asked me "are you sure that's where you put them? I don't remember ever seeing concert tickets there." I kept looking and freaking out. I had no clue. After twenty minutes of searching everywhere, she overheard me asking my son if he had seen them and describing the blue envelop.
"Blue envelop?" she asked.
"Yes, a blue firm interoffice mail envelop. That's what they came in." Silence.
"Oh my God." She looked stricken. "I put it out with the recycling. I thought it was just trash." Fuck. I felt sick, as did she. My son was heartbroken. Then my wife reminded me they were VIP tickets and asked whether there was anyone I could call. I vaguely recalled see contact information in an email and dug through by inbox until I found it. In minutes, we had new tickets waiting for us at the will call window.
It's a good thing too, because the Foos put on an amazing show. "We're not like those other bands that play and hour an half set," Dave Grohl announced to an ecstatic crowd. "We don't fuck around." And they didn't. Over the next two and a half hours, they plowed through a twenty five or so long set list. I don't think I've ever seen a band play with more energy, nor one which seems to so genuinely appreciate their audience. Toward the end, they segued into the opening riff of "Breakdown" as Grohl disappeared into the mosh pit to retrieve a stunned female fan. "I don't know this girl," he told us. "But wherever we play, I can look down and I see her face." She turned out to be French and indeed follows the Foos around the world. After serenading her with some Tom Petty, Grohl remarked how great it is to have such devoted fans. "And a little creepy," he added.
Speaking of creepy, Friday may also be remembered for the Foos coming outside before the show to perform "Keep it Clean" in response to the mouth-breathing asshat protestors from the Westboro Baptist Church. Well played, sirs.
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