123 hours of travel time (5.125 days), 10 different cities in 3 different countries, countless tears shed, many laughs had, one shot of whiskey with Ted, two sweaty hugs with Winston, sun-kissed cheeks and noses, many dollars spent on merchandise (and beer), discovering small American towns and ancient European cities. It's funny to think my history with the band started in a giant, travelling hot dog; it's nice to know the journey continues to be just as wild and ridiculous. I’m happy to know the past 6 years with this band has been one of the greatest adventures of my life.
LITTLE ROCK, ARKANSAS
I ask for a local beer to make myself seem cool. Bartenders like that, right? I can't get any pizza because all I've had are fiber protein bars and I feel like I will shit out all of my insides. Christ. I look around. Is it super noticeable that I'm awkwardly alone? It's probably super obvious.
I sit in a Little Rock pizzeria, counting down the painfully slow minutes. I'm surrounded by couples and groups of friends, all most likely attending the same show that I will be. I sit there alone, uncomfortably crossing my legs, smeared lipstick, looking deeply involved with my phone. I'm texting him. I told myself I wouldn't, but here we are. He doesn't respond, and I feel even more alone.
****
2010. Chicago. I thought I had liked him, but I suppose the only reason we dated is because he was the first guy ever to be remotely interested in me. The reality is, I hated him. But I always felt obligated to stay. I would listen to the band on repeat, singing of romance in the most beautiful way. I thought it couldn't be reality because my relationship wasn't like that. It would take me some months, but I finally realized that maybe they were right. The blizzard of 2011 was spent inside, curled up in a ball, the boy being ditched, but my pillow was still damp with tears but being assured through the lyrics of After the Storm that everything would be okay. He was gone, but I wasn't alone.
BIRMINGHAM, ALABAMA
I anxiously check my phone. 12:57. I wait. 12:59. What.
I hate to admit this isn't the first time I've met a stranger off the internet. But this time it's from a Mumford and Sons fan site... she won't like, murder me, right? And this one said she'd bring me alcohol. I suppose that doesn't sound much better. However, I set off this year in hopes to have new experiences and to meet new people, so what the hell. What I was hoping for was someone to wait in line with me so I can be in the front, but what met me outside of BJCC was a purple haired, 31-year-old mother. She didn't much feel like waiting in line for the show, but rather to sit outside, drink whiskey, and wait for the band. I tend not to do those things, I'm usually to shy and terrified that I will be annoying the band but, at least I had a friend to push me out of my comfort zone.
Hours go by; we have conversations about what songs the band has covered, Laura Marling and Bear's Den, and the copious amounts we're traveled just to see them. It's nice to meet other fans. The sun reddened our foreheads, and before too long we had shared hugs with Winston and whiskey with Ted. After the show we followed up with the other two and before I knew it, I had four shiny new signatures on my phone case, and enough stories to tell for a lifetime.
****
2012. Birmingham, England. We had been crushed for hours. The band sung on a B stage in the back of the arena, but the drunken chavs behind his blocked the sound. Rania was crying and there was nothing I could do about it. I felt so guilty; I had convinced her to come. We had only met a few months earlier. We were waiting in line at Rough Trade East, her telling stories in her British accent and I was immensely confused as to why she kept talking about Oslo. It took me awhile to put two and two together to figure out she was from Norway. We had only known each other for a couple of hours before I told her of my plans of travelling to Birmingham to see them there. She whole-heartedly agreed to come with me. After the soul-and-literally-body-crushing night we redeemed it (a little) by meeting Marcus. From there on, we would see the band in London, Paris, and Lewes. But more importantly, I had found a friend; a kindred spirit and companion, if only to habitually promote my obsessive tendencies.
NASHVILLE, TENNESSEE
Mm. I think I took it too far. I think I scared him off. I tell him that I can be a bit... wild when surrounded by the band. He tells me to release the monster. His death wish!
The night started with moonshine and ended with whiskey. Lots of whiskey. Andrew had never seen the band and I had never taken a non-crazy Mumford fan to their shows, but it was actually entirely stress-free, spending our time in the back, dancing wildly. We do-si-do during I Will Wait and jump like crazy during The Wolf. We're joined by a lone stranger, displaying the same amount of firey energy and I close my eyes, raise my hands in the air, and scream; a mere excuse to be human.
****
2010-2016. Chicago. London. Nashville. I never know anyone when I move to a new city; the only thing that keeps me company is the music I keep. Lone nights spent in, friendless and scared in a new city, normally resulted in me putting on a pair of headphones and dancing alone in my room to these tunes that I've heard so many times before. There's always going to be the music, and there's always going to shows and the people who make them so enjoyable, and there will always be the tears and nights spent alone. And they will always be there, the band that's stuck with me through and through for six years to entertain and to comfort.
Mumford and Sons, I'm yours.
