Trendy Festival-itis or Livin' On A Prayer (Day Two - in which I legitimately fangirl.)

Did I mention that I am now in love with Paul Griffiths? Because I am. Someone please clone him for me. Thank you.

 Let’s start the post about Day Two by talking about the ridiculous hotel we stayed at. The Renaissance. We had been guaranteed a room with two beds, etc, you know the drill. When we got there they told us the only room they had for us was one with one king-sized bed. Three of us in one bed? Well, okay then. But then they wouldn’t even admit that they’d fudged up the reservations. They gave us our room and told us we’d be switched to a room with two beds in the morning.

 Well, we all three crammed into the one bed, and decided to sleep in (since none of us had slept the night before, and Lauren and I didn’t nap during day one’s festivities like Baby Rich.)

 We awoke at about noon to a cold, rainy day in New Jersey. Naturally. All that rainy weather we’d been promised finally caught up with us.

 Oh, and when we were switched to our new room, we observed that it was a handicapped room with a broken showerhead and a broken window that wouldn’t shut properly. No joke. This hotel was trying to kill us, methinks.

 So we made a mental note to call corporate and headed off to our first destination – 7-Eleven. What??? Let me tell you why. For $8.50 (the price of one cup of beer, or basically a HALF serving of chicken strips and French fries at Bamboozle) we were able to purchase two cups of hot “latte” beverages, a bottle of water, and two hot dogs so obscenely large, it was like I was performing a sexual act every time I took a bite.

 I’d say that’s a little more bang (har har) for your buck, there.

 Since we were no longer afraid of security, we packed an obscene amount of alcohol into our knitted caps, boobs, pockets, and wherever else we could fit them, and I even sent a special twitter message because I am really that giving. We had to park waaaay in the back and trek through rain, uphill, and halfway through our voyage we considered giving up because it was just so far. Instead, we stopped for a photo-op.

 She’s smiling because she has Disaronno tucked into her vajayjay.

 Our second day wasn’t nearly as photographically stimulating as our first day. Mostly, it was because we were out in the cold and rain and didn’t want to mess our stuff up. Also, because nothing interesting was scheduled to happen until the end of the night.

So the first stop we made was an instant beeline for the Babycakes booth again (I am calling this an Intense Fascination and Adoration for Paul Griffiths now), and got another autograph. This time, for our friend Trace. She was sure to let us know the day before that she was not pleased with our decision to get Fawna an autograph, and not her. So we were rectifying. It was at this time that I noted how hungover the poor guy looked. Ever the humanitarian, I squeezed my way into the booth and offered him his choice of alcoholic beverages. We bitched about the price of beer for a while ($8.50 is seriously ridiculous) and he threw out the word ‘pint’ and my inner teenager fluttered a little because in case you had no idea, I have a serious weakness for foreigners. He insisted he was trying to ‘take it easy’ that day, but we all know the only way to make it through the cold and rain is to warm yourself up with liquor. Right? Ahem. So he quite easily accepted some vodka into his life and after a few more words, we parted ways.

 Brb, scribbling his name and some hearts into my notebooks.

 After that we wandered around, caught up with old friends, danced in the rain to Fat Lip by Sum 41 (because that’s obviously what you have to do to that song!) and made a new friend. A guy named Liam – the only Irish Straight Edge (and vegan!) guy I’ve ever met! (Wait, is Andy Irish??) He’s in a band called Honor Bright and was peddling their albums in an effort to make gas money for their upcoming tour. We have soft hearts for starving musicians, so we bought a few copies. Plus, he looked like Breckin Meyer a la Clueless and was willing to pull his shirt and hoodie up (did I mention THE COLD??) to show us his epic chest piece.

 Not entirely sure where the time went after that. All I know is we were drinking, we were watching Rise Against, and then – the loves of my life for like 10 years now – Taking Back Sunday.

 Lauren and I actually parted ways for this because I wanted to get deep into the crowd. I love them that much. And somehow, I ended up crowd-surfing. Several times. I am all of 86 lbs and was tossed around like a beach ball. It was awesome.

 First time I ever crowd-surfed. Perfect band to pop that cherry to.

 Afterward, we picked up some more soda and continued to drink our way to No Doubt’s set. So stellar. Gwen Stefani is amazing, and also, I don’t think she has aged at all. They basically played their entire Greatest Hits album.

 It was at some point while I was spastically jumping around and dancing to Just A Girl that I noticed Quinn from The Used standing directly behind me. Poor guy had been watching me act like an idiot for who knows how long. I felt bad about that for a minute. Then I felt bad about his epic receding hairline. Then I asked for a picture.

 He was pretty nice and talked for a minute, and then we all went about our business admiring No Doubt again. When their set was over, somehow the weekend had felt perfect. Even despite the cold, rain, and obscene prices.

 It was on our way back that I spotted him.

 For those of you who really don’t know anything about me, Adam Lazzara has been the original love of my life for at least a decade. I love Taking Back Sunday. And Him. And I get all starry-eyed and dreamy-faced over him. A few weeks ago, we had a conversation on twitter about our babies (which I’m not going to link to because it is too long for a simple link) and my life was both made and crushed at the same time because I am getting so old (PS I’m gonna be 25 on the 22nd!) that all of the musicians I love are settled down with lives and wives and kids and shit. But I digress.

 I was walking toward the main exit and I saw him walking in the opposite direction with his wife and baby, and a few friends. I didn’t even hesitate to double back, leaving my friends behind (but they are smart enough to follow me when I disappear) and, while still walking, I simply said, “Adam?” You know. Just wanted to make sure it was him.

 And oh my Jesus, it was. So he stopped for me and we started to talk, I took a picture with him, and then I said, “I had a twitter conversation with you a few weeks ago about our babies.” To which his voice jumped up a few octaves like an excited high school girl, and he starts bouncing around, asking “THAT WAS YOU?” He turned around and told his wife, “THIS IS THE GIRL I WAS TELLING YOU ABOUT WITH THE BABY.”

 My life is so backward. He was high school-style spazzing out over me. For real.

 We kept talking for a few before he said he had to go before he caused a scene (ps, too late) and I apologized about a million times for stopping him since by that point he was crowded by people, and we waved and I was off to the exit again.

 My life = complete.

 Then something even better (better than Adam Lazzara? What??) happened.

 On our way to the exit, some speakers were blasting Livin’ On A Prayer by Bon Jovi. And while we all made our way into the parking lot, the most amazing, harmonious sing-a-long ever occurred. Everyone sang. In tune.

 It was somehow the perfect way to end the weekend.

 Thank you, Bamboozle. For the second year in a row the weather has been crappy, but the event has been totally worth it.

 Plus, I met Adam Lazzara and fell in love with a Brit Boy. Who could ask for anything more?

 Let’s do this again some time, Jersey. Perhaps next year.