The trip to points farther west on I-70 was filled with laughter and introductory conversations with the people who kindly offered me a ride and a bed.  In any fandom there are some who become the wacky characters.  In this fandom there are also some of the most selfless and kind people I have met.  I spent over 8 hours in a van with 5 of them.

My disappointment that the street team meet and greets were dispersed by magical sorting hat instead of the usual all call was dispersed by the fact that, when all was said and done, three of the six of us had been offered the privilege....and were taking the other three with them.

There is no way for me to say what follows without sounding nuts to those who don’t get it.  But I am okay with that.  I just wanted a chance to say goodbye.  Having spent hours at concerts in 5 states within a few weeks time, I would have felt odd not saying goodbye appropriately.  There is never a guarantee of a post-show signing, so my concerns were entirely eased by my travel mate.  (Thanks again!)

We hit the hotel and headed toward to venue to stake out some food.  Might I suggest the Beer Kitchen in KC?  The sweet potato fries are life-altering.  I hear the burgers rock, too.  After eating, we returned to the venue for some friendly line chit chat, walks down memory lane, etc.  This venue won bonus points quickly just based on the fact that they had signs clearly marking where meet and greeters were to line up.  That favor was continued once we entered and affirmed that this time we could, indeed, take drinks onto the dance floor (*looks meaningfully at St. Louis*).

Goodbyes were said.  Hugs were exchanged.  A promise was made.  A picture was taken.  So began the night I couldn’t have scripted better.

The local openers were Not a Planet.  Check them out.  Yes, we have had EXCELLENT local groups throughout this tour.  The drummer’s facial expressions are half the show, but the lead singer is (I believe I said) “less than two years from being as good an eye-f***er as Jackson Rathbone.”  And the music is good.  Don’t forget that part.  I was impressed and had a blast.

I got some hella-hot pictures of Jake Miller this time.  The Kissing Club set seemed a little subdued, though still quality.  This could have something to do with the excessive amount of talking that dominated the crowd all night.  I hit my happy place and kinda zone out while the bands are playing, and even I had to take a minute to think, “REALLY, people???” from time to time.  And then I returned to the zone and danced to “Water in the Pipes.”

If there are fans of the Bleeding Horse Express’s Adam reading this, you also want to take a gander at the pictures.  I got one really good one of Bradley, but it ain’t NOTHIN’ compared to one of my Adam pics.  I actually managed shots of everyone this time, but Tissa was pretty hidden behind the mic stand.  As I told her after STL, they have joined the very small stack of CDs that stay in my car so I always have them on the road.  I would travel to see them kinda like I have traveled to see TTC.  Solid.

Allow me a TV time-out to say that the people beside and to my left and in front of us rocked my world.  They were friendly and talkative at appropriate times (mostly...maybe not so much the one offering a band member use of her uterus.....but whatev).  Again, 100 Monkeys has some pretty outstanding humans in their fan base.  We talked about service projects and promotions and it was just good stuff.

The 100 Monkeys set list could not have been more perfect if I had written it.  I shot to cloud nine as soon as they started.  Back before Indy, I set the goal that I would get to hear “Devil Man” live.  As soon as they finished the acoustic VIP set in STL without playing it, I gave that hope up.  And there I was in KC...and they opened with it...and then magically morphed it into “Kolpix.”  Are you KIDDING?  How AMAZING!  I bounced a lot and giggled a lot and had an absolute blast.  In the zone.  Totally namaste-ing it up at the end as it had been at the start.  Perfection.

Some have spoken of the show as lacking closure because they didn’t play “Thank You.”  I don’t know.  I got all the closure I needed.  We returned to the Beer Kitchen (via a slight 10-minute “tour of the area” that returned us to the same parking spot) for more food and some drinks.  One of my travelmates pointed at the beer cocktail board and we all laughed.  They offer up a concoction called a Black Diamond.  Clearly there needed to be some of those at the table.  It was deliicious!  Guiness...frambois...blackberry puree and a dusting of Mexican cacao over the berry/beer froth.  SO yummy.

My last night in the Zoo ended with one more glance toward Clifford as people were still waiting for the band.  I smiled.

I smiled because summer 2011 was filled head to toe with a band I love.  It started with another month of serious promoting and ended with a celebration that the Zoo deserved.  I love those men to death.  And the me I become in light of their energy.  Divine.

Until October...Namaste.

I thoroughly enjoyed my only VIP experience on the tour.  The short, intimate acoustic set was fun and I was ridiculously excited to see the truck stop guitar.  I love 1st time Monkeys concertgoers, and the St. Louis show was framed with them.  The young woman in front of me in the picture line was nervous even after her picture.  Seeing that level of excitement is a good reminder.  I am certainly not jaded, but I no longer am nervous about saying hi.  I don’t want to return to the day when I couldn’t form a coherent thought in the presence of THE BEN JOHNSON, but it is fun to watch the giddiness.

The show was an ABSOLUTE blast.  I hadn’t been that close in a LONG while.  Right behind me was a young lady celebrating her 12th birthday.  Her friend had surprised her with the concert.  She had wanted to be where she could see before the band came out. Another concertgoer and I kinda worked her in front of us when the guys came out.  I think it was too much for her. She is a huge Jackson fan and I think he was just a little overwhelming for her.  She and her friend rocked out behind us, shrieking gleefully on a couple occasions and restoring faith youth. Dear parents: Those were two outstanding young ladies. Thank you for doing an awesome job!

The set list was a little old school, and I was in heaven.  I told Jerad after the show that the set list was awesome and was greeted with, “It was?  Why?”  I laughed and told him that I think I just liked hearing some stuff I hadn’t in a while.  “Grocery Store/No More” stands out as a song from the Wayback Machine that made the night more special.

Before my evening closed with that conversation, the evening of the young ladies behind me ended.  I was lucky to be just on the other side of the window when the birthday girl stepped up to the table to meet the band. It was beautiful. She was polite and well-spoken to each member, but she couldn’t take her eyes off Jackson. She was illuminated. Her whole countenance was a smile.  I couldn’t help but watch and giggle.

Through it all, that 12 year-old is what it is all about.  Pure joy. Jubilation.  Bliss.  As my time in the Liquid Zoo began to wind down, I was happy that it seemed to be ending on that note.  A note of celebration.  And the end was just starting.

Yeah.....I was in town for a few days, but I didn't make the Monkey Road Trip like I had the last time.  I started out at Universal (I had never been before) and finished at Epcot (waves at Gary...the ONLY British MALE working that day.  Sorry, K.).  We ate HUGE chicken nachos and shopped for a second string concert shirt for me (Macy's had left the inkpak on.  Oops!) and ran into one of my students at World of Disney.  And we road coasters and toured a hydroponic greenhouse.

And I drank butterbeer.  Actually WE drank butterbeer.  I would have turned into a cane of hydroponic sugar had I drank it all.  It was amazing. The whole Wizarding World part of Universal kinda geeked me out.  I wanted a wand, but the line was riddikulus (hahahaha).

The concert is a bit of a blur for numerous reasons.  Mostly because I, again, allowed myself just to have fun rather than be your long-distance reporter.  I am thrilled to have brought you the first picture of Graupner in a tutu...and I promise there are MANY more below...AND some pics of his source for said costume choice.  I was kinda fixated on the tutu.  I did get to tell Johnson how much I had loved his shirt shirt in Nashville.  And I met some new fans.  And then there was....well....some stories are best lived and never typed.

It was at Disney, people.  100 Monkeys played at DISNEY!!!  How could this have been anything BUT a whirlwind of pixie dust and fun?

Oh...and butterbeer.....mmmmmmmmm

In addition to being geographically dumb, the Nashville show was also unbearably hot and the venue opened the doors over an hour late.

And then there was the chick.

I don't normally call people out on my site.  In fact, I have simply not posted rather than actually share my real experiences before.  But there is a moral to this story.

I am kinda glad she brought it to me.  Because I was EXACTLY the wrong person to bring it to.  AND I have never hit anyone.  That worked to her benefit, as well.

You see, after about 1 song of the 100 Monkeys set, she leans into me and begins to rant.  How she is embarrassed.  How she has lived in Nashville and gone to SOOO many concerts and has never seen people not dancing.  How embarrassed she is of us.  How "I get that he's JASPER and everything, but THIS isn't about THAT.  It's about the MUSIC" and how "I just can't understand YOU people."

Ironic side note:  I HAD taken a few pictures at that point.  0 of Jackson.

So.....I brought it back to her.

"You see," I said, "this is my 19th show with them.  I run a fairly well-respected fan site for the band. I drove in today from Indianapolis and I am driving that 4.5 hours back tomorrow to hop a flight to Orlando for show 20.  Yes.  There are some...maybe many...who walked in tonight because of Jackson's OTHER day job.  In fact, I bet you found them that same way.  But give them a few minutes.  You can't be in this room for long without it becoming about the music.  And you don't have to tell ME that."

What I didn't point out was that the vast majority of people who had cameras out around me were either other fan sites or first-timers.  I didn't point this out, and she hadn't bothered to invest the time to chat with those around her to figure out what she was jumping in to.

This fandom is pretty awesome.  You see, I spent that CRAZY Nashville night in a hotel room offered up to me by Twitter followers I had never met JUST because they saw that I was looking for somewhere to crash.  Is there some crazy?  Of course.  Is there some drama?  I guess yes, but I have gotten REALLY good at remaining clueless.  Are there some strangers who will not be strangers after a few minutes?  Definitely.  Are there some of the most selfless and kind people I have ever met.  For sure.

I have always believed that we get to choose a lot of our own experiences in life.  Reactions are choices.  We get to choose our relationships.  What we choose to invest in is up to us.

This fandom is us.  It is what we make of it.  What will it be for you?

Then I went to grad school and met Jim Edmondson.  Jim is an actor and director with the Oregon Shakespeare Festival, and he may be the wisest person I have ever met.  I found myself taking pages and pages of notes only to realize later that they were more bits of life wisdom rather than content I would need for class.

Jim greeted us with “namaste”...and an explanation from his perspective as well as history.  Meanings vary by culture and can be as simple as “good afternoon.”  Etymologically speaking, the tone of the roots is more subtle and textured than the dictionary meaning of “I bow to you.”  As Jim explained, there is a spiritual flavor to it.

“The divine in me salutes the divine in you.”

It was yesterday when I, exhausted from the concert and the efforts leading up to it, realized that the reason I was SO tired went beyond the dictionary definition of “I handed out some fliers and went to a concert,” as well.  It is because anyone who was there Wednesday night can tell you that calling a 100 Monkeys show a concert is like equating “namaste” with “wazzup.”

Wednesday at the Egyptian room was a musical namaste.  It was the very best of 100 Monkeys and the very best of me and that synergy being repeated exponentially for the hundreds.  “Concert” is too easy.  It was joy and energy and pure bliss.  It was divine.

As the tour continues, I encourage each of you who will attend to allow the very best you to be the one walking through the door.  Respect the band.  Respect the crew.  Respect the others in attendance.  Respect yourself.  It’s communion, not competition.  The most fabulous part of a live performance of any kind is that everyone present plays a role and adds something to the event, for better or worse.

Imagine the possibilities of a roomful of “namaste” mindsets...