Day 278: Going All the Way

On Day 278, Magical Mystery Tour traveled to Charlotte, North Carolina, where we met up more friends, including my brother, Jeff and sister-in-law, Katie. This was the first Phish concert I'd ever atteneded with Katie and her second time ever seeing the band. She proved, again, that she can have fun wherever she goes. Hanging out with her at a Phish concert was something that I'd never done before.

But it wasn't the thing I've never done before.

That thing, that most glorious idea came after the concert, when we decided to introduce Laney, currently a southern California girl, to one of the greatest things the south has to offer: Waffle House.

For those of you who don't know what Waffle House is, I consider that a shame, and I'm sorry. It's a popular restaurant chain found on nearly every interstate exit in the south; Waffle House restaurants are open 24 hours a day and they serve up an array of greasy breakfast foods: eggs, bacon, grits, sausage, and of course, waffles.

One of the novelties of Waffle House is their hash browns, which they offer a variety of different ways:

Smothered (with grilled onions), Covered (with melted cheese), Chunked (with diced ham), Diced (with grilled tomatoes), Peppered (with jalapeno peppers), Capped (with button mushrooms), and/or Topped (with Bert's chili).

I'm usually a smothered, covered, and diced kind of gal, but on Day 278, as the thing I've never done before, I ordered my Waffle House hash browns, "All the way."

Believe it or not, eating hash browns was on the list of things I wanted to do in my 29th year. I think I've always wanted to order something, "All the way." It just sounds cool. Like going up to a bartender and saying, while nodding, "Just the usual."

Only I never said, "All the way."

When the waitress came to take our order, I told her that I wanted a bacon, egg and cheese sandwich and then reading off the menu, said triumphantly, "And I'd like my hashbrowns scattered, smothered, covered, chunked, diced, peppered, capped and topped."

"All the way?," she asked, almost annoyed that I decided to recite all of the words. I didn't care.

"Yes," I said, smiling, "Scattered, smothered, covered, chopped, capped, diced, peppered, capped and topped."

The waitress nodded and walked away. She put our order in and we waited. We talked about the show, and I may or may not have played "Special Lady," an original Waffle House song on the juke box.

When I saw our waitress carrying our plates of completely unhealthy, completely delicious fried food, I was excited. The hash browns were grilled to perfection and even with all of the extra ingredients, I couldn't wait to dive in. That is, until she turned towards a vat of chili, dipped a stainless steel ladle inside and poured a heaping scoopful of it all over my perfect hash browns. My stomach turned.

She put the plate in front of me and I stared at it for a little while. The chili was daunting, and I knew that once I moved past the generous helping, I still had diced tomatoes, grilled onions, mushroom caps, chunks of ham, jalapeno peppers, and cheese to eat. I think I got heartburn just looking at it.

I took a bite, slowly, hoping that if I tried, maybe I could taste each individual ingredient. I quickly realized that this was a lost cause, and likely not ever going to happen. So I treated this experiment like my own "Woman vs. Food," and I dove right in.

In all the years I've been enjoying late night fare from Waffle House, I had yet to be let down. I also hadn't ever really strayed from my standard order. But going all the way paid off as far as these hash browns go. They were good. I don't know who Bert is, but he makes tasty chili. It's a good thing, too, because sometimes the chili was all I could taste.

As we were leaving to head back to the hotel, Laney, pleased with her first Waffle House experience, announced to everyone in the car, "Well that was just slightly less than amazing."

Though I think she was talking about her own meal, I'd say that applies to my scattered, smothered, covered, chopped, capped, diced, peppered, capped and topped hash browns too.

Day 277: Phish Explainer

On Day 277 I began what FF had started referring to as the, "Magical Mystery Tour."

Four Phish shows in four days in three different cities.

Day 277's thing I've never done before was to go to Walnut Creek Amphitheatre in Raleigh, North Carolina for Day #1 of the southeast tour.

This was also the first time I'd gone to a Phish concert with someone who had seen the band less times than I had.

Her name was Patty, and she had recently married a Phish fan, so while she had heard their music before, this was her first time ever seeing them live. Her husband, my friend Andrew, has been seeing the band since he was in high school. I'm pretty sure anything she wanted to know about Phish, he had already told her.

Yet my excitement at not being the newbie or the first time ever took over and I decided to take it upon myself to drop as much Phish knowledge on her as I could.

Patty, because she's a nice person, smiled while she listened to what I had to say.

"When they play 'Harry Hood,' everyone launches glowsticks into the air. They call it a glowstick war."

"During 'You Enjoy Myself,' (lead guitarist) Trey and (bassist) Mike will jump all around on mini-trampolines while playing their instruments."

"Some people think of (lighting director) Chris Kuroda as the fifth member of the band because what he adds to the show."

"A lot of my favorite songs that Phish performs come from Trey's senior thesis at Goddard College. The songs are all about this guy Colonel Forbin who has a dog and he finds himself in a mythical place called Gamehendge . . ."

As these things were coming out of my mouth, I realized two things:

First, I had likely succeeded, with my unsolicited remarks, of stripping Patty of her will to live.

Secondly, this band, that I've dedicated a great deal of time and money to seeing for the last seven years, sounds both completely ridiculous and like the most fun band ever. For 6-year olds.

Maybe Phish, like the Internet, and sorority t-shirts with Dave Matthews Band quotes on them, isn't meant to be explained or understood. It's just meant to be fun. I decided I'm better off just enjoying the fellowship, enjoying the music, but flying under the radar as it comes to the this band.

And just like that, I heard, "Free," one of Phish favorite songs. I took it as a sign to free Patty from my insanity and leave it at Walnut Creek Amphitheatre as the thing I've never done before.

Day 276: Premiere Night

My friend Kim is the busiest person that I know.

In the course of one week, I've heard Kim mention casually in conversation (she rarely complains about her busy schedule) about working 12-hour days for her regular job, interviewing musicians for her website Mixtape Atlanta, promoting two concerts at two different venues, directing a music video and auditioning for a movie on her lunch break.

Kim makes me completely unimpressed with other people who claim they have too much on their plate. She makes me especially unimpressed with myself for trying new things and writing about it while maintaining a full-time job. Her schedule exhausts me. She's the hardest working person I know.

So when Kim invited me to the Atlanta premiere of an independent movie that was filmed in Atlanta, The Fat Boy Chronicles, I knew it had to be because she had something to do with it.
When I asked her she confirmed what I already suspected.

"Please come," she said, "This is opening night for the movie I was the music supervisor for."

Part of me had to laugh that once again, Kim was involved in another project outside of her real job and her 16 other side jobs.

"Of course she's the music supervisor for an indie film. Why wouldn't she be?" I thought to myself.

Another part of me was absolutely floored. Completely impressed, but utterly shocked. I couldn't help but think about 27-year old Kim, and say, "What the hell, Kim? You were the music supervisor for a movie? Like a real deal movie? Are you even old enough to do that? How did you even know what to do?"

She played it off, claiming she was distant friends with the director of the film and that's how she got involved in the project. She said the job simply entailed listening to music and working with the director to insert tracks where it seemed like a good fit.

"That's all it is," she said, not nearly as impressed with herself as I was with her.

I wasn't buying her non-chalantless and bought my ticket to the premiere that day.

Day 276's thing I've never done before was go to a movie premiere.

When I arrived to the Plaza Theater on Day 276, a Wednesday, I was not surprised to find dozens of people lined up outside. I milled about the crowd wondering if I would see any local Atlanta celebrities in the crowd. Usher? Tyler Perry? Kim Zolciak from the Real Housewives of Atlanta? None, at least as far as I could see.

I was perplexed as to why the doors to the theater weren't open yet to let people in. It was the dead of summer and it was hot outside. So far, it was not quite the movie premiere I had envisioned in my head.

In fact, one of the things I'd hoped to do during my 29th year was to walk a red carpet at a movie premiere or at some such event. The way I'd pictured it, I'd be dressed to kill and there would be hundreds of paparazzi snapping pictures of me. It occurred to me when I entered the Plaza Theater, that the purple carpet in the lobby might be the closest that I would ever come. And Kim's business partner, Jessica, who was taking pictures as people arrived, would suffice as the paparazzo.

While everyone made there way inside to their seats, I hung out close to Jessica, who was busy at work and likely annoyed that I'd made myself her assistant. She was the only other person that I knew (besides Kim and she was nowhere to be found) and the purple carpet was clearly where all of the action was happening, so I had no desire to leave.

I watched as audience members, production staff members and a group of teenagers dressed for the prom made their way through the door. Clearly this was a big night for them, and they hugged and squealed at each other and at nearly everyone who approached them, saying, "Congratulations." I deducted that some of these kids, maybe all of them, must be the actors in the film. Jessica confirmed that they were.

Finally, I saw Kim who was dressed up and looking snazzy. She also looked busy. She was holding a clipboard and was surrounded by people asking her questions. Periodically she would yell instructions to the crowd about wristbands, and then she would get bum rushed by eager audience members.

I soon realized that I should've brought a date to this event. Will I ever learn? Kim can't hang out, because in addition to supervising the music selections in the film, she's also running the film's premiere.

I told you, Kim is the busiest woman in Atlanta show business.

Luckily, just as I had resolved to sitting by myself in the film, I ran into another work friend, Adrienne. She walked the purple carpet with me, we had our picture taken, and then we took a couple of the last seats in the theater, on the very front row.

Before the film got started, there were opening remarks made by the director of the film. He gave a thank you speech fit for an awards show. I checked out his remarks and retrieved my suitcase under my seat to ensure my cell phone was on silent. I was shuffling in my seat and looking down at my lap when I heard a familiar voice speaking.

The voice threw me because besides Kim, Jessica, and Adrienne, I was 100 percent confident that I didn't know anyone else that had anything to do with this film.

But I'd recognize this voice anywhere. It was my friend Trish's dad!

I was beyond confused as to what his connection to the film was, but after asking Trish and doing some further research, I discovered that the writer of the book, "The Fat Boy Chronicles," from which the film is based, was written by a coach at Trish's high school. The book, and the movie, are based on a true story.

Trish's dad Roger was presenting the author of the book, and the director of the film, with a letter from Governor Sonny Perdue, congratulating them on the film's completion and future success.

I looked up and smiled at him. He caught my eye and stopped talking when he realized it was me in the front row. He was just as surprised as I was to see me there.

"I'm sorry," he said, apologizing to the crowd, "I just saw my daughter's friend from college sitting in the front row. I'd recognize that smile anywhere."

My cheeks burned with embarrassment and Adrienne looked at me like I was a freak.

"That's my friend Trish's dad. So random," I said.

Roger finished his presentation, my face turned back to its regular color, and then they got started with showing the film.

The coolest thing about viewing a film with the people responsible for making it, is that everyone in the theater was rooting for the movie to do well. So even if it had sucked, and this one didn't suck, the film would never have a more forgiving audience.

With every name that appeared in the opening credits came thunderous applause from that person's friends and family. The director, the lead actors, the producers, writers, all receiving hoops and hollers inside the theater. Adrienne and I were at the ready for Kim's name, and when it finally appeared, we joined everyone's excitement, clapping and shouting for our friend. I loved it.

Each time a new song was presented, the theater would erupt in applause again for the band that Kim had chosen. I tried to imagine the film without music, and I couldn't. Then I tried to imagine any other film without music and the thought depressed me. The soundtrack is crucial, and Kim was responsible for it. And though I don't know much about making films or supervising a musical score, I'd say she nailed it. I was beyond impressed. And so proud of her.

In general, I am not a fan of any film having to do with teenage angst, so The Fat Boy Chronicles is not, on paper, really my cup of tea. But it is an important film that about a relevant topic dominating the news headlines. Teenage bullying is real. And it's painful. And unfortunately, as we've seen lately, can be deadly. The actors, and the story they tell, make me believe it.

Plus, rubbing elbows with some of Atlanta's filmmakers and actors whose names I'm sure I haven’t heard the last of didn't hurt either. I think I could get used to attending movie premieres and walking the red, purple or whatever carpet is there.

Oh, and Kim Burdges, the Musical Supervisor. I know her. She's my friend. And she rules.