Who: Squad Five-O • The Juliana Theory
This story is dedicated to Lauren, who holds the key to the knowledge of all things Jewish and queer, though she's white and flaming heterosexual.
By now, we know Mike the Volunteer Team Leader quite well if we've read A Day in the Life, don't we? If so, let's get to know him a bit more, shall we? (If not, he's a guy who works with me at COSI, a science museum, and we've been out a few times in a purely platonic fashion.) See, a couple of weeks ago, Mike and I were standing about, discussing upcoming concerts that we should attend. I mentioned my Guster show, so he mentioned his Juliana Theory show in Cleveland and casually told me that he would be glad to have me come along if I was interested. Truthfully, I had merely heard the name of the band and hadn't even listened to the tape that Mike had given to me at the Pedro the Lion show, and Mike knew that, but well, I figured that going to Cleveland with him wouldn't hurt anything, so after several hundred e-mails, one of which contained a slam on my use of the comma, Mike came to pick me up at 3:30 this afternoon. I couldn't decide if we would be alone or if he would bring his girlfriend along for good measure. I stood at the bottom of the steps leading to the parking lot where we were to meet and looked around for Mike's red Neon, and I was doing such, he called my name from across the lot as he was emptying some trash from his car. As Mike led me back to his car, I saw two things - 1) he actually drives a blue Neon, and 2) we were totally alone. Mike and his girlfriend just do not make sense to me. Her name is Miriam, which is an obvious turn-off to begin with. However, Miriam is a really nice person, and I say that because I don't know what else to say about her. She's not really exceptionally attractive or remotely funny or anything outstanding, but you can tell that she's just really good, and I know how much Mike likes that. (Being innocent enough for Katie to corrupt: +1000 points) My roommate Rhonda calls her "The Ditz in Denim", because the girl only ever wears denim skirts, I swear. (Note that my characterisation of this girl has changed since I've gotten to know her. She actually is attractive and amusing and outstandingly intelligent. Darn it. And as for the denim thing, I don't know where that came from . . . )
So, I was wondering where the heck the girl was while I was going to be all alone with her boyfriend for an entire evening, but I decided that bringing her up would probably be detrimental to the situation. So, what do you do when you're in the car with someone for three hours while you drive to a concert? Well, Mike and I did a lot of talking about music. His taste in music actually intimidates me, which I've never experienced before. (Having the ability to intimidate Katie: +3000 points) He listens to all of the same alternative/college rock that I do, but he's also got a wealth of knowledge about Christian and local bands. Intimidating! I get the feeling that most of the girls circling around Mike don't share his taste in music, though, so it seems like we can go on for hours. And we did just that. He introduced me to Squad Five-O, the band that was to open for The Juliana Theory, and showed me exactly how unafraid he is to take random roads that he's never been on while traveling to foreign cities, both of which were turn-ons. (Not being afraid of getting lost: +2000 points) He told me about Squad Five-O's cool show merchandise (which he called "merch", of course), which led to his telling me that he never got into the hooded sweatshirt craze. I was astounded and told him that when I wrote about him in my journal, his whole persona is the hooded sweatshirt. He informed me that it's actually just a hooded coat, not a sweatshirt in any way. My night was ruined, obviously, but we forged ahead to Cleveland. Mike and I stopped at the very same rest stop that Tracey and I had stopped at a mere two weeks earlier during our Spring break, so I told Mike about the crazy midget who sweeps the floor of the stop. (What else is there to do when you're a midget but work at a rest stop?) The thing that amuses me most about Mike is his ability to drink a can of pop in .02 seconds, which he proudly displayed as we pulled out of the parking lot. 100% man, I tell you. We passed the nudie bars and discussed Cleveland culture until boom, there we were.
We found the Grog Shop with little to no difficulty after passing miles of pseudo project housing that was actually too nice to be part of the projects. (Should that be capitalised? I'm not sure.) Mike parked us in a residential area and spent the next 15 minutes hiding everything in his car that could be of remote interest to thieves. We had a bit (read: hours) of time to kill before the Grog Shop opened at eight, so we headed up the street a bit, where we ran into an antique toy store. Mike pointed out all of the G.I. Joe-related paraphernalia that he once owned, and we discussed where to get a bite to eat. (Being okay with reliving his childhood: +1000 points) Just as we were admiring the 400 Mexican food joints that we had to choose from, Mike spotted a wooden playground, so we scooted in that direction, whereupon I scolded him for being a bad role model and climbing up the slide. We got on the swings for a while, my favourite thing to do, naturally. Mike made fun of me for liking the lamest thing on the playground, so he got up and spent 10 minutes trying to get up the strength to hold himself on one of those slidey things on a rope. (Wow, the way in which I use my vocabulary to convey meaning . . .) I took pictures, as I plan to blackmail him for sex someday very, very soon. (That was for you, Rhonda, dear.) After I watched Mike attempt to make a running jump over a fence, we got back on the swings, whereupon his phone fell out of his pocket. This led to a conversation about how that wouldn't happen if he would just break down and carry a purse. He argued that purses have no function, and I told him that mine serves as a holder for my countless lip glosses. He reminded me that he had seen me take some gloss out of my pocket on several occasions, which was actually kind of hot to think about. (Him watching me, not me producing things from my pockets.) So, we finally settled on my being an idiot, because I didn't want to insult his manhood. He then began swinging very high, and after looking over at me, said, "Looks like someone doesn't have a very extensive knowledge of physics." In fact, Mike mentioned his physics knowledge on several occasions. I think it was his way of letting me know that he's intelligent, even though he's not the usual college boy-type that I'm interested in. I showcased my swinging skills and told him that I was swinging just as high as he was, and he said, "It's just that you're so short." This set me off, as I consider myself to be normal female height and have told him several million times not to make fun of me for being a bit (read: a lot) shorter than he is.
We decided that it was time for some grub and headed back toward the Mexican strip. I had never been to the Chipotle Mexican Grill, so Mike considered whether or not we could find something vegetarian for me. (Being okay with Katie's vegetarianism: +2,000,000 points) I ended up getting a burrito with just vegetables, and when I told the woman making it that I didn't want any guacamole, the cashier boy went all psycho on me and told me that I just had to have it. I told him that I'm not a big guac girl because of the colour, and he informed me that I am, in fact, a fool. I explained to him that I just wasn't feeling it at the moment, because I didn't want to lose my burrito on Mike, and he told me that if I ever try it, it has to be at Chipotle, because theirs is better than anyone's. He was all young and seductive, and I felt like the old man in Thomas Mann's Death in Venice, studying him as if he was a piece of artwork but knowing that I just wanted to take him back to my cabana and rip off his blue-striped bathing suit. (No, he wasn't actually wearing a bathing suit.) Mike led me downstairs to eat, and now that I think about it, I wonder if it was just so we could be alone, as there was no one else down there. I don't think men realise how different I am while trying to get them and after getting them. I'm a flirt, a big tease. I seduce them and get them all riled up, and then when they take me out, I give them nothing. I enjoy that about myself. So, Mike and I just sat and ate, him groping his burrito, gobbling and reading articles about bands in the paper to me, me picking at my food with a fork and watching him gobble. The cashier boy came downstairs and wandered around, obviously just down there to see me. I asked him to come live with me and make me burritos in exchange for sex, which made Mike laugh.
We had yet more time to kill before the concert, so we headed into the local CD Warehouse, where Mike and I called out the names of bands to each other across the aisles to see if the other had heard of them. I bought Muse and Eliott Smith, while Mike got himself some Mighty Mighty Bosstones but not before I asked him to buy me the $105 collection of Beatles EPs and The Ramones double disc set. He declined. We walked into the Grog Shop and Mike immediately headed for the restroom after making fun of me for only being 19 and having to pay extra to get in, whereupon an older man circled around me, looking me over, while I prayed for Mike to hurry back and save me. He did, and we moved to another part of the bar for a better view. No sooner than we had chosen the perfect spot did Mike make friends with a guy named Joe, as Mike tends to do wherever he goes. (Not necessarily with guys named Joe, though, mind you.) I had seen Joe from across the bar earlier, and I seriously thought that it was his and his friend's first time ever out in a social setting. Joe was wearing khakis, a navy blue sweater, and a button-down shirt, while his friend was wearing khakis and a navy blue shirt with a matching tie. A tie! I was in love with them from the start. However, as soon as Joe spoke, I realised that he was wearing what he was just to be different and was totally outgoing and fun, though a bit loud and obnoxious. A band whose name had something to do with having some hope left was the opening opening band, and they were actually really good. About halfway through their set, some taller people gathered in front of me, so Mike scooted me in front of him to an empty space. I kind of stopped paying attention to the band at that point, because I could feel Mike breathing into my hair. Imagine the feeling of the breath of a big, strong man on the top of your head. We were packed in so tightly that I could feel him pressed against me every time that he swayed to the music or the crowd pushed him forward. Coupled with the fact that we were glistening beneath the lights of the stage, it was . . . umm . . . nice, to say the least. (Having the ability to make Katie sweat: +400,000,000 points) Too bad I'm not really attracted to him in any way anymore.
Next up was Squad Five-O, and as soon as they hit the stage, Joe and his cronies burst through the crowd from behind and started a pseudo mosh pit. I was totally unimpressed and stood like a stone while the people around me threw themselves on each other. Mike had just been analysing my lack of aggressive behavior toward other concert-goers between sets, so he knew that I would stand there and let myself be killed if he didn't do anything, so just as Joe was about to wreak havoc on my lovely face, Mike pushed the crowd aside and stood in front of me to protect me. (Crushing mean boys like ants: +5000 points) I couldn't really pay attention to the band too much, because I was concentrating on not being beaten, but wow, was Squad Five-O flaming in love with themselves. The lead singer kept talking about how masculine he was in his man-scarf and how buff he's looking since he started working out. He made the audience hold our hands up and whatnot, which I was okay with, but he was also encouraging moshing, which wasn't cool at all. He thanked a kid in the front with a white mohawk for jumping around and singing along, which I thought lovely, until he told the mohawked man to work out and maybe one day he, too, could pull off the man-scarf. Even with all of the mocking and the annoying riling of the crowd, I was all about how passionate the fans of the band were, shaking their fists and acting all angst-y. It made me wish that I knew the words so that I could do a little shaking myself.
After Squad Five-O and all of the thrashing was done, Mike asked me if I planned to stay in the back or move up for a better view, and as I was in no mood to be ferociously attacked by the throngs of The Juliana Theory fans, I chose to hold my place in the back, while Mike waded his way to the front. I wasn't about to be alone during the most important part of the gig, so I set out to find my first victim. I didn't have to go far. His name was Michael (isn't it always?), and he was 100% punk rock. He had on black pants, a black Squad Five-O tee shirt with the sleeves ripped off (hot), and a mound of gel-up spiky, black hair. Katie likes the black hair, you know. So, Michael was standing with another guy, not saying much at all, and since he wasn't talking, I couldn't really find a way to burst in on their conversation, so I just stood and contemplated. He asked me the time, and as gave it to him, I couldn't, for the life of me, think of anything witty or amusing to add to that to make him want to keep talking. Instead, I noticed a Granddaddy poster behind him as I relayed the hour, so I kind gave him a nudge on the back, mostly just to be able to touch him, but we'll leave that little factoid out. So, after Michael's friend saw me examine the poster, he sort of pointed at it, said "Graaaaaandaddy" in a weird old man voice, and cackled at himself. I was unimpressed. I said to Michael, "You haven't heard of Grandaddy." He hadn't and asked who they're comparable to, but I couldn't think of a single band, so I just told him that they're weird. He asked, "Weird like Beck?", which was a turn-on, obviously. I shook my head and leaned back to contemplate. I turned to him a few minutes later and said, "Have you heard of Creeper Lagoon?" (Now, I realise that I'm the only one who's reminded of Creeper when I hear Grandaddy, so shoot me for it, if you must.) Michael hadn't heard of them, either, so I simply said, "Well, they remind me of Grandaddy . . . not that that helps you in any way." He smiled, leaned in, and asked, "What kind of music do they play?" I told him that they're kind of alternative/college rock-y, and he replied, "Oh, I don't listen to any of that stuff." I wondered what the heck he was doing at a Juliana Theory show, so I asked him what kind of music he does listen to, to which he answered, "Punk, 80's rock, hair bands." I told Michael that I loved him.
The Juliana Theory was interesting. It kind of bothered me how fake everything was. Instead of actually playing music, they would start out each song with recorded, synthesised sounds while the lead singer stood with his back to the audience for dramatic effect. It was dramatic, all right, but I'm not sure that a bar audience is looking for dramatic. Nonetheless, once the band actually began the songs, they were amazing. They opened with Into the Dark, my personal favourite from the new album, and I recall Music Box Superhero being a crowd favourite for obvious reasons, but I couldn't tell you a thing about the rest of the set. I did notice that Mike was actually doing a bit of moving around, though, whereas he usually leans against something and looks lost in whoever we're seeing. Must have been the grog. The singer stopped at one point, and with a faux-serious voice said, "I'm only going to say this once," and then went into a speech about not jumping around and crowd-surfing, because people were getting massively scarred up in front. I say "faux-serious", because when he started into it, I thought he was just joking, but as he threatened to walk, I realised that he truly was just being plain nasty. I lost a ton of respect for the band, but a song later, he stopped again, apologised, and said, "It's just that I love you all so much, and I don't want you getting hurt." Okay, fine.
After watching Michael blow off several hundred flirting girls, further proving the fact that every man I'm attracted to is gay (Hey, does that make me a lesbian?), the concert was over and Mike made his way back to me from the front, where he had been bashed over the head repeatedly. We walked by Michael after Mike bought himself a tee shirt, and when I told Mike later about meeting Michael, he told me that he had noticed Michael, as well. Thoughts of a massive orgy consumed me immediately. Okay, so three isn't massive. I was consumed, all right!? Consumed!
The ride home was beautiful. I love riding in other people's cars at night. Those are the times when I love Chicago Mike the most - when we're riding back from getting a movie or going to Jonathan's house and I look over at him and can't really quite make him out completely and we just talk and listen and understand. Well, I had the same thing going on with COSI Mike. (Are all of the Mikes getting confusing, or is it just me?) We put in my Muse CD, and I sank into his car seat to absorb him. It had been really warm at home, so I was wearing little-to-no clothing (for me), and the temperature in Mike's car made me wanna slap my momma (in a bad way). So, after we stopped at a gas station and stocked up on giant cookies and frozen Mountain Dew, I grabbed his black hooded non-sweatshirt, sank back again, and went to sleep for most of the way home. I'm amazed that Mike makes me so comfortable already that I can sleep in front of him, something I'll do only in front of a select group of men. I woke up for the last ten minutes or so of the ride, but I was thinking rather incoherently, so I let Mike take me the long way to my dorm as I attempted to make my mouth form the shapes of letters. When we parked, he told me to stay put and hopped out of the car. I wanted him to come around to my side and float me up to my room (as floating seemed like a logical thing to do at 4 A.M.), where he would lay me in bed, take off my shoes, and float away into the night; all this without waking my roommate. In reality, he went back to the trunk and grabbed some Juliana Theory concert posters for me, as if it was such a spontaneous thought, as if he hadn't been planning it all of the way home. I didn't really know how to thank him without offering him my left leg or a chunk o' belly button lint, so I just gave him a hug. I later found out that Mike has never been touched by human hands, so apparently, my hugging him was a big deal. Okay, maybe not.
Where: Grog Shop • Cleveland, Ohio
When: April 4th, 2001