I hope John C. Reilly washes his hands
Ian called me up at the last minute with tickets to go see Tom Waits recently. Since he hadn't come to town in something like seven years, I agreed to the obscene ticket price and we were off.
Standing in the will-call line for an hour or so. The girl in front of us worked for the Reader, and had just finished a profile of Mr. Waits. She was able to confirm the rumor that a box set of unreleased stuff was going to make an appearance this October.
I thought I saw Horatio Sanz from SNL walking by, and pointed him out to Ian, who thought I should've said hello. Since the only things I might've said were: "Why can't you get through a sketch without laughing?" or "Why aren't you funny?" I opted to remain quiet.
Later, inside, I got a better look at the guy, standing with some friends near the stairs. I was in the middle of telling Ian "Oh, it is the fat guy from SNL," when I noticed he was looking at me, so I kinda hope he can't read lips.
The show started. Last time I saw Tom Waits I was quickly mesmerized, and stayed that way until he was done. This time it faded during the first batch of songs, and I was a little distracted before he even wheeled out the piano. The guitarist was playing über-slick blues riffs, like he had just stopped by from Eric Clapton soundalike school, and it was sort of distracting.
After a couple of hours, I decided to risk going out for a cigarette. They had "No Re-entry" signs on every available surface, but when I got to the Atrium, there were about 30 security and off-duty service staff hanging around, doing nothing but chatting with each other. I figured one of them would agree to let me back in, but every single one of them said no, so I wandered around the closed bar for a couple of minutes.
I spotted actor John C. Reilly (Chicago, Boogie Nights, every other movie made in the last five years or so, etc.) coming up the stairs. I told him I didn't want to hassle him, but wanted to say that I was a fan and I shook his hand before moving off down the stairs myself. That's when I realized he was coming out of the men's room when I happened upon him.
After washing my hands, I went out for a smoke and waited outside until the show ended about 20 minutes later. Met a girl who had spent $800 for her and her friend to be able to attend, which made me feel an awful lot better about spending $84 each for our seats.
6 comments:
Found this on John C. Reilly's blog, posted 08/10/06
"...enjoyed Tom Waits' performance at the Chicago Auditorium Theatre very much last night. Saw my good friend Horatio Sans there - he's an INCERDIBLE talent. My only disappointment with the entire evening was with the facilities. As much as I didn't want to miss one note of Tom's incredible blues set, nature called. Upon sitting down I noticed there was no bathroom tissue in my stall. I asked the gentlemen occupying the adjacent throne if there was any he could spare. After a giggle and a snorting, "No, man. I'm using ALL of it in HERE, dude," I realized that Horatio was not going to be able to help me. I resigned myself to my fate - whatever I use to clean myself here, will need to be washed thoroughly. After dropping my deuce I rushed to the sink to scrub my pudgy, stinky digits. To my shock and horror there was no soap, no hot water and no paper towels. I stormed out of the restroom only to be met by the apparent washroom attendant. I assume he was the attendant because he seemed a little twitchy - probably uncormfortable about the poor condition in which he had left his workplace. He was nice enough to tell me he was a fan, so I felt no reason to dress him down. I thanked him, shook his hand, and as we passed eachother I quickly turned wiped my hands on the tail of his shirt. I sure hope he washes his laundry..."
Dude, you're FAMOUS!
Dirk,
Now that I know the whole story, is it weird that I'm mostly mad that he didn't tip?
I love that you went to the trouble of finding out when the concert was, because otherwise people might not believe it's true. Nice.
Also that Horatio Sanz couldn't even get through your post without laughing.
You guys, you crazy guys.
I like Mahtue.
It was the early 90's...a dark, cold November morning. He lived the apartment below me.
And, he knew a lot about fuses.
That day, the cold air called to me like an impending jury duty notice. I felt weak, tired and I was without the electric.
Mahthue and I had our first encounter that morning. My world changed that day. Sitting there in my dark apartment with heavy clouds dancing above my head, Mathue called on my door to check my condition. Surprised by the care of another, I promptly put down the gay porn I had been indulging in and answered the door.
There he was.
Yes. He fixed the fuse that had gone awry.
Later that month, we became friends. Every Sunday, he would knock on my door with the fresh morning paper and we would sit around and chat about things that smell funny over ginseng tea. One day he brought over a dead animal as a gift. Quite surprised, I said "why?" and he said "because you don't have one".
Then, it all made sense to me.
More, later...
- albert
?!?
the funniest comment you made to me about the tom waits ticket
price was that you decided not to go to lollapalooza because you
figured you were going to be paying $40 (or so) per band that you wanted to see and that the money to music ration therefore wasn't worth it. then you find yourself at the waits show paying twice that for 1 artist.
Post a Comment