Time of Your Life

Sorry to once again postpone the not-so-gory details of my vacation in the tropics, but I had one hell of a night last night.

Lynn and I went to see American Idiot on Broadway. We may have had the very best seats in the house—4^th row, dead center. It was a spellbinding mind fuck. Maybe the fact that it’s one of my favorite albums ever had something to do with the chills that are still trilling up my spine, but to see it staged, acted, and sung by such a talented and thrilling cast 10 feet from my eyes absolutely put it over the top for me. I’m still trembling from the bolts of energy zapped into my soul just by making eye contact with so many members of the cast throughout the show.

I wish I could boil down all of the high points right now, but it’s still too fresh in my mind.

Maybe it was the accumulation of the flowing themes of self preservation, self destruction, self sacrifice, and self redemption. That kind of shit hits me deep in the gut.

Maybe it was just that it totally rocked.

Maybe it was just before the last curtain call when the theater was one in joyous ovation and I waved the cast toward us as if to ask for one more song. They saw me! What a fucking rush!

When the curtains reopened, the entire cast were holding guitars and the star who plays Jesus of Suburbia gave me a knowing wink before he started strumming the first few bars of “Good Riddance (Time of Your Life”), an older and wildly popular Green Day ballad. The rest of the cast joined in, making for one of the most apropos curtain calls of all time. People were screaming, weeping, jumping, and hugging when the curtain fell for the last time.

It was windy and unseasonably chilly in Manhattan once we left the theater for dinner and drinks. But we walked the seven blocks to the restaurant through the Times Square throng of humanity on a warm high that I’ve never had and doubt ever will experience again. It was that cool.