Last night I drove 3 hours to a concert in a desert border town.
I affectionately named our trip 3:10 to Yuma but we left 2 minutes late so it became 3:12 to Yuma from thenceforth on out. It may have helped if I had told anyone about the 3:10 plan to begin with. I made them all listen to me read the wikipedia plot summary of the movie instead and put up with all my leaning and reaching to take this train photo:
The point is, I had to see me some Jimmy.
These boys are my boys. There is no other way of putting that. My first concert ever was a Jimmy Eat World show (with the Format opening) when I was 15 at a small pub that was a 2-hour drive away. You could say they (and reckless concert-going) got in my blood at that point. So standing in this crowded little tavern with the band 5 feet away from me, all of us drenched in a humid cloud of sweat ...I know that might not sound appealing to everyone, but it warmed my nostalgic little heart in a big way and made me feel entirely young again. And of course, the music never disappoints.
Jimmy Eat World, you're a scholar and a gentleman.
Also, kudos to this girl for having only met me once at the last AZ Blogger Meetup and being totally game for an impulsive road trip with me and my friends who she didn't know. That's a good kind of person right there. (Also, the May AZ Blogger Meetup is TONIGHT. All I'm saying is, if you come, you could end up on a spontaneous road trip with me someday. BONUS.)
p.s. The movie 3:10 to Yuma was, apparently, named because of the time a train departs. While driving to Yuma last night, I not only a) saw multiple trains, but b) glanced down at the Google map instructions in my lap to realize the trip was predicted to take exactly 3 hours and 10 minutes. Also, c) Christian Bale was in that movie's remake. I feel like my Zen is particularly balanced today.