An overdue homage to The Get Up Kids!

Something to Write Home About was the record that defined my teen angst. It spoke to me. Matt Pryor had somehow extracted all of my feelings, all of my ideas, and managed to transform them into sweet serenades that accompanied break-ups, triumphs and catastrophes. So when Joe bought me tickets to see The Get Up Kids at the Paradise on March 6th for Christmas, I was beyond excited.

And then, two weeks before the show, I broke my stupid leg. Joe called the venue and was told that they would be able to make accommodations for the wheelchair and we were really pumped we would be able to see the show. I assumed they would have a little area towards the back or the side of the room, roped off, so I wouldn't be in the way. I couldn't have been more wrong.

We got to Allston and found parking relatively close by. Joe wheeled me in and we were escorted behind the crowd all the way to the other side of the room. I assumed we were heading towards the back, as I had originally thought, but instead we started working our way up towards the front.  

Our escort brought us directly to the stage, next to stage left. The crowd was behind a barricade, which we were in front of, and about 6 inches to my right were the stairs to get onto the stage. Joe was given a VIP sticker and there we were. I was pretty much in shock. I had no idea we would be actually closer than the "front" row. 

The opening band was fun but nothing prepared me for the awe-struck, crazy fan euphoria that would hit me when The Get Up Kids came on stage. They played an amazing mix of old, newer and newest songs off all their records. They still had the same charisma and charm that they had when I was 16. Le sigh.

After their amazing set (I swear I'm not biased), Matt Pryor walked off stage and handed me his set list. Like, actually handed it directly to me. I probably looked like an idiot - sitting there in a wheel-chair, mouth agape and practically drooling. I think I said thank you? I hope I said thank you.

I have since framed that set-list and will never forget the night I spent only a few feet away from those guys. I suppose this broken leg is good for something, because that was definitely a red letter day.