Stephen Mejias

At the show, there were—no kidding(!)—five people who came over and complimented me on this here blog. I was flattered. One was Josh Gladstone who said he was surprised to learn that he was the first to buy Todd’s At Work CD. And, patting his pant pocket, he added: “I’ve already got it in my iPod.” Another was Mike C., of Hoboken Rock City, who keeps a blog of his own and frequently sends out fun podcasts.

It was a pleasure to play with such talented and exciting bands—All Rattle & Dust and Overlord. “This is one show that I’m really happy to be a part of,” said our often phlegmatic singer, Jim Teacher.
“Yeah, me too,” I agreed.

Still, no matter how much I enjoy other bands, I cannot wait to take the stage. I’m almost always impatient before a show, feeling—when I’m on the floor—I’m on the wrong side of history.

It was around 11pm when we finally went on. Not too bad at all.

It’s really remarkable, and just pretty damn great, to be able to hear the crowd screaming above the noise on stage. And, when a song gets to those final few seconds of reverb and distortion, and that screaming just becomes louder, and the people out on the floor are calling out, “One more!” and “Two more!” and “Don’t ever stop!,” well, that just makes a band feel on top of the world. Thank you, friends.

We jumped off the stage at a little before midnight with sweat and smiles and kisses and handshakes. But, unfortunately, I was already thinking about the long train ride back to Bay Ridge. “The cats must be hungry,” I thought.

A cab ride from Maxwell’s back to the Hoboken PATH station was followed by a quick trip to 14th Street and 6th Avenue. From there, it was a cold breeze to Union Square, where I caught the N to 59th, and, finally, the R to 86th. Luckily, I fell into a bit of “good train kharma;” all of my trains were there waiting for me (almost kinda sorta), and I was back in Bay Ridge by 2am. Ugh. I don’t remember much of the ride itself. The spaces in between each stop were long blinks and strange faces. I was happy to leave the subway and enter the chilly air for the two-block walk to Wes’.

86th Street in Bay Ridge is not unlike Newark Avenue in Jersey City at that time of night—aside from some distant footsteps, it’s dead quiet, loosely littered, and anxious for daylight.

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Tris took the picture of me and the Flying-V. I have no idea what I'm doing there. It kinda looks like I'm doing some sort of Joe Satriani finger-tapping trick, but that makes no sense at all because I don't even know how to do that stuff.