Death Cab for Karma

Okay with the Friday night being really strange.

When I say "I'm lucky that…" a friend of mine always assures me, "it has nothing to do with luck."

So a year ago I found this Massachusetts driver's license on the sidewalk next to where my car was parked. I picked it up with the intention of mailing it to the girl who lost it. However, it somehow got lost in the bowels of my car and I forgot about it. When it resurfaced again, it was months later and I figured she'd gotten a new one so I didn't bother to return it.

Suki was under 21 when I found the license, but we celebrated her 21st birthday for her. Every once in a while, someone would get in my car and ask me whose license it was and I'd say, "Oh that's Suki." Like it was quite natural to have a 20 year-old Asian chick's driver's license in your car.

Anyway.

Friday night was the Death Cab for Cutie show at the Middle East. We all know I've been pissing my pants in anticipation for this show. We got to the Mid E at 7:00 so we could have some falafel before waiting in line for an hour. I was stressing that parking on a Friday night in Central Sq. was going to be a bitch. But the golden angel of parking (or as Ruby calls him, "Chauncey") opened up a spot for us directly in front of the club. I always call the good spots "rock star parking" but this truly was.

So we sat down for dinner. Midway through my extra-tahini treat, I felt a sharp scratch on the roof of my mouth. I stopped chewing. My eyes grew wide and my lips were sealed and my friend stopped talking and just looked at me. "Stop! Don't swallow!"

"I swallowed."

I opened my mouth and removed my tongue ring -- the half that didn't go down my throat. I stressed over this for a few minutes. "Well, it's only moving in one direction," he assured me.

I guess I was more concerned that it was a $60 piece of jewelry I had just ingested with my pita.

We finished our dinner and got in the line outside that was snaking around the restaurant and all the way down the street. I didn't have a coat because I hate standing in line for the coat check. I forgot we'd be standing there for a long time.

After every exchange of conversation, I remembered that I was currently digesting a sizable piece of stainless steel. "I'm cold. I can't believe I swallowed."

There were kids standing in front of us who had driven from Rhode Island for the show. When the bouncers started coming down the line checking ID, the small Asian chick in front of us told him that she lost her license and all she had was a student ID. The show was 18-plus. He wouldn't let her in. He harassed her for a full three minutes about all the ways she could have gotten a replace ment ID in the four days since her wallet was stolen. She was practically in tears. She said she drove all the way from Providence for the show and he told her that was only an hour away -- he turned down three people who drove up from New Jersey. I know what a bitch they are about the door there -- I once got turned away from a show that was 18-plus for not having an ID, and I'm 27.

So the girl gets out of line and starts walking away with tears in her eyes. And I grabbed her arm. "Come to my car. I have an ID."

"But I don't look anything like you," she cried. Small Asian chick? You don't see the resemblance?

"It's for a small Asian chick."

So we go to my car and suddenly Ann becomes Suki, who is now over 21. She scoots to the front of the line, avoiding the bouncer who originally denied her access -- and passes winningly through the second gauntlet at the door.

Meanwhile, the guy who works at the Mid E has seen me going to my car and tells me they're going to tow it at 10:00, when that space becomes a cab stand. I just imagine what it would have been like to come out of the show elated at 1:00 in the morning to find dear Verna back at Pat's Towing, where she has frequented enough recently to get her own parking space there.

I can't believe I swallowed.

So if it hadn't been for Suki, Ann wouldn't have seen Death Cab. And if it hadn't been for Ann, my car would have been towed. And if it hadn't been for Death Cab, I wouldn't have danced and smiled so much Friday night.

The show was good. It was really weird, but good. It was weird to see them performing the songs I knew so well. I mean, I listened to We Have the Facts… twice a day all last winter, and to see them performing the songs live was just strange. They didn't sound the same.

They are one sloppy assembly, too. I've seen high school bands more put together. I couldn't get over it. For all the playing together and touring and album recording, you'd think they'd have their shit together. But there was guitars everywhere, and Ben sometimes at the mic and sometimes not and knocking it over, and the drummer not paying attention, and broken strings and long intervals between each song where they took five minutes to tune.

One entertaining part was during a long stretch when they were tuning, and Ben asked, "Does anyone have any questions?" Someone yelled out, "What's the J.A.M.C.?" This question was so purely obsessive fan. "We looked like Giants," one of the songs on their new album that came out two weeks ago, has a line: "Do you remember the J.A.M.C. and reading aloud from magazines?" So Ben said, in his best English professor impersonation, "Good question. Can anybody answer it?" And a lone voice from the back answered "The Jesus and Mary Chain!"

They played the Cure's "Lovesong" during the encore which was silly, but probably their tightest song, which is sad, if you think about it. Not that I expect bands to be all perfect during a show, but I guess I felt a little let down at the sloppiness of the performance.

Still, it was a treat to secure a spot up front after standing in line in the cold to hear a shoddy rendition of "A Movie Script Ending."

I still can't believe I swallowed.