Franz Ferdinand

I am in New York City doing an internship, if you're wondering where I went. Yesterday something funny happened to me, so naturally I will write about it in the blog.

After work ended at about 5 o' clock I decided that I wanted to go swimming. Walking around in NYC in a button-down shirt in 90 degree weather made me feel disgusting, like I'd just been covered in Gak (you know, Gak from Nickelodeon?). I got on the subway after one of the workers here at the office told me how to get to a public pool. Well, when I got there it wasn't open, and I was a bit dissapointed, but I was determined to have a good time. I noticed a HUGE line at Virgin Mega Store, so I wandered over to see what pathetic pop act they had come to see.

Imagine my surprise when I discovered that the crowd had gathered to see none other than "Franz Ferdinand" the hot new band out of Glasgow, that had won me over with their delightful eponymous debut. I couldn't believe it at first, so I asked the guard, "Franz Ferdinand is really playing here??" . "Yes. But you have to buy their cd and go wait in that line." Well I'd already downloaded their cd, and the line was about a few kilometers long, so forget that! I noticed that the stage would be easily visible, and hopefully audible, from the DVD section of the store which did not require a ticket to get into. Pretending to be interested in purchasing the "Friends: Season Finale DVD" (a difficult acting job indeed) I staked out a spot and prepared for some awesomeness.

Let me just say now that I hate Virgin Megastore more than any other store in the world. I hate it more than Best Buy, Bed Bath and Beyond, and Bob's Big ol' Boat Barn. Combined! The jerks at Virgin decided that only people that had bought the CD and waited in line deserved to see the show, so they wandered around the DVD section yelling "IF YOU ARE NOT SHOPPING FOR DVD'S, YOU NEED TO LEAVE THE DVD SECTION". Also, they turned up the background music playing in this part of the store (Jessica Simpson) so that the show would be inaudible. Their methods closely resembled those of an effective anti-terrorism unit. I decided that I would rather hear the band than see them so I left the DVD section and was quickly herded to the second floor by a group of very large security guards.

On the second floor I could hear the show perfectly, but not see the band. Noone was dancing downstairs anyways, but I really wanted to see the band play. I decided it might help my chances if I tried to strike up a friendship with one of the securtiy guards.

"So why won't you jerks let us watch the show?" I asked.

"Fire Hazard," he replied like a robot from "I, Robot".

"So what you're telling me is that there are 500 people down there, crammed into a fairly small space, and as of now they are perfectly safe?"

"Yeah, there's two fire exits."

"And also, you claim that if the rest of us, all 50 of us, go down there, that creates an immediate and deadly fire hazard?"

"Yep."

So, what I did for the rest of the show, I just stared at the guy. I could tell this made him very uncomfortable.

Well the music was good, as expected, and after the show Franz was sticking around for some autographs. Excitedly, naively, I ran outside to join the autograph line.

"You got a ticket?" some jerk asked.

Well, that was it, I had just about had it with all of this. I walked over to where the band would be sitting, and noticed a window that looked directly in on the band. I quickly thought of a plan for my revenge, pulled out a piece of paper and marker from my back pack, and wrote a message for the band:

"I illegally downloaded your album!"

I don't exactly know what I was trying to accomplish with this, but I knocked real loud on the glass, held up the paper to the window, and they looked over. The lead singer laughed and so did the bass player, but it looked like a real angry laugh. I had then imagined that they would pull me inside sign an autograph, and become my friend. But, pretty much, they just turned around and started signing autographs for the jerks with tickets again.

That night, Franz was on Conan, and I decided to watch. As they played, I imagined myself their best friend, waiting backstage to exchange high-fives. Then I opened my eyes and remembered that I was sitting alone in a small one-bedroom apartment in NYC. As despair set in, though, I noticed the paper from earlier that I had posted on my wall as a trophy for my accomplishments, and, again, all was good with the world.