You pay too much money for tickets, even without the fees. You pay a little too much for parking. You pay a little too much for drinks at the venue. You stand in front of a stage and you get jostled a little too much, shoved a little too much, pushed a little too much. The music is a little too loud. You're gonna stay out a little too late, and morning will come a little too soon.
And you do it because when they play, they open a tap in your brain and release a flood of happy memories: how she came bounding back to you through the crowd to dance during Green and Dumb. How you sang "Mexico" in Mexico. How "Nada" saved your life in Los Angeles. How Charlie told you the band who played that Jean Luc Picard song was doing a concert, and you went and they played for four amazing hours. How you watched the pregnant hippie dance at the Sedona show. Justin, Charlie, Ted, Erin, Autumn, Shannon, Jake, Taylor. So many friends, and so many shows, and so many good songs and you know every single word.
And it's worth every single 'little too' to open that tap, to remember every good time while you're having a new good time, to hold up your bottle (and if your bottle's empty, help yourself to mine) and say: "Here's to life."
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