To recap: It was raining in Hilo and we threw caution to the wind and went to Honolulu for a Pearl Jam show, met awesome people and were friggin' handed 18th row tickets, and I'm still not convinced I'm not dead.

The crowd around us was pretty sparse for Kings of Leon, acting as opener for this leg. I will admit I ducked out halfway through for a pee, my apologies to the Australians. Also, I apologize for referring to them as "Fountains of Leon" for most of the evening.

The crowd filled in between the sets and we were surrounded by fans on all sides, sort of. To Adam's right was a guy who was pissed off that his "seriously low Ten Club number" got him "bitchslapped to the the 18th row." His mood darkened when I cheerfully informed him we'd bought tickets that morning.

(So I left out the part about Vanessa's Greatest Pearl Jam Karma Ever. Whoops.)

In front of me was a woman who sighed she'd married into Pearl Jam fandom, but unlike certain people, didn't bother trying to develop a taste for the band. "I like that one song," she said vaguely. Later, during more political lyrics, her husband would clamp his hands over her ears. It became obvious she was very, er, red. She pouted for most of the show, stretching out her left and and looking at her wedding bands. I think her husband was going to be punished for the rest of their vacation.

(Seriously, if you do have tendencies to the right, what are you doing at such a liberal show, y'know?)

The crowd was awesome. The set list was awesome. Adam was awesome. I am unable to use any word other than "awesome." But it was all there. The punch throwing? The signing? The intricate finger-number choreography? It was there.

And I sang myself horse. Every song. I know I say I don't sing in public, but I couldn't help it. The words were pulled from my chest. Mary rising up above it all, indeed.

This isn't supposed to be a recap of the set list, or a movement-for-movement recap of the concert ("And then we sang 'Happy Birthday' to Matt Cameron, and then Eddie threw cake into the crowd"). If you want that, check out the forums at pearljam.com. Download the bootleg when it goes up.

This is just a record for me, so I remember how it went. How, after the show, we started talking to Jerry and Donna from Seattle and their friend Lisa from Calgary. How we ran into Jack and Justin, and Justin showed off his new Jeff Ament armband and an Eddie Vedder guitar pick. This is for me to remember how overwhelmed I felt by the kindness of Jack who dipped into his wallet and pulled out a Mike McCreedy pick from the Las Vegas show. This is for me to remember how we went out for a quick drink with Jerry, Donna and Lisa, how we made plans to meet up with Jack later in the week, how I'm praying Vanessa calls me to meet up for the U2 show, because we lost track of her in the mass of people leaving.

This is for me to remember how we climbed into the party van at two this morning and slept on and off in the arena's parking garage until 4 a.m., how we slept in the airport after that. How all of this has taken on a dreamlike quality and how I can't believe we turned into the kind of people who take stupid risks and go see shows with heedless abandon.

This is for me and for you. It's possible I'm dead. I'm still not convinced.

I haven't uploaded my photos yet, but you can see the beginnings of Adam's at his Flickr.

I'm sleep-deprived, my hair's dirty, I'm wearing the slightly-too-small concert t-shirt, the first t-shirt I ever bought at a concert, and you can go ahead and cancel Christmas, because it's already come here.

I love you guys.

(Damn, it's like I'm drunk on life.)

Labels: awesomeness, hawaii, pearl jam