On Thursday May 6, my wife and I decided to take in a concert. We like going to live shows but, since moving to this remote area of Nebraska, we haven't been able to afford the time. But this wasn't a show I wanted to miss.The band playing was Flogging Molly, the venue, the Fillmore Auditorium in Denver, Colo.
We arrived at our friend's house in Commerce City (a suburb of Denver) at about 7 p.m. We had a few miles to go still so we said a quick hello and good bye to his family before the three of us swept away down the street.
My friend, having lived in Denver for a few years now, was confident that he knew how to get to the Fillmore. He was right, sort of. He said the auditorium was located at the corner of Colfax and Fillmore, "You can't miss it," he said.
We missed it. At least I thought we did. So I circled around the block and tried to find it again. Still missed it. Convinced now that my friend was lost I asked my wife to quickly use here Blackberry to do a web search on the Fillmore to get their phone number. Unlike the stereotype, I am not afraid of asking for directions, especially if it means I wont miss one of my favorite bands.
When she pulled out her ticket to get the proper spelling of the venue she exclaimed that the show started at 6 p.m., not 8 p.m. as I had thought. I couldn't believe it. How could I have misread the ticket? Especially since I had obtained a photo pass and would only have three songs to shoot. Time was of the utmost importance here. My heart sank.
"Call the venue," I said, "see if we have missed them." My wife placed the call. She got the address (we were only a few blocks away) and found out that there were two opening bands and the first one had just wrapped up.