Continued...

Day 2, Part 1

The next day, we set off to our hotel, and downtown Orlando where the Florida Music Festival was to take place. After stumbling back and forth looking for exits which no longer existed, we finally made it to the Central Parking Garage, where Josh?s car would spend the night. After finding no available spaces on the first two floors, we decided that while we were up this far, we might as well just drive all the way up to the 7th floor, and parked on the corner of the rooftop. We spent a few minutes walking to each edge of the garage, admiring the cityscape and pondering whether we could realistically jump, crawl, and climb our way to other buildings from various floors. We stopped for a moment to shout random comments at passersby below before heading down ourselves.

We walked across the street to the Wall Street Plaza, where the concert would take place, and searched for a place to eat dinner. Someone recommended The Globe to us, and we sat down to eat as the festival security enclosed our plaza with metal gates. We weren?t planning on leaving anyway, so we didn?t bother buying the wristbands for admission.

As the first bands performed their half-hour sets on alternating stages, we approached the main stage. Adam stared in disbelief and remarked how Third Eye Blind would be right here in just a few short hours. The few others that were gathering to listen left a large gap of about fifteen feet between themselves and the stage, as if they were afraid of approaching too closely. We moved right up to the stage front, dead-center, and shortly after had concert-goers by our sides, their fears of the stage seemingly abolished.

This is the part of the story where we start telling people where we?re from. Telling people you drove 600 miles to see the band can make you a lot of fast concert-friends. Making a giant sign about driving 600 miles for the band can make you even more. As more people arrived, we gained more concert buddies, including a number of people I had only briefly encountered online on the website where I had discovered the concert. The two women who had been waiting for us to move so they could get up front relinquished the idea, and even offered to save our spots after learning how far we had come. The fellow band-addict Thomas who had driven here from Alabama, sporting a large Third Eye Blind tattoo on his upper arm. Megan from Orlando who randomly heard one of her favorite bands was still alive and coming to her hometown.

The crowd grew restless. Third Eye Blind was coming...

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That's the name of the game Calling all freaks

The Crystal Method, "Name Of The Game"