10 years ago I was not the Ben Gibbard fanatic that I am now so I never got to see The Postal Service before Monday night. Since I have no concrete plans to catch them anywhere else I treated this as my one and only shot. I showed up around noon to secure my usual spot up front. I suspect I'm getting too old to spend seven hours queued up outside a venue in inclement weather, but if that's what it takes to get on the rail, I will continue to act like a teenager. Yes. Because it's The fucking Postal Service. If that's not worth waiting for hours and hours in freaking Pomona in the rain and wind and cold, I don't know what the hell is.
My feet were cramping and I had a migraine long before the band came onstage at nine o'clock. But for those 75 or so minutes that Ben, Jimmy and Jenny played I didn't even notice. I could not stop smiling. I could not stop myself from mouthing the words to every fucking song. And seriously, who knew Ben could be so engaging and charismatic without a guitar? I didn't think I could possibly adore him any more, but the Gibbard always finds a way.
Now I have to wait and see what other dates come up because one show is never enough.