So, I love my sister more than anything. If there's a way in my power to make her happy, I pretty much try and do that ... no matter how ridiculous. As you will find.
Setting: Believers Never Die, Part Deux tour
Protagonists: Liz and Katie Curry, Gabe Saporta
Antagonists: yellow caution tape, burly security guard
Kate and I agree that Mr. Saporta is kind of the jam, but as she had recently turned me onto the Cobra happiness, she was a little more of a fan than me at that point in time. Her goal for the night was a picture with G.A.B.E., which I totally supported but was not at all confident would happen.
The show in its entirety was amazing despite the fact that we were probably two of ten people there over the age of fifteen. We were right near the side of the stage and had managed to grab a couple of vacant seats several rows below where our tickets said we should be sitting, in the most legitimate sense. Anyway, we were rocking out to our FOB boys in the last set of the night and I took a break from flailing around to the awesome to idly people-watch for a few seconds. A few rows up from us and right across the aisle sat Mr. Saporta, taking in the show.
I grabbed my sister. Pointed. We freaked out for several minutes amidst crowd noise and strobe lights and all the while I was trying to brainstorm how I could get over there and get Kate the one thing she wanted but never thought would actually happen. Et voila ... my solution for nearly everything: alcohol.
"I'm gonna buy him a shot," I told her, "and ask him if he'll take a picture with you! Quick, what does he drink?"
"Agh!" she said. "I don't know! Tequila?"
"Well, I'll get a shot of tequila and a shot of whiskey and there's no way he can say no to both!" (By this point in time, boys and girls, I'd imbibed a mixed drink and a huge-ass beer myself so I was feeling a little more adventurous than I might have otherwise.) I grabbed the last of my cash and hauled ass up those freaking stairs, praying to whomever watches over Cobra Starship fans that he wouldn't decide to go backstage like a normal rock star before I got back.
So, I snatched up the shots -- seven dollars each, and for the record, Gabe, you are worth it and way more -- and headed back down the stairs and he was still there. I looked over at the tape and sort of motioned to him and at first he shook his head at me 'til I proferred alcohol in his direction. A-ha ... then I got a smile. I stepped over the tape.
"Tequila or whiskey?" I asked him, trying really hard to be audible over FOB but also not to spit in his face. (Which I may have done anyway, and in that case -- sorry, man.)
"Tequila!" he said. Score one for Katie!
"Take a picture with my sister?" I asked and he grinned at me.
"Sure!" he said. Score two for Katie!
Then, yes, I did a shot with Gabe Saporta, which is probably one of the cooler things I've ever initiated. And there was Kate, standing with her camera, ready to go, Mr. Saporta smilin' at her and then ... our goddamned antagonist. Mr. Burly Security Guard, who I tried to argue with for about thirty seconds before I realized it was fruitless and gave up with a shrug.
So -- the ultimate sister moment became the penultimate sister moment. We kicked back, enjoyed the rest of the show, and exited the venue disappointed but nonetheless exhilarated by our Gabe Saporta encounter (and the fact that soon after that, we were both pretty much smushed up against Pete Wentz's crotch -- also rad.)
Anyway, we've got these tickets to see Cobra Starship again in August. I'm putting it out there right now that if we're even in close proximity to Mr. Saporta again, I'm buying three shots of tequila this time and we're all gonna get to have a moment.
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