Milestones

It’s funny how these things go. This is post number 20 of this blog. I’m not sure if I ever planned it to go this far or if I was expecting it to die way before now. I have this urge to read Transmetropolitan again, to get back into the “angry columnist” mode and start complaining about how things are utterly wrong. But I don’t feel like having a point. More like just ramble whatever comes to mind as usual.

Mm. Events.

I just received my ticket for LABYRINTH // LASERPOINT // WHITEOUT, which is the first techno/dance event (I don’t really know what else to call it? It’s too big a thing to be called a rave, right?) I’ve been to in years. In fact, I haven’t been a person who would go to such events in quite a few lifetimes. Yet, I’m apparently going again.

Dubai rekindled my love for the music, and talking with some British friends who were psyched to see Proteus perform live (whom I remember seeing from what, 10 years back) made me realize how much I’ve missed the scene in Finland. So, come April, it’s time to suit up in all white, go pouncing on the dance floor. Still need to buy a few additions to make my outfit the way way I want, but awesome parties require some awesome purchases.

With everything I’m doing and everywhere I’m going, I’m slowly feeling like I’m reincarnating the me from a summer a couple of years ago – I was really doing things, going to places. Working my ass off to get enough money to do what I wanted to do. Participating in things that felt fun. I must admit that it’s probably writing this blog has gotten me closer to that again. I’m spending time thinking of places to go to and people to see. At first it was so I would have something to write about. Now, I’m again remembering how much fun it was. Doing things.

And doing things results in things I can look back on.

It’s summer of 2007. I think.

We’re heading to Provinssirock with a group of friends. The plan is to see Tori Amos live, and her gig is starting something like 21:00, sharp. I’m driving through Helsinki, straight from work where I’ve had to spend overtime on some project and now the schedule to get to Seinäjoki is falling apart around me.

We have a last minute addition to our group that I still need to pick up. Also because my godson is coming along with his parents, I’ll need to drop him and his mum to the family summer cottage before we can continue to the gig, with the father tagging along for the show. And we will need to take a detour through Tampere to pick up Mi&Mi who are coming too. The traffic is a killer and the raging storm above is making any increase of speed a bad idea even if it wasn’t.

We manage to pick up the last member of our crew, and the weather seems to be getting worse by the minute. As the car slowly creeps past the First Ring Road I’m actually commenting out loud how we should have brought bicycles, not a car. I can feel the time slipping away. In case you didn’t realize yet, I’m in a bad mood. Frankly just moments away from stepping out of the car and walking home.

I already know we’re going to miss the show, but decide not to tell the others, just put on my game face and tell everyone we’ll do just fine.

Someone puts Vesa-Matti Loiri on the CD-player. I don’t like the guy. No, I don’t have a valid reason for my dislike, I just don’t. Hearing his voice puts me this close to calling it a day. As we approach the Third Ring Road and I feel something switch in the flow of the cars. Movement. Freedom. The old blue is going forward. I slide beneath the Ring Road and when we reach the other side, it’s like a whole different world.

The storm front is torn open in front of us, pillars of sunlight streaking across the open road like searchlights in the night. A familiar cover of a Finnish hit starts to play starts to play and somehow a glimmer of hope wriggles back into my heart. Could be that we make it, after all. Or if we don’t, might be a pleasant ride after all.

We pick up Mi&Mi from Tampere, the sun shines, time flows.

The drive to Provinssi is long, and the road narrow. We drop off my godson and his mother at the summer cottage. It’s drawing awfully close to the start of the gig. And at the cottage, I can start calculating the remaining time with certainty.

The facts are these: I might be able to drop the car-full of people near the entrance, but then I’ll have to find a parking space. And that won’t happen easy since it’s so late. I find my mind going through possible scenarios. None of them end in everyone in the car seeing the full Tori Amos show, at least without me getting my car towed.

I decide that I can live missing a part of the gig, and I know that some people in the car can’t. We arrive at Seinäjoki. I turn towards the festival area, stop the car near the entrance. It’s quarter to nine.

“Get out, I’ll follow you as soon as I get the car parked. Don’t worry. I’ll be fine. See you soon.”

They disappear from my view. I look at the line of cars moving towards the designated parking area. My friends are happy. I can live with this. Not happy, but I’ll survive.

Two blocks later, I realize I’ve made the wrong turn and ended up on a dead-end back street. A dead-end back street with one free parking spot.

I jog to the gate. No idea how many minutes I have left, I don’t have time to check. The stage she’s performing at seems to be at the other side of the festival area.

I consider picking up the pace, but can’t be bothered – I’m already running late, might as well walk.

I see the tent. I don’t hear music.

The glimmer of hope I felt goes away. I had looked at the festival map wrong once again. Not the first time that happened.

Some people are coming out, I smile at them and sigh.

I step through the tent door.

First step in. A drumbeat.

Second step in. Second drumbeat.

I walk into the crowd.

And the crowd goes wild.