Last hurrah before fatherhood

Some weeks before my wife was to give birth to our lovely daughter Lila, a good friend and I had planned to see a band whose latest album was a real favorite of ours. The band was TV on the Radio and the album was Return to Cookie Mountain, which I believe is a nod to Super Mario Brothers.

Seeing the show was not only an opportunity to see the band perform songs from an album which I listened to religiously at least once a day for months, but with fatherhood quickly approaching, I thought the night would have more significance than a simple rock show. I had the sense that life post-dad was going to be very different. I would be different. Life would be different. All music would be dad-rock.

That is all very far from reality, expectant fathers out there. But I was rather possessed that night. Tequila was my friend and I wanted to share shots with the world. My buddy and I got separated and I was standing near someone who said that they were just back from Iraq and I couldn't help but want to celebrate his return. Shots for everybody. I was PG for a night (Patron Guy).

Fast forward to the end of the show, and I was in that bad place.. you know where it would be easier to be dead than living? My buddy and I both had to just sit with our heads dangling into our chests for half an hour or so and safely near the bathroom. Eventually we made our way to the car and one of us said to the other, "Hey, let's talk for awhile, or uh, take a nap."

More than an hour later, we woke up, sobered up and made our way home. I've tried explaining the story to my understanding wife many times, but it really is too sad to believe. I was also sad that I missed most of a show I was really looking forward to. But I did exorcise the lame thoughts from my mind.