It's my week of staying home. I did yoga and had dinner with my friend Gabe, who was contemplating whether or not to go see the local band, RAM, at the Hotel Oloffson (of Graham Greene's The Comedians fame). After much hemming and hawing, he finally decided to go home.
I was happily Skyping with Stacey, already under the covers, when I got a call from my temporary housemate, Emmett, that ARCADE FIRE was at that very moment playing in the lobby of the Oloffson. Gabe neglected to mention that they were going to play since he had never heard the Grammy Award winning band before (and people say I live under a rock?).
I threw on a pair of jeans under my pyjamas and met Emmett downstairs. We dashed across town with dodgy directions and found the hotel in time to catch Arcade Fire's last three songs. I was about three meters from the band, but of course couldn't see a thing. The music was soaring and wonderful and I felt like a little kid who woke up on inauspicious day in June to be told it was Christmas!
The band wandered around after their set, blending in pretty well with the hodge-podge of sweaty expats wandering around in a happy, beery daze.
I was happily Skyping with Stacey, already under the covers, when I got a call from my temporary housemate, Emmett, that ARCADE FIRE was at that very moment playing in the lobby of the Oloffson. Gabe neglected to mention that they were going to play since he had never heard the Grammy Award winning band before (and people say I live under a rock?).
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| Oloffson lobby. Just add Arcade Fire. |
The band wandered around after their set, blending in pretty well with the hodge-podge of sweaty expats wandering around in a happy, beery daze.
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