On November 14, 2008 a family of six made a screeching hault in a little town called Minneapolis.
I am apart of this family.
I starred out my hotel window, down upon a theatre its marque exclaiming "The Australian Pink Floyd Show". I could barely contain my excitment, my eyes darted wildly at the surrounding streets; perchance i would catch a glimpse of the band, as unlikely as it sounds. My father beckoned me away from the window. I reluctantly backed away, letting my eyes linger for a moment on the dimming skyline. I sat down on my springy bed and glanced at my watch.
6:45 PM. Only fifteen more minutes and I would make my way towards the marque.
I frittered away the last few minutes by flipping through the cable channels. Just when I could barely contain my exploding anticipation much longer my father exclaimed "It's time to go."
I basically ran to the theatre, taking no notice of the people around me; who has time to worry about people and cars at a time like this? Than I made it to my destination. I turned quickly to locate my family a dozen yards behind me. "Come on!" I nearly screamed. "It's time for the show!!!"
To my dislike I still waited. I wandered the lobby after I obtained my shirt (a red T showcaseing the school teacher and the wonderful pink charactor) untill the ushers finally opened the door to the waiting stage. I flashed the ticketers my ticket and dragged my sister to our seats. Both of us, now only a mere thirty minutes away, cryed out every once in a while when one of the animated charactors moved on the large screen behind the various musical instruments and microphones.
"The Wall In All It's Entirety" Stood out from the screen. I read the message time and time again only reving myself up for the show.
The seats quickly filled with the typical crowd: The original fans, critics, pot heads, couples, and the wanderers that had no where else to go. I, placing myself in the 'original fan' category, nearly screamed when the lights dimmed and the band took the stage; oh wait, I did scream.
This was the show I had been waiting for.
I've seen the Aussie Floyd perform before.
I've seen Roger Waters perform before.
But never have I walked away from a concert with no voice before.
The band took the stage and the Wall unfolded before me. The screen portrayed renditions of the film, adding to the show. The theatrics of Ian Cattle still raise goose bumps on my arms. The whole time I didn't even think about the fact that this wasn't the real band because for three hours, they were the band. Pink Floyd didn't exist, but the Aussie Floyd did. No one could have done a better job than these amazing musicians. I sang every lyric but listened to every word that poored out of the bands mouths. When Ian Cattle came out dressed as 'Pink' for 'The Show Must Go On' I nearly had a heart attack. 'Waiting For the Worms' filled the theatre with such energy that nearly everyone climbed out of their seats and chanted 'Hammer'. At that moment everyone was in a movie.
And than it stopped.
'Pink' peeled off his gloves, dropped his glasses, and the trench came off. Everyone was silent. No one sang along. We knew what was coming.
We all sat with 'Pink' on the stand.
'The Trial' pounded through the air as the fans sang along with their particular: the school teacher, the judge, the wife, the mother (mine being the judge). Once again we were all swept into the onslaught of chanting along 'Tear down the Wall!' And when it did.
We cheered. We screamed.
It ended too quickly. Even the encore. I could barely sing along with the last six songs my voice was so shot from cheering. At the end of the show my hands were red and throbbing from clapping so much.
Like I said, I've seen part of the real deal but not even Roger reduced my voice to shreds.
When I walked out of the theatre the same chorus repeated over and over in my ears.
"All you have to do, Is follow the worms"
