So, I really owe you all a post about how awesome my Paul McCartney Experience was. Because it was so awesome, witness must be paid to said awesomeness. Yes, it was that awesome. (Think I've used "awesome" enough times so far?) But to be honest, between continual temping and trying (and failing) to get my next book review filmed, I haven't had a lot of time to sit and collect thoughts on much of anything. I've had about two or three fairly good ideas spinning around my head, but I haven't even been able to squeeze more than two or three sentences about each one. But tonight I'm making myself do this, because I really want to be fairly emo about today, but I want to focus on good things first. The whining will come later.

So...

I have wanted to see Paul McCartney ever since I was a little kid. I actually share my birthday with him, and I remember being young and my dad playing "Birthday" for me on my birthday. It's become my secondary birthday song. (I'd much rather have that sung to me than the ubiquitous "Happy Birthday," since it would potentially negate any awkwardness and embarrassment that comes with being sung to in public. I really hate it when people sing "Happy Birthday" to me. But I digress.) Dad got to see PM in Sacramento back in 2005, but he was touring the East Coast before I left for LU, and I was all the way over in Virginia by the time he got to the West Coast. Then I heard rumors he was giving up touring, and I wrote off that I'd probably never get to see him live.

But then he announced a 2010 tour. Then, while I was up at my grandparents, he announced a date in San Francisco, and thanks to all the temping I did up there, I could afford to go!

So July 10 came, and we all - Dad, my sisters and I, and a couple of people from our church - piled in cars and drove to San Leandro, where we would pick up the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit, a sort of commuter train - remember this, it'll come up later. Ooh foreshadowing!) and go the rest of the way into SF (this was cheaper, as we wouldn't have to pay bridge tolls or ridiculous stadium parking). We arrived, walked to the park, had dinner, and got ready for the show to start.

This video gives you a good idea of our view, although we were along the third base line and so had a more angled view of the stage:

I only know a fraction of the Beatles/PM songs my dad and sisters know, so there were a few portions of the show where I just sat and enjoyed being there, and when he sang "Sing the Changes" he just had to have the video screen play bubbles forming into and out of Obama's face. I know PM's a hardcore leftie, but I don't attend concerts to have an artist's political views thrown in my face. If I were that strident, I wouldn't have gone to the concert in the first place. Apart from that, and a niggling worry about dinner settling in my stomach well, I had an amazing time.

Naturally, PM finishes the show with some of his greatest, most-well-loved hits. This one took the cake (and we still had two encores to go through!):



This is actually a pretty good idea of the view from our seats, although we were in the upper deck, so we were about 20 or more feet higher than this. Seeing as "Hey Jude" is also on this video, it was really weird to think that I was singing along with 50,000ish people, and we were all singing along with Sir Paul Freakin' McCartney, who was right there in the flesh, playing his psychedelic piano.

Finally, the concert came to an end, and we all took our sweet time getting back to the BART station, about a 30 minute walk. We stopped to use the bathroom, stopped to buy souvenirs, stopped to take pictures of the Bay Bridge all surrounded by mist and fog, and generally didn't hurry. But we were shocked to realize that the last BART train for San Leandro left at 12:17 am. It was 12:45ish. Yeah, we missed the train by at least a half hour. (To be fair, Dad planned our travel, and he was worried about making it to SF on time. He didn't even look at the last departure time.)

Shocked and stunned, and with no clue what to do, we all walked up to the street and decided to try and find a taxi, since it was either that or get a hotel for 8 people for the night. The taxi was definitely the cheaper option. Except the taxi van driver wanted to charge us $100 dollars for the 8 of us to travel in his van. It would only be $80 if some stayed at the hotel where we called the taxi service. So the four of us and Annette - the driver of the other car - headed to San Leandro, where Annette would then drive back to SF and get the rest of the group. (It was a real shame that we weren't in the cash cab, because then Dad and I could have scored us serious money.) Then, of course, Shannon needed a bathroom as soon as we get in the car, and it takes us an hour to find something open at 2 am. We finally got home at 3 am, and Annette's car got home at 3:45 am.

Allow me to remind you of the last time I went to a concert. I have bad luck with concerts apparently. Which is why I'm a little nervous about going to see the Newsboys (yes, again - this will be #4) in October in Calistoga. Shannon and I are going and spending the night at Grandma's. This could get interesting.