Random Acts of Daveness (aka My Day with the Dave Matthews Band–Busch Stadium, St. Louis, June 7, 2008–Part II)

We’ve all heard of “Random Acts of Kindness.” In that vein, I’d like to pose something new–Random Acts of Daveness, which I’ll define as “weird, heartwarming, or bizarre-in-a-good-way things that tend to happen at Dave Matthews Band/Dave Matthews and Tim Reynolds/Dave and Friends shows.” Something about the atmosphere at these shows tends to produce these little moments that usually leave me feeling better about life and humanity somehow.

My first experience with Random Acts of Daveness happened on Randalls Island in 2005. About halfway through the show, the guy standing next to me asked me if this show was my first (which leads me to believe that I was probably singing all the wrong lyrics to the songs. Loudly. I’m not sure what else could have given me away as a relative n00b). After I told him the show was my second, he said, “Here–I want you to have this,” and handed me a CD. I put the CD in my bag and forgot about it until the next afternoon when I retrieved it, popped it into my computer, and prepared for some nasty viruses or pornographic photos to appear and destroy my laptop. To my surprise, the data disk was loaded with eight DMB shows, some from as far back as 1993.

See? That’s what I mean by Random Acts of Daveness.

I experienced several Random Acts of Daveness at the Busch Stadium show on June 7:

1) I showed up early in the afternoon so I could wander around and see what sorts of trouble I could get into. At the back of the stadium, I happened upon a landing overlooking the area where the band’s buses were parked (and would have happily stayed there all afternoon had the temperature not been approximately twelve thousand degrees). Three guys–who looked as though they were maybe high school-age–walked up and the four of us spent about five minutes waving at the buses and yelling for someone to come out, and then we laughed at ourselves, assuming that the band members were probably sitting inside behind the tinted windows laughing at us for making complete jackasses of ourselves. And then one of the guys looked at me, I looked at him, and we both just started jumping up and down and clapping like a couple of three year olds while yelling about how excited we were for the show. And then they left. Totally random.

2) I decided that this year, I wanted to share my DMB experience with someone in my life who really “gets it.”

Therefore, I ended up going by myself.

Oddly enough, although I’ve read plenty accounts on DMB boards about people attending shows alone, everyone from the front-desk guy at the hotel to the people sitting around me at the show thought I was some kind of awesome for going to the show alone. And, thus–ironically–I ended up not alone. I made friends with the girls behind me (more on that below), so I had people to compare notes with about what songs we were hoping to hear, and people to cheer with when those songs were played. I was able to laugh with the woman next to me when we saw a guy in the section behind us holding up a “Stick Me Carter” sign (Carter Beauford has quite a set of arms but there’s no way he’s launching a drumstick that far). I’m convinced that had I in fact passed out (a fate that I mentioned in my previous post about this show), the people around me would have helped me out, as opposed to dancing on me and spilling beer on my face.

3)  As mentioned above, I made friends with the two college girls sitting behind me who were attending their second show, so I had someone to whoop and holler with when the band played “Crush” and “Grey Street” for me and played a “#40″(tease) for them (although they were hoping less for a tease and more for the whole thing). These young women, in turn, made friends with the guys behind them, which created a sort of extended “everybody look out for everybody else” network. To whit: Between The Black Crowes set and the start of the main event, the girls took off to get beer and left the event poster they had purchased on the ground in front of their seats. I didn’t notice this until one of the guys tapped me on the shoulder and said, “Hey–the girls forgot to take their poster with them. We’ve been keeping an eye on it, but we’re gonna go get beer. Can you keep an eye on it until someone gets back?” I agreed, and when the girls got back, they were both horrified that they’d just walked off and left their poster on the ground unattended. So I explained that the guys had been watching it and then handed the solemn responsibility off to me when they left. One of the girls smiled at me and said “That’s what I love about Dave Matthews Band shows–everybody’s so nice.” Yet another RAD (that’s Random Act of Daveness).

On a side note, these two girls drank beer and danced for the full two hours and twenty minutes of the show, yet still in the end managed to look just as they had when they first sat down behind me–gorgeous, with flawless makeup and perfect hair. I, meanwhile, looked as if one of the band member’s tour buses had backed over me. Twice. And then leaked radiator fluid all over me to boot. Intellectually, I know I was once as young as these girls. Physically, I can’t believe I ever was. Rock on, ladies.

4) Speaking of tour buses, my night came full circle as I was dragging myself–drenched with sweat and dizzy from the heat–along the world’s longest block back to my hotel room. I was in the hotel drive, thankful that I was mere inches from air conditioning and a shower, when horns started blaring behind me on 4th Street. I (and the many others in the drive) turned around to see drummer Carter Beauford’s tour bus heading up the street with Carter sitting in the front seat by the driver, the door open so he could wave to fans. So I jumped up and down and waved and he waved back.

And he waved at me. I’m convinced of it. It was just another Random Act of Daveness (or Carterness, in this case).