On Thursday, I left the Moncton train station. I had a cabin, which was well worth paying for. It was a 14+-hour trip to Montreal, and I would have been crippled had I been travelling in a regular seat.
On Friday, my train arrived in Montreal at 8am. I had a 90-minute stopover (where I had a great conversation with a ViaRail employee named Carl, who taught me what a nid-de-poule is).
I arrived in Ottawa at about 11:45, where I met my sister. It was great to see her after three months back in Charlottetown. I was fairly sleep-deprived after my restless night in the little train berth, but still, Marilyn and I hung out and ate.
At 7pm(ish), my cousin Kris picked Marilyn and I up to drive out to the former Corel Centre, now the Scotiabank Centre (rolls off the tongue, doesn’t it?) to see our Coldplay concert.
I know some might be saying, hey, Catherine, how do you justify travelling to Ontario for a concert when you’re constantly complaining about being jobless and penniless? I say, call me Miss Sweet. Then I say, I dunno. Having no money, not doing anything and not going anywhere for months on end is fairly oppressive, so digging into the line of credit for a little therapeutic trip is worth it.
Back to reality (oop, there goes gravity?): Kristina, her friend Jen(n?), Marilyn and I all agreed that Coldplay wasn’t our favourite band, but we didn’t change the radio station when they came on and we weren’t sick of their music. That was our gauge. I think only Kris and I have CDs of theirs, and I only have one. We also agreed that Chris Martin was cute and it how it be a mixed blessing to be an unrecognized Other Member of the band.
Kris and Jen(n) went off to their seats, which were separate from Marilyn’s and mine. We were almost as far from the stage as we could get, which actually wasn’t that bad because we were almost at a 90 degree angle with the stage, so we could see the whole thing.
The opening act was on when Marilyn and I entered, and a couple of songs in, I realized I recognized the music. I told Marilyn that I had heard this guy on virginradio.co.uk, and then I said, yeah, I think it’s that guy who went solo after his band had a huge hit that I didn’t particularly like. You know, that symphony song. Ugh, what’s it called. And then his last song was “Bittersweet Symphony” and it was Richard Ashcroft from The Verve. Well, I still don’t really like that song, but his set was great. There were moments where he sorta sounded like a more rock ‘n’ roll version of Van Morrison. Is his stuff played here on commercial radio? It was good, anyway.
More than half and hour after Ashcroft finished, Coldplay finally came out. In the interim, about 5 joints were passed around us, and the middle-aged couple next to me seemed increasingly agitated. I liked the man, though, despite his armrest-hogging. There were some high teeny-boppers behind us screaming like banshees and the man and I exchanged a look, as if to agree that they should all be sterilized.
Coldplay was great. Martin was a little melodramatic, falling to his knees and bending backwards while singing (actually vocally impressive), and stalking around the stage like he’s the chick in Duran Duran’s “Rio” video. Yeah, that’s right – I just referenced Duran Duran. Deal.
I recognized a lot more of their music than I thought I would, and did enjoy the whole show. At the Brit Awards, they announced that this would be their last tour for a while, and they’re taking a couple of years off. I don’t know why I was surprised that I liked the show so much. I guess I just didn’t expect it to be so good.