Leave Your Sister Unattended at Lolla and She Might Just Get Hitched!

by jlstratta on may 31, 2011

Saturday, August 4th, 2007 at roughly 5:30 PM, right after Regina Spektor finished her set at one of the side stages, my brother, and Lollapalooza companion, decided he was ready to go. He had enough of Lolla, enough of the rain and wanted to rest up. The sole purpose for his coming to Lolla, 2007 was to see the headlining act Pearl Jam. Like their other crazy, loyal fans, his plan was to get there on Sunday as soon as the gates opened and camp out in the front row of the Main Stage until Pearl Jam finished their set to conclude Lollapalooza, 2007. I, on the other hand, was thoroughly enjoying the scene, rain and all and decided to stick around the festival, solo. I texted a friend who I thought might be there and he told me to head to the Spoon stage; he was the one with the girl on his shoulders. Much to my dismay, everyone had a girl on their shoulders and navigating through the crowd at that point would be impossible. So, I headed to baseball diamond number nine, conveniently located next to the beer tent and in between the stage where Spoon was playing and the AT&T stage. I sipped my quasi-drinkable, warm Bud Light, enjoyed the sounds bouncing from the stages and the fantastic people watching. The rain continued to drizzle and I was approached by a group of excitable men who came to the show prepared for such a turn in the weather, armed with garbage bags from the nearby Walgreens. They graciously asked me if I would like a garbage bag to keep from getting soaked in the rain. I declined, as my windbreaker parka thing was doing the trick. Although I declined the garbage bag, they continued to make conversation with me, the four of them forming a semi-circle around me. All I could think was, "Great! These guys are using garbage bags to start conversations with girls at Lolla and they chose to start with me!" Until, out of the corner of my eye, I noticed there was one more in the pack, wearing a gray/green garbage bag, who hadn't made his way to the semi-circle just yet. He nudged his way in and chimed right in on the silly, semi-buzzed banter of strangers when they first meet. As time passed, and the group banter became less witty, the other members of the pack decided to try their luck with the garbage bags on other girls. Meanwhile this man clad in plastic, who straggled late to the circle, continued to engage me in conversation beneath the backdrop of the Chicago skyline as Muse provided the soundtrack. We spoke about our taste in music, politics, work and the fact that he was as much of sucker when it came to football – I being a Detroit Lions fan and he a fan of the Cleveland Browns, a by-product of growing up in the rust-belt area of the Mid-west, perhaps. As Muse began to close the evening's festivities and the rest of the pack came to round up their friend, I took the bold step and asked this late-comer for his phone number so that we could meet up again the next day and possibly catch Pearl Jam together. He kindly obliged and I also was sure that he took mine, as I was not going to be the one to call/text first. I didn't end up meeting up with him, the next day - he was caught up at the Bud Light stage watching Iggy Pop and I was holding my spot at the AT&T stage for Pearl Jam. But, he was the first to reach out and I received a text from him during Pearl Jam's set apologizing for not being able to find me and asked if he could take me out, next week. (Yes he asked me out via text!) We went on our first date a week later. From this one chance encounter over an offer of a garbage bag at Lollapalooza during a rain shower, I met the man who would take me to the Spanish Steps in Rome, the top of the Eiffel Tower in Paris, watch me graduate with my Master’s degree, the man I would support through his entrepreneurial adventure, the man who held my hand as I watched my dad take his last breath, the man that I married this past November (2010). Dodging Lakeshore Drive traffic, we made sure that we made a stop at Grant Park to find baseball diamond number nine – the very spot where we met - for one of our wedding photos. (See attached). If it weren't for my brother ditching me at Lollapalooza, I wouldn't have the great life that I have with man who approached me in a garbage bag. No, he didn't propose via text message and we didn’t wear garbage bags at our wedding!

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