One night and never again. This is the story of two boys and their journey through heartbreak and defeat, only to arrive at the sweetest victory they would have never imagined.
Over the proceeding two months, Mr. Manera and Mr. Ranic were on a mission. A mission to track down and interview the band and man that sing them to sleep through their bedroom speakers and keep them obsessively tapping their sneakers: Fall Out Boy.
After a near-religious experience during the mid-summer nights Honda Civic Tour in which we locked eyes and intertwined souls with Fall Out mastermind Peter Lewis Kingston Wentz III, our destinies were set. Little did we know that this so-called destiny would be a stitch away from attainable and a scar away from falling apart and staking our withered hearts. Either way, breaking hearts has never looked so cool.
The summer faded to fall and emotionally, our adolescence took over as we wrote our future with gold aspirations, all under a strategically placed cork tree. As we reached for the fruit atop, leaves oft fell in our way, impairing our vision and causing our grasps to come up with nothing but dry, deadened unfulfillment. Pretentious promoters, uptight publicists and carelessly cast away Island Records reps such as Adesina Dowers blew our one-on-one interview with Pete Wentz into the unsweetened afterlife of the party because it didn't fit their far too important, overly embellished grande white chocolate peppermint mocha-sipping schedules.
What we thought was certain became naught as the emotional burden of the rapidly approaching Young Wild Things tour starring none other than our fabulous FOB four hung on our ticket-less hearts as we hung on to every letter of every song as deterrents tried to pull us out of the day we were supposed to meet. Were we through with Pete? Think again.
Our blooming moment in the Flower City had wilted before our eyes, closing open doors that were once open-ended. We couldn't sleep in the wake of this tragic daze.
As we kicked our hopes and hearts around the floor like a crushed pop can and dreamt of what could have Wentz, life became about as enjoyable as that first spin of Evening Out With Your Girlfriend. We needed to change side one of our skipping record...flip it over.
It started with the faint hum of white noise, like the calm before the storm. A little bird found its way upon Mr. Ranic's shoulder and gently hummed hallelujah, an auditory sedative to our restless, faithless eardrums. Needless to say, we put down the sticks and ceased banging our doldrums.
That bird informed him that the Dunder Mifflen supergroup Schrute Farms would be playing a show in Buffalo. Bewildered, he inquired the meaning behind the notification of this band that he had never heard. Get ready for this.
And then the hammer hit harder than the police-enforced kick to the junk that Chris Hanson unleashes to the aroused and ready skeeves that have just been offered a seat on To Catch a Predator. Schrute Farms = Fall Out Boy.
And of all the gin joints in the entire world, they picked the dark, dingy, hole in the wall that is the Mohawk Place. Excited beyond belief and screaming praise slightly off the key of reason, Mr. Ranic rushed to his computational device and purchased four golden tickets. Now to spread the word like hacked Sidekick pictures across the Internet.
With hands shaking like epileptics during a laser show and a heart that fluttered like the butterflies that were now gracing his stomach, Mr. Ranic called Mr. Manera with the biggest secret he couldn't bare to keep. Mr. Manera proceeded to pull over his automotive vehicle and fully digest the news. He didn't sleep that night.
Fast-forward to Nov. 19 and why we'll forever be indebted to Keith Buckley: The ETID singer had been chums with Wentz and Nov.19, just so happens to be his birthday. He convinced FOB to play the Mohawk Place as a secret stop on their tour, and along with a few others, the show was recorded for an upcoming live DVD release.
When the day finally arrived, the excitement steadily grew, along with the line that spread itself across the dark alley that is Mohawk Place. Mr. Ranic, his oldest and closet friend, a certain someone that took refuge in his head and heart, his partner in crime, Mr. Manera and about 200 other lucky insiders parked their car-crash hearts outside until the festivities began.
Four Year Strong opened the show and catered to eager ears, all the while igniting a pit and quelling nothing but the urge to throw down.
As the stage emptied of musicians and filled with oversized bodyguards and signature Fender Squire bass guitars, the unbelievably tiny concert venue quivered with anticipation. Strangers became closer than they could have hoped as everyone consolidated into the tightest mass of people possible before bursting at the seam. The lights dimmed, and what was once a scene became an arms race for those eager to get closer to the most angelic of musicians.
Patrick Stump, Joe Trohman, Andy Hurley and Pete Wentz took the tiny venue that had been thunderous with anticipation by storm and didn't leave until every attendee was drenched in sweat and left gasping for breath.
The set list consisted of FOB's classic release Take This To Your Grave in its entirety. Since they rarely play any tracks off of TTTYG, let alone the entire release, this night was more than special. As true fans, this night was ours.
Before concluding the album and fleeing back into the limelight, FOB offered the night's conductor a spot on the stage. After kindly smashing a birthday cake into Keith Buckley's face, Wentz offered a hug and the microphone. FOB and Buckley immediately went into the most deliciously absurd cover of Pantera's "Walk" imaginable, which Buckley finished by belting the final words as he crowd surfed across the venue.
FOB left as quickly as they came. When TTTYG was complete, they kicked over their drums, handed off their guitars, flicked their picks into the crowd and like that they were gone into the night with Ashlee Simpson in tow.
It was a surreal experience - seeing at the smallest local venue imaginable a band that had just played Madison Square Garden a week before and sells out the biggest arenas across the States and overseas.
On that night we were a part of music history. And you can take that to your grave.
Photo: Courtesy of Laron Fomby
