9/28/2012

(still) the best day ever.

Lindsay suggested that I share a story about funny mistakes I've made in my second language. There have been many, certainly, but one of my most mortifying language mistakes happened to take place on the Best Day Ever-- when Jero Romero played a show in Sevilla. (Disclaimer: This is probably hopefully the most teenybopper post you will ever see on this blog.)

If you spoke to me at all this spring, you were probably aware of the excitement that was building for that day. To say I was looking forward to it would be an understatement. It was scheduled to be the best day ever, and boy, did it live up to my expectations. I had waited for months to see Jero play live in Sevilla. Even though I had gone to Madrid a few months earlier to see him, the Sevilla concert was always meant to be something special.

The concert couldn't have been any more perfect. The crowd was kind of small, which made for a more intimate setting, always better when it comes to musicians you love! You could tell the band was having fun and enjoying the music they were playing. Of course, I was enjoying it all and singing along to every song. In my own, totally unbiased opinion, it was a perfect show.

What made it an even more exciting night was that Jero came out to hang out after the show. It was my moment. My fandom had been building for years, escalating each time I saw him from a distance in Toledo. For every chance sighting that I didn't say something to him, his celebrity would only increase in my mind. But at the Sevilla show, when he came out afterward, I knew it was now or never! I decided to buy a poster from his merch table, which would be the perfect recuerdo for my time in Spain, (afterall, the music of Jero Romero and The Sunday Drivers is pretty much the soundtrack for the last two years of my life). The poster was kind of big and awkward to carry, so I decided to ask the guy at the merch table for a rubber band. I don't claim to have an exceptional vocabulary of office supplies, but I was pretty sure that the word for rubber band was goma. I asked the merch guy if he had one, and he looked at me with a rather surprised expression on his face. So I asked the question again, this time signaling that I was going to roll up the poster. He answered me, kind of relieved, and told me that he would just give me some paper to wrap it in, that a rubber band would ruin the poster. I thought the exchange was kind of bizarre, but it wasn't until I walked away from the table that I realized that goma, literally meaning rubber, can also mean condom. I was so embarrassed. When I thought about my question in regard to the setting, I all of the sudden understood his initial aghast reaction. In my defense, the word goma was correct, but sometimes context is everything.

A little language mishap couldn't ruin the evening though! I did end up meeting Jero, (finally), and he signed the poster for me, and we took a picture. And then we walked away, letting the next people in line have their turn. As we were getting ready to go, I couldn't help but think that it was going to be my last chance to talk to the guy. I mean, in a few days, I would be heading back to the US, with no definite plans to return to Spain. I decided (with much encouragement from my dear friend Katie and that last gintonic) that I had to talk to him and tell him how much I loved his music. After the crowds dissipated, I had my chance. He was about to walk away when we called him over, and I spilled it all -- how I had been a fan since The Sunday Drivers, how I had lived in Toledo, how I was always sharing his music with everyone, how we went to his show in Madrid, and how this concert was the last hurrah before my return to the United States. In retrospect, I can't tell if it was a creepy exchange or not. The gintonic clouds that perception in my mind, but as far as I know, it was awesome. He said it was a beautiful story, and he thanked me for sharing, and told me to come say hi the next time I see him around. And then he gave me besos, which pretty much seals the deal as far as this being the Best Day Ever. My expectations were exceeded in every way, despite my embarrassing exchange with the man who sold me the poster.

And in case you still haven't heard it, you can listen to Jero's album here. I don't think you'll be disappointed. ;)

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