Patton Oswalt, Montclair, Husband and Wife!

 

When Suze and I first came to the Wellmont Theater at Montclair, NJ in 2018, it was to see industrial legends Ministry.  We were far to the left of the audience seats and well into the back, but we could still make out "Uncle Al" Jourgenson.  The man had so many piercings he looked like a Cenobite from the Hellraiser films.  We managed to get a lift from our longtime buddies Dom Manfredi and Kate Dervin.  While the ladies were on their best behavior, Dom and I had regressed into two eight year olds kicking each other in the ass and laughing as we drove and then walked to the Wellmont.

Fast forward to May of 2022.  Suze and I hopped five trains and walked a mile to get to the MC Hotel in Montclair.  I grumbled that we would never do that again, as I have an irrational hatred of the NYC subway and NJ Transit (Well, maybe not totally irrational).  That weekend's attraction was The Alan Parsons Project, who are way on the opposite side of the genre meter from Ministry.  As we got on line, I made note of all the sexagenarians waiting on line with us.  Suze and I figured we were the youngest couple waiting, with the exception of the teenage sons and daughters of the aging fans who were gently pressured into seeing these aging purveyors of light prog rock on stage.

Not long after we were seated, the band took the stage one by one.  As they vamped on their instruments Presley-in-Vegas style, Mr. Parsons was the last to take the stage.  And my first impression was...

"Jesus Christ, Suze!"  I exclaimed.  "He's a fucking beach ball!"

Yes, Mr. Alan Parsons was burdened with a massive belly no doubt bequeathed to him by rich foods and little exercise.  He carried himself relatively well, though he had to grip a railing to ascend the dais positioned center up (back and center) on stage.  He idly strummed an acoustic guitar as his band launched into recognizable numbers like "Eye in the Sky," "Don't Answer Me," and the eerily hypnotic "Sirius."  The Project performed exceedingly well that night.  Susan, a long time fan of Alan Parsons, was ecstatic.  I myself was mightily impressed by the music, with Alan's colossal girth being the secondary attraction.

So, why is comedian Patton Oswalt's name featured in this blog title instead of "Uncle Al" and "Sir Alan the Gross?"

Because I am writing to recount our latest outing to Montclair, NJ, this past Saturday the 9th of July!  This time we were wise enough to take our own car instead of five trains.  With the guidance of our GPS and Susan's steely nerves (We had to drive across the GW bridge, and she hates that bridge as much as I hate the city subway), we made it to the hip little city in record time.

The main drag of Montclair is blessed with diorama after diorama of various exotic eateries that were akin to monarch butterflies in the full bloom of summer.  The town seems to have recovered excellently in the wake of the pandemic.  It is as if the last two years hadn't happened.

Once again we arrived at the MC Hotel, leaving our Crosstrek with the valet.  We signed in and were treated to two water bottles my reception to cool ourselves on this balmy but a bit on the hot side day.  Collapsing on the bed of our room, we snuggled, dozed off and woke in time for a lovely hotel dinner.  I had NY strip steak and Susan enjoyed salmon.  Both were slathered in sauces, vegetables and starches of their own.  We were secure in the womb of the hotel.

A half of an hour before the show with Patton Oswalt, Suze and I struck out to the Wellmont Theater.  We were among the first on line and were quickly seated.  A screen on the stage displayed the up and coming performances scheduled for the Wellmont.  Much to my surprise and joy, the name of Jon Anderson, the lead singer of my favorite band Yes appeared on the screen.  He and his back up band were slated to celebrate and perform for the 50th anniversary of the entire album Close to the Edge, which I consider to be Yes' magnum opus.  Alas, we couldn't secure tickets because it takes place on Thursday, the 14th of July.  Susan cannot take the day off that day, but our fingers are crossed for a concert film made available on BluRay.

Enough of that!  Onto Mr. Patton Oswalt and his opening act, Scott Seiss.  Mr. Seiss is widely known for his "Angry Ikea Employee" character who appears on Tik Tok and Twitter.  I have often wondered if anything of value could come from those damnable apps, but Mr. Seiss proves that if your reach deep into a scummy pond, you may bring up a hidden diamond.

Scott recounted how he got involved in a bar fight where the security video recorded him standing stock still as bedlam raged around him.  The police officers on the scene later told Scott that they thought the security recording froze due to his petrified stance.  Scott went on to tell us about how his female dominated household as a child bullied him into sitting down to take a piss.  He was also taught to apply a single folded toilet sheet to sop of the last droplet of urine emerging from his urethra.  Wow.  I thought I was a momma's boy.

In a fluid exchange, star attraction Patton Oswalt took the stage and gave Mr. Seiss a hearty handshake as he, the opener, departed and waved to the audience.  Immediately Oswalt regaled us with a story that had happened just before his arrival to Montclair involving a car service that was picking him up from a hotel in NYC.  It involved an enraged limo driver and a massive slab of a man on a Vespa coming to blows.  It ended up with the limo driver being practically keel hauled up 6th Avenue by the Vespa rider.  When the driver returned to the limo where a petrified Patton sat in the rear, the driver's lackadaisical comment chilled him even further.

NO MORE SPOILERS.

What continuously amazes me about Patton Oswalt is how he lives such a peculiar life and set it to jokes.  It's talking for clapping as he once phrased it.  Tales of pubic hair and violently loosened bowels are interwoven with piercing insights about the human creature and the voting habits of America's living successive generations - from the Greatest Generation to the Zoomers.  He marvels at the innovations and conveniences of the 21st Century and how even they can't fully liberate us from the limitations of our bodies and our bowels in particular.

After the show, Susan and I merrily walked up the main drag still sunlit by the lengthened days of summer.  We went past the dioramas of restaurants and other curiosities on the way back to the hotel.  We slept well, woke the next day, had a hearty hotel breakfast, a casual stroll around the town off the main drag, and finally prepared to go home.

Please note:  All of this is gloriously true, though some of what I said is seen through slightly rose tinted lenses.  Susan, who begins her blog series today, will no doubt recount the same events, but will probably include the ordeal of me switching stations on our satellite radio and bitching about how much I hate particular songs on Lithium (90s alternative music) and First Wave (80s alternative music) and alternately praising and singing along to others.  There were also continued threats on my part to switch to the Liquid Metal station to hear some noise, thrash, and speed metal...

...but enough of that!

- JJB