Stop burning bridges, and drive off of them

Whereas my experience with the New Orleans Believers Never Die Part Deux show Sunday was 100 percent as-if-out-of-a-dream perfection, my Atlanta experience was frustrating as hell.

My friend Jason drove over from Mississippi and met me at my apartment shortly after I arrived home from teaching class Thursday afternoon. We got on the road as quickly as possible and had a lovely road trip for the first few hours, listening to music and chatting. As soon as we got to Atlanta, the Interstate became a parking lot. It took us 90 minutes from that point in maddening bumper-to-bumper traffic to get to the arena.

The tickets said 7 p.m., and we arrived at the venue at 7:20, so I figured we'd miss Hey Monday but make it to our seats just in time to see whoever was playing next. When we got in, though, I heard the unmistakable sound of All Time Low (my favorite of the four opening acts) emitting from the house. I was crushed. Being that I absolutely had to pee, I beelined for the ladies' room, where I learned that Hey Monday had come on at 6:30 and ATL at 7, so their set was nearly finished.

We opted to grab a quick bite before heading to our seats. Gwinnett Arena is a fabulous, sparkling facility with great concessions. I wound up with a pretty delicious bowl of nachos - and by nachos I mean fresh chips, black beans, tomatoes and good queso sauce, not the usual stale chips and orange goop one typically finds at such establishments.

Our cushy seats were four rows from the floor a section over from the stage (pretty much directly across from where our seats were in New Orleans Sunday). We hadn't been sitting long before Cobra Starship came out. There was nothing appreciably different about their set from when I saw them a few days earlier and danced my ass off, but I couldn't get into it for a while. I was just heartbroken over missing ATL and exhausted from the ridiculous drive. I perked up some when they played "Snakes on a Plane" (which Hey Monday's Cassadee came out to sing with them) and was really ready to dance and have fun by the time they played their set closer, "Guilty Pleasure." Drummer Nate Navarro is from Atlanta, so his family was there watching from the wings of the stage.

Metro Station also performed the same set they did in New Orleans, banter and all. I learned last night that lead singer Trace Cyrus is the son of the infamous Billy Ray (which makes him Miley/Hannah Montana's brother). Wonder who the favorite child in that family is...

During Metro Station's set, this couple came and stood right in front of us, blocking our view while they tried to figure out where their seats were. When the two girls next to me decided to go for a potty break, the couple sat in their seats, only to have to move when the girls came back. They wound up a little down the row and disappeared a few songs into Fall Out Boy's set, never to return. Weird.

As the crew set up for FOB, we enjoyed quite a dance-off in the stands. Guys were shaking it like nobody's business, stripping their shirts off. The crowd ate it up.

Finally, it was time for Fall Out Boy. I felt a lot mellower when the lights dimmed than I had in New Orleans. But, after the whole riot opener, when the boys finally appeared, I felt a little skip in my heart.

During the first four songs in New Orleans, the vibe onstage was fairly laid-back. I contributed it to the suit "characters" then, but they rocked out on those numbers pretty hard last night.

The set was identical, except instead of playing "Patron Saint of Liars and Fakes" (the song that made me so excited Sunday), they played "'tell That Mick He Just Made My List of Things to Do Today." It seems they're switching out which song they play off Take This to Your Grave, other than the standards "Grand Theft Autumn" and "Saturday." I found it funny that the song I made my concert countdown song of the day on Facebook from that album each week was the one they played at that show. (Purely coincidence, of course, but cool nonetheless.) Just as Patron Saint made my night Sunday, Mick made it last night.

The banter was pretty similar. Obviously, the happy birthday bit and ensuing Shamwow comment were missing. At that point in the show, Justin came out and gave Pete a picture to sign. Pete told us that they had gotten a little camera in Japan that immediately prints out the picture (a digital version of the old Polaroid, I imagine), and that Justin had been taking photos all night that the band was signing. He said that if we saw Justin, we should ask him for one.

Pete also changed up his introduction to the "Beat It" cover a little bit. He told us there were three things that were great about 2009 so far: that "fucking cowboy" was out of the White House, Blink-182 reunited, and Michael Jackson was dancing again. The only other real difference in the performance was that Pete went up into the stands during the last chorus of "America's Suitehearts."

Patrick spoke a little bit. Alex from All Time Low had come out to harmonize with Patrick on the final chorus of Grand Theft Autumn, and as he left the stage, Pete told the crowd to give it up for him. When Alex "woo-hooed" himself, Patrick called him out on it, with an adorable little giggle.

Sitting on the opposite side of the stage and maybe a few seats further away from it provided a much better vantage point than what we had Sunday, giving me a great view of Joe, Patrick and Andy (whereas Pete and Patrick were the only ones of whom we had a good view Sunday).

Another major difference that affected my consumption of the show was that my Jason wasn't with me. Although I missed him terribly, my "hormonal" reaction to the boys (especially Patrick - yes, the silly girl crush is back) was much more pronounced. At one point I texted to my concert-buddy Jason (because it was too loud to tell him orally) that Patrick has the best thighs. Yowza.

Although the over-all experience was not as good as in New Orleans, I would say that I enjoyed Fall Out Boy's set just as much if not more. I don't know how I'll be able to wait three more weeks to see them again.