Well once again that time of the year has come and I once again ask myself: "Why the hell am I doing this." Sure, I could be asleep in my bed with my lovely life partner or dog. Perhaps waking late to drink craft press pot coffee while watching old Law & Order episodes. Maybe we decide to go get breakfast at a small bistro just off the way. Soufflé eggs with Frech pastries. Where am I instead? Standing in a line 100 deep on the side of a busy road waiting for my local record store to open, hoping that the one limited LP I desire won't be snatched up only to end up on Ebay an hour later for four times its retail price.
Yes, it's Record Store Day.
For those of you not in the know this is the annual celebration of returned physical media when independent record stores sell specially made releases of all variety. Due to the small printing size of some of these releases waiting lines begin up to 10 hours before opening in some locations. My record store, Park Ave CDs in Orlando, is one of those. Last year I had a...unpleasant experience with camping out, so this year I decided to rise before the sun and get in line where Fate falls. Here's how it fell...
Mind you that's not my record store but the gas station down the street. *sigh*.
One hour till opening, hours left in line. I'll keep posting as best I can. Till then...
One thing that is, thankfully, great about overnight lines is that once everyone starts rousting from a unpleasant nice sleep the line gets shorter. The polite personal space that many have cultivated is abandoned for desperate closeness. You are now standing in a Disney line and one thing that Floridians know what to do is stand in Disney lines (make cheap meth is the other).
At this point you may be wondering, "Hey Strange, what are you looking to get?"
MIND OUR OWN DAMN BUISNESS!!!
Sorry...no sleep. I will be more then happy to post images of my haul when it's safely at the secret volcano fort but until then I will remain tight-lipped.
Why? Easy, fear. You don't talk about your vinyl list in line not because you have a fear that someone in front of you will take your one holy grail. No, you keep your list secret in your heart because of a irrational fear that by saying your dream picks outloud will make them disappear.
It's completely silly and unscientific, if they are only so many records in a set you will not get them if you are later in line, but this is largely a game of hope. Hope that someone will overlook something. Hope that your taste is too obscure to prove fatal. Hope that maybe you will get that one-in-a-thousand release.
It's a lie, but a pretty lie.
The doors have opened and the first customers are having their way with he fresh, prestine copies of beautiful LPs.
This is the worst part of RSD. It's the long wait as you slowly begin to panic. You imagine every single one of your picks stolen away. All your waiting, the purpose for standing for three plus hours, will be for nothing. To paraphrase Comic Book Guy, you have wasted your life.
And the sun is out now.
Screw Florida summers.
30 deep now to the door. This line has moved faster ten any RSD line I have waited in. I had my doubts about getting up this morning an getting in line, but things are working out pretty good. Maybe luck will indeed smile on me...but I doubt it.
The thing is, I have no "Need" albums this year. Everything falls into that "I could own this but can live without" category. This makes the stress so much easier.
Last year I got in line so early for the Glow-in-the-Dark ParaNorman OST from Mondo. Three hours away from the "unpleasntness" I decide to spark a conversation with my line neighbor. We exchange niceties and such which eventually leads to what we're planning to pick up once inside. This was my mistake. He proceeded to tell me how not only was he going to get the only copy of ParaNorman (I already knew he was going to get in before me) but that his ultimate endgame was to flip it later online.
Here's the thing about flippers, we all hate them. The second market for vinyl is down right demonic at times with flippers quoting hundreds of dollars on promised LPs. Records that they don't even own yet. But here's the thing: we make the market. We give the flippers money and make this sinister deed stronger. It's like paying ransom or blackmail. This all, or course, is my humble opinion.
This no sleep is really starting to kick in.