The Show Must Roll On: MCR DC 2026

Okay so there’s no denying that the big thing from this week was my trip to DC, so pull up a chair and I’ll pour some drinks and we’ll get right down to it.

There were five of us: Marie and Jeralyn and Daniel and Alex and me.

We left Monday morning with a tank full of gas, a playlist already queued, and a Dunkin Donuts order waiting for us before we hit the highway. There were also bags of Road Trip Snacks: for me, that meant Swedish Fish gummies and a few packs of Combos from the Dollar Tree. My Dunkin order was a Boston Cream donut and an iced coffee with Splenda and a pump of raspberry syrup. I’d never had it before, but it was good.

We spent the first hour or so just chatting.

Though we’ve known each other just a little under a year, this was the first time we’d taken a road trip together, or spent longer than a couple hours together. Okay, that’s not quite true. In this regard I was the odd one out: the other four have known each other quite some time, so it was really me that was the new variable in the equation.

As it turns out, we had all been worrying that we’d get an hour or two into the trip and things would all fall apart. I was worried they’d decide they didn’t like me after all and that it had been a bad idea to invite me along but they’d put up with me nonetheless. They were worried I wouldn’t like them and regret coming with them and that it would be an awkward three days.

Thankfully, both of those scenarios were the furthest things from the truth. We discovered we have a lot more in common than My Chemical Romance and our choices of weekend hangouts – for example, we jammed out to theatre and showtunes for an hour or more and it was glorious.

Now, before I left, I had this gut feeling about the trip that said “Little on this trip will go as planned. Just roll with it, and it’ll be a good time.”

Little did I know how true my insides would prove to be.

Maybe the first indication was when the GPS decided to direct us away from the highway and onto some backroads that few of us recognized, though we knew the general direction we were headed. Long story short, the GPS rerouted us away from one point on US 95 North to another about an hour away. Why it chose to do this we do not know, but we rolled with it, periodically commenting on the things we were passing (or lack thereof) and noting when we saw familiar landmarks. We also commented on the driving capabilities of other on the road (or lack thereof).

And then we were finally on 95 headed to the Virginia border. Before we crossed the state line, we stopped for gas and a stretch break. I found a Mountain Dew LiveWire and since our local distribution company is hit or miss (mainly miss) on stocking it, I got a bottle.

The rest of the trip as we made our way towards DC was spent talking and singing and singing and talking and sometimes closing our eyes just for a moment (but not Daniel, who was driving. We were being safe as possible, after all).

One time we saw a police officer in their cruiser scrolling on their cell phone.

Eventually we got into DC itself and traffic ground to a halt and we spent over an hour going the last three miles.

And then we got to the Air B&B and found it decidedly not as advertised.

• The outside smelled strongly of a certain burnable substance that is legal to grow, possess, and use in DC but cannot be sold for recreational purposes. I’m all for a live and let live attitude, but when the smell is so strong that it begins to affect the breathing of others, that may be too much.
• The outside was also physically dangerous, with rickety railings on crumbling concrete steps and exposed wires in the grass reaching out over the walkway and poking into people’s legs if they walked by unaware.
• Inside was not much better, with so much damage that we were glad we’d been filming our entry the whole way in. Marks and holes in the walls, stained furniture – it was not well kept.
• The listing also failed to mention that the location may have been four bedrooms two baths but it failed to mention that it was a three level property, and was decidedly not mobility-friendly with the stairs being carefully cut or cropped from frame in the listing – almost like the owners knew what they were doing, but I don’t want to speculate too much on that regard.

We didn’t get evil vibes from the place, but neither did we get good vibes and we were hesitant to stay when we all felt uncomfortable. In the end, we pooled resources to get a hotel room instead, picking up some drive through chicken sandwiches on the way.

When we got to the hotel we realized that in our tired and disoriented haste we had not checked on parking. We found a lot directly behind the hotel; again – the theme of the trip was “roll with it”.

When we booked the room, it said it slept five, but it really wasn’t set up for five. I was more than happy to make a pallet on the floor, though convincing the rest of the group took some effort. An extra blanket or two and a few pillows and I was snug as a bug in a rug. Except the hotel room had wood (or wood laminate) flooring.

We de-stressed in various ways. For example, Marie and Jeralyn and I looked at the office windows across the street, identified a David Tennant standee, and then spent several minutes debating which standee it was, exactly.

We eventually fell asleep to the sounds of Markiplier on YouTube.

We woke up the next day and walked a few blocks to a nearby eatery called Busboys and Poets for a late breakfast or early lunch. I had a lavender latte and Portobello Shawarma with fries. Daniel had sweet potato pancakes; Marie, french toast; Jer, a brisket hash; and Alex had a chicken sandwich. Everyone enjoyed everything, with Alex stating it was the best chicken sandwich they’d ever had.

Realizing we had some time to spend, we took a walking tour. We saw the Friendship Arch in the Chinatown district, art in Palmer Alley, and then decided to dip into the Smithsonian American Art Museum for some much needed air conditioning. When the docent said most people came for the presidential portraits, we went in the opposite direction and started on the third and fourth floor. We saw an exhibition titled Mammoth by Nick Cave (not the same as the singer with the Bad Seeds), a display of model-size American cars, and more than a few sculptures and two stained glass windows.

Of course, we had to visit the gift shop even if it was in the complete opposite location from where we were, but we went and I got a postcard of Alma Thomas’ The Eclipse (1970).

To my shame, back on the third floor, I had to pass by a squished penny machine as I had neither quarters nor pennies. I suppose that’s a reason to (maybe) go back one day.

Then it was back to the hotel room to get ready for the concert. We thought traffic would be bad and so left a little earlier than originally planned, which also meant I had less time to do my makeup than I had planned. But I rolled with it and simply put on my GASH eye shadow and called it good.

And it was good. Marie and Jer told me so, and I believe them.

We got to the garage early but our parking reservation app had a “check in early” option that we tried to use, but the QR code wouldn’t trigger the gate and the parking attendant was less than helpful and seemed to relish the fact he had power in this situation.

Once again rolling with it, we found a spot to wait the half hour until our reservation opened and then we were in the garage and got a spot close to the exit. Then it was up the elevator and out into the street where we followed the crowd of other fans in MCR gear to the main gates of Nationals Stadium.

There was a brief moment of concern about the bags we’d be allowed to take in, as not everyone had a clear bag, but the venue had said solid bags under a certain size would be allowed. It was just the fact that no one else had them that was causing the concern. But then we saw others with the same style bags and a security guard that was talking to folks about their bags passed our group by, so . . .

My concern was that there’d be a problem with the tickets for whatever reason, and I had a moment of panic when the phone with the tickets locked on me when I went to scan it (okay, I hit the lock button on the side, so that’s on me) but Marie unlocked it and then we were in the stadium!

We were handed out YAY/NAY voting cards for the performance portion of the concert and then our first stop was a merch stand.

We waited in line for maybe a half hour, and while we waited I saw someone who knows me. Or at least they recognized me from social media as I designed and printed my shirt. I’m sad to say that I’m terrible with names and faces and I wasn’t in the headspace at that moment to figure it out, so if that was you and you’re reading this, I’ve been trying to figure out your identity since Tuesday and I’m no closer to an answer.

Who are you? If you’re reading this, please tell me!

At the merch stand I got a DC-exclusive poster and a Black Parade tour shirt with the locations styled after the original Black Parade track list design.

While we waited for everyone to make it through the line, Jer took some photos of me.

Thanks, Jer!

Ahead of us were several flights of ramps as we went up and up an up into the nosebleeds. We weren’t in the highest section of the stadium, but we were close.

Now, there was one small issue with the seats: they weren’t all together. There were four together, then a group of two, and then a fifth, which was mine. We figured that when the others came to the seats we’d ask if they’d mind switching one seat so we could all sit together.

While we waited we had fun seeing what others were wearing, and a group in front of us was passing out bracelets. One of them saw my awesome tattoo and motioned for the bracelet-giving friend to give me one, and that’s how I ended up with a bead bracelet that says “Cemetery Drive”.

Now, I’m not saying it’s better than any of the merch I got, but it might just be better than the shirt . . .

Then the folks with the two seats came and I think at first they though I was trying to steal seats or jump sections or something because they said no, and that was fine since they had, indeed bought those tickets. I mean, it’s not like these were pit tickets or obstructed view or anything, but folks are certainly able to say no to switching seats.

So then the opener comes on and it’s Modest Mouse and of course I’ve heard of them but I don’t actually know any of their songs beyond “Float” but they’ve got a decent sound so I’m nodding and boppinng along and texting with my friends down the row and Krystal and one of my cousins and I was determined to not let it bother me – you know: roll with it.

Modest Mouse ended their set much sweatier than they started and it would be another 45 minutes or so until MCR started their show and that’s when one of the two folks next to me said “oh so that’s the seat you actually got” and when I assured them that it was and that we’d only hoped that whoever ended up between us would be willing to switch one seat they said “well, I’ve thought better of myself” (or something like that) and switched seats with me.

Huzzah.

Now reunited, we watched the propaganda posters on the screens until the concert started.

When the concert started, I tried to take photos, but my camera was like “nope. not gonna cooperate. you need to be in this moment.”

And so I did.

But that’s not to say I didn’t try to capture a few moments:

I wish I could tell how just how much this concert meant to me or affected me.

To say it was “amazing” would be an understatement. MCR’s music has been with me for decades and got me through some really dark times and then to physically feel the music rising through the concrete and into and through my body and to be there with tens of thousands of other fans singing along even as the band themselves was never once drowned out and to see the performance they’d prepared for us play out on the screens . . . I don’t think it would be hyperbole to say it was almost a religious experience: raw and emotional and healing even as it hurt in the best possible way.

Now you may want to know how much I cried.

It was a lot.

I made a list.

Main Stage: The Black Parade

• The End. = I did not cry
• Dead! = I did not cry
• This is How I Disappear = I cried
• The Sharpest Lives = I cried
• Welcome to the Black Parade = I cried
• I Don’t Love You = I cried
• House of Wolves = I did not cry, but this was a good emotional reset for me. I also have a House of Wolves t-shirt that I’d worn earlier in the day.
• Cancer = I cried
• Mama = I cried (and broke down screaming “you should have raised a baby girl / I should have been a better son” – which I think began to heal something deep inside)
• Sleep = I cried
• Teenagers = I did not cry
• Disenchanted = I cried
• Famous Last Words = I cried (okay “sobbed” is better here)
• The End. (reprise) = I did not cry
• Blood = I did not cry

B Stage: Various Songs

• Hang ‘Em High (Three Cheers) = I did not cry
• Surrender the Night (Conventional Weapons) = I did not cry
• Na Na Na (Danger Days) = I did not cry; I find it a fun, jump around kind of song
• The Ghost of You (Three Cheers) = I sobbed. This is was my top song choice for the B Stage and hearing it live still seems surreal to me.
• DESTROYA (Danger Days) = I did not cry
• I’m Not Okay (I Promise) (Three Cheers) = I cried
• Desolation Row (Bob Dylan cover) = I did not cry
• Party Poison (Danger Days) = I did not cry
• Helena (Three Cheers) = I cried. SO MUCH
• Desert Song (Three Cheers) = I cried

I’ve got two videos. They won’t win awards or feature on anyone’s highlight real, but they’re proof I was there.

The Ghost of You

Helena

Then the concert was over (as much as I wanted to stay in that moment) and making our way out I received SO MANY compliments on my tattoo!

We tried to make our way back to the vehicle only to find that all the elevators down to the garage were in lobbies that were now locked.

Fun times.

Roll with it.

So we found the entryway and followed the rest of the crowd flowing in. Then it was another waiting game for someone to make room for us (pun intended there) and then it was Traffic Time – – until Jeralyn realized we could avoid the traffic if she could figure out how to change the route on our GPS. I suggested ending the route and then restarting it, and it worked!

We made it back to the hotel and crashed into bed.

The next morning we woke up and packed and we were all in agreement that going back to Busboys and Poets was a good idea. This time Marie and I had pancakes, Alex had pancakes and chicken, Jeralyn had the french toast, and I think Daniel had pancakes (but I could be wrong about that).

I also had multigrain toast and a regular drip coffee with a shot of pumpkin syrup, which came in its own little metal pitcher.

Marie commented that I tended to order the most aesthetically pleasing food, and I take that as a great compliment!

On the way out I also picked up two stickers, one for Krystal and one for me.

Marie had wanted to see some of the monuments, so we did a quick dive and saw the Washington Monument and the Jefferson Memorial and the Forestry Building and the Department of Agriculture. We also saw the dome of the capitol, but I can’t remember if that was on this drive or the one from the night before on the way back to the hotel.

What I do know is that we kept getting detoured off of Pennsylvania Avenue even as the GPS tried to send us down it, and it seems they were closing down the street for a “freedom 250 Grand Prix“?!?

Fun Fact: as I was working on this post I heard an NPR segment on the test and trial runs, and the fact that the course didn’t live up to expectations is to be expected and the schadenfreude is quite real.

And then it was time to head home, and we made great time, even accounting for stopping for gas and sandwiches.

When I made it home I stopped in for McNuggets at McDonald’s, put on Monty Python’s Flying Circus, and went to bed.

The next morning I was up to make sugar water for the humming birds and get ready for work – but truth be told I had (and still have) a real bad case of the post-concert blues.

Some people asked why I went to work, and I knew that if I went in on Thursday it would take me Thursday and Friday to catch up and and ease back into things so that when Monday arrives it won’t be the most Monday to ever Monday. I think I chose correctly, even if I could have used another hour or so of sleep.

I can say the humming birds were glad I returned and put out fresh water for them.

Friday night I made bacon and pineapple pizza, and then Saturday we went thrifting. I found a brass or copper bud vase with a humming bird on it; I’m going to clean it up and put some fake flowers in it and take it in to my office. I also got a frame for my concert poster and now it’s on the wall. I looked for a frame for my yay/nay placard but didn’t find the style I was looking for. I now wish I had had the presence of mind to get two cards while I had the chance!

Other thrift store finds included a pewter cat paperclip, an orange cat carabiner, and a vintage owl match holder, who’s a little bit dinged up, but I’ve been watching him for about a month and he was still at the shop and I decided he needed to come home with me.

Saturday afternoon was spent cleaning and taking short breaks to write this blog and I made chicken and rice in the crock pot (at Krystal’s suggestion) and it turned out so good I have to try to remember how I made it so I can make it the same way next time.

Usually I just kind of throw things together with what I think will work and so far it always has, but this one has been really really really good.

And now it’s Sunday, and I’ve had my toast and coffee and cereal, and I have some more cleaning to do in the kitchen (like mop the floor, yuck) and clean the downstairs bathroom (also yuck). But I’m also making sweet tea and also more sugar water for the hummingbirds – does that make me their sugar daddy?

I guess we’ll leave that question for the philosophers.

What about you?

What have you been up to?