13 years later, let's talk about "Passenger Seat"...

It's no secret to anyone that knows me or has met me that my favorite band is Death Cab for Cutie. Every lyric of every song that's come from the mind of Ben Gibbard has meant more than music can hold. Each rhythmic pulse and guitar tone has hit me in all the right places. While each record of their's has held a special spot in my heart there's one record, entitled Transatlanticism, that I met at exactly the right moment in my life and has reverberated since that moment in every aspect of my life. And while I'd love to just review that record in hindsight, I'd be here for months writing this, so I'll simply tell you a candid story about the song "Passenger Seat", a story that starts the summer after my Junior year in High School and has echoed in my heart and my life to this day.

Let me paint you a picture. I was 17. It was the summer after my Junior year, but more importantly it was the summer after my first prom. The summer of my first feels. That spring I went to prom with a girl named Sarah. I was a loser so I didn't actually ask her to prom. My friend found out that I had a crush on her and faked a note in my name and slipped it to her, to which Sarah said "Yes". Man, fake Alex was a lothario. Fake Alex had all the right moves. But truth be told, Fake Alex was a nervous, anxious whiney pussy around girls, still is ironically.

So I went to prom with her. I remember it all. She wore a pink dress that made her look between a mix of a flapper and a pineapple. I danced in a corner with my friends then nervously asked her to slow dance to some 90's R&B song that doesn't even warrant a mention. We went to after prom. No real interaction. And even went to Denny's and she fell asleep in the back of my friend Derek's car as we drove past green light after green light at 5:30 am on the way home with the stirring sounds of Modest Mouse's "World at Large" humming from broken side speakers.

Flash forward a few months. I made it a habit that summer to discover new music every day (as we all did in High School, right?). I would head into the basement office of my parents house, hop online, find new music, download what seemed cool from Bearshare or Limewire, and give it a listen or two. It was at this time that Sarah was back home with her family in Indonesia, Jakarta to be exact, for the summer. Our communication was limited to early morning or late night chats via AIM (my SN is thejajunker if you're still on there). Naive High School Alex thought he was in love with this girl. Because let's face it kids, she said yes. Right? That must have meant she was in love with me, right? RIGHT? Well one day, I mustered up the guts to tell her I thought she was the coolest and that I hoped we could date when she came home, and guess what...? SHOT DOWN. Friend zone. I must have "read too much into it". Welcome to my first "heartbreak".

So one day, my buddy told me about Death Cab for Cutie. Granted, I'd seen people at school with their shirts on, people that were obviously cooler than me. People in touch with what was going on in the Northwest music "scene". So, on a whim I downloaded their most recent album Transatlanticism, released in October 2003, only about 6 or 7 months previously. Upon first listen it was good. Starts bombastically, carries melodically through a few tunes, has some catchy dittys, but then in gets quiet. Real quiet. And you can't help but notice every word and nuance of what's happening in your headphones. And the low rumblings begin and signal the start of "Passenger Seat". I don't even remember it. I remember it ending and I took my headphones off, leaned back in my chair, and cried.

It's an obviously simple tale of nostalgia for a past loved one. It's not a story of the most romantic moment you've ever experienced or some grand tale of falling in love for the first time. But a moment that's simply peaceful because you experienced it with someone you loved. A moment you can't have back and never will have again with any other. It hit me right in the gut. You know that feeling, right? You want to simultaneously throw up, crash on your knees crying, smile, and scream. Well it hit me right after a heartbreak and it has every day since.

"Passenger Seat" is everything I want in life but at the same time everything I know I can't create nor seek out. It makes me relive, hurt, and move on all in that order. It has me missing a moment carving my initials next to anothers at the top of the Great Wall in China. It makes me relive tearful, joyful conversations on a blustery evening on the Gulf Coast in Mississippi. It makes me long for a first kiss in the middle of the street outside After Dark. I relive drinking games at 5 AM two weeks before a move to Korea. I pine for late night walks around Fort Wayne and watching the sunrise atop a parking garage at 7 in the morning. I yearn for all day brunch crawls, coffee, and conversations about backyard bunny rabbits. "Passenger Seat" puts me in a good moment and then makes me miss it at the same damn time. I feel, at once, a moment of pure joy unadulterated by hindsight and context, and than lose it the next second.

I hope everyone, at some point, in life finds their own "Passenger Seat", finds their own pure form of nostalgia. Heartbreak doesn't have to hurt. Sometimes it can be more. Sometimes it can be beautiful.