'Could I Interest You in Hours of Fun?'

Last December, I set seeing Morrissey in concert as my lone New Year's Resolution. Sadly, timing and a lack of funds preventing me from seeing Morrissey at either of his LA shows this past March, first at the enormous Staples Center and then at the comparably cozy Hollywood High School auditorium. With his recent talk of retirement and spate of health issues, I figured I'd forever lost my chance to go to a Morrissey concert.

I got a second chance of sorts last night thanks to the concert film "Morrissey 25: Live," which will be released on DVD in October and was shown in theaters for one night only. The film captures the Hollywood High show and I wondered how many of the faithful gathered in the theater with me last night were there back in March, one of the 2,500 lucky fans who snagged tickets during that very brief on-sale window.

I know that going to a Morrissey concert is a special experience full of pomp and ritual. This knowledge both intrigued and intimidated me. Would I stand out when I didn't do that thing at that moment in that song? Would I miss a joke or important moment because I was a first-timer, an observer, and not part of that tribe?

I don't think that Morrissey fans are unfriendly or unwelcoming; I just understand that it can be difficult for an insider to explain the rituals and traditions to an outsider. I also respect the culture their love for the music and the man has created. I went to a Phish concert a few years ago and though the music was great and the fans were so warm, I left early because I didn't belong, I didn't know what to do at the certain moments when everyone else seemed to know exactly what to do, and that's part of experience.

Being one of those people, the super-fan, the nerd, is damn fun. I adore that rush of recognition at a U2 show when Edge plays for milliseconds and I know exactly what's coming next. My friend and I are in a (hopefully) never-ending text conversation populated entirely by lines from our favorite movies and TV shows. I blocked out the weekend as soon as this fall's CommuniCon was announced. I can trace the relationships between the characters in Kevin Smith's Askewniverse and did appreciate that "Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back" felt like it was made just for me, and the other fans out there like me.

My own experiences being one of those people help draw me to other über-fans—I want to play in their sandbox, too. It's so effortless dealing with people who speak your same language, who know the customs and celebrate the same holidays. It makes perfect sense to me that Simon Pegg and Nick Frost built a 20-year-plus friendship on a "Star Wars" reference, that of course they'd know "that's my kind of guy" based on a little only the two of them understood.

Even though I didn't know all the songs and wasn't primed for all the applause lines in Morrissey's show, I did appreciate the excitement, the dedication, the passion his fans are so eager to express. As Abed said on "Community" (and I quoted when I wrote about the first CommuniCon), "I guess I just like liking things," though in the case of Morrissey fans (and the rest of us who are diehards for whatever else) I guess they just love loving things, their man in particular, and I was happy to sit on the sidelines last night and just be an observer.