Since we had such a good time the last time Josh Ritter came around, we went to go see him again at the Music Box last weekend. We met up with Gretchen and Anthony at Magnolia beforehand, and Bryan tried Jidori chicken (a strain of chicken supposed to be famously chickeny) and I had a nice, simple croque monsieur (one of the first things I learned to say in high school French class). After speedwalking through an unusually chilly night, we filed into a theater that seemed a lot more crowded this time around. The set was great, though there was one extended jam session where I paid a little more attention to my weakening legs and realized I wanted to sit down. (I guess this is why you don’t see a lot of pregnant ladies at rock concerts!) We managed to find a railing to lean on, which helped a lot. Bryan’s friend Austin, who was playing guitar, got us into the after party. So while security was shooing people out quickly so the Saturday night rave in the theater could get started, we went on a circuitous walk down to the basement. On the way down the stairs, we apparently passed John Krasinski, though only Bryan saw him. At the party, which was taking place in the size of a Manhattan railroad apartment, we also saw Rainn Wilson (unusually tall for an actor). We happened to find ourselves near Josh Ritter, who promptly gave us hugs and kept giving hugs down the line. One guy asked Bryan to take a picture of him and Josh. We asked him, trying to fish for an explanation for why he was down there, “Do you someone in the band?” “No,” he said. “I just get into places.” OK. Then: “Hey, are you going to be keeping your after-show passes,” he said, while looking at ours. I guess if you’re already pushing boundaries, why not push some more?