Green Days: American Idiot, the Full Story

Are We The Waiting?


Easter Sunday.
Three In The Morning.

A few feet in front of his destination, Jesus stopped to take a breath and looked up towards the starry sky above. A silent message of thanks to whoever's watching him. The lights of the city were far off in the distance as Jesus made his way to the back alley.

A man came into focus. He was dressed in average attire, didn't appear over the age of twenty-four. Jesus continued walking onward and approached him.


The man turned his head and quickly scanned Jesus from head to toe before replying, as if checking to see Jesus was worthy enough to talk to.

"Yeah? Can I help you?"

"Well, I'm lost and I kinda have nowhere to go. I was wondering if you could help me."

The man fell silent, pondering his next move. Would he help Jesus, someone he just met off the street?

"You're lucky, you've definitely found the right place."


"This is a refuge, safe house for teens in the area."

A look of shock appeared on Jesus' face.

"Like some homeless thing sponsored by a church?"

"Oh, fuck no. This is a safe haven. It's a shelter by day and a punk club by night. That's how we keep up the funding. I live here as well so if you need a place for the night or for a while... "

Jesus couldn't believe his luck. A safe haven under the guise of a punk club? He'd never heard of anything like it, but he welcomed it all the same.

"Thank you, I'd appreciate it."

"So, what's your name, stranger?"

Jesus pondered for a moment. He left behind his old town, old friends, family. Shouldn't he leave behind his old nickname too?

"Uh, Jimmy."

"Jimmy, huh? My name's Vinny."

Vinny lead Jesus inside the back door. The place appeared much smaller on the outside. The door opened to a large, open room. A few punk scenesters were moving around. It took Jesus a minute or two for his eyes to focus in the darkness. He was in a club. A large stage was on the center wall of the room, two guys larger then himself were lifting the last of the equipment, presumably from the night's last show. A girl was behind a small counter, a makeshift bar or something, putting away the last of the vodka.

Jesus took one last look around the strange room before following behind Vinny. The two men walked through another door, this time it lead to a much smaller room, a desk in the center was scattered with papers, a computer in the corner. It, by all outward appearances, was an office. What would a non-profit punk club shelter need an office for and what sort of dealings transpired here?

Vinny hurried through the office and opened a final door. This time the room was around the same size as the club. Jesus could see maybe thirty dividers or so. He peered into one, a small cot and bedside table with a lamp. This is the shelter?

"Just take your pick. We just had dinner maybe an hour or so ago, but if you want anything I could fix something for you."

"Um, maybe some crackers and a glass of water."

"Sure thing, Jimmy. Oh, number twenty-six is my cot. I think twenty-seven is empty."

"Thanks, Vinny."

He nodded and walked through a door on the other side of the shelter, probably the kitchen. Jesus walked up and down the rows of cots. Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven. He finally found cot twenty-seven and looked at it. A few months ago, he wouldn't have ever dreamed of sleeping in a place as bleak as this. Times change. He sat down on the tiny cot and laid back. Was this what the rest of his life going to be like?

Vinny walked back into the room and pushed open the curtain with his free hand, his other cradling a tray with crackers and a glass of water.

"Here you go, Jimmy."


Jesus took the tray gladly and ate the crackers quickly and silently. Vinny smiled at him and then closed the curtain to head to his own cot. When Jesus finished he laid back down and stared at the ceiling of his shelter. Thoughts running through his head. Vinny seemed like a guy he could trust.


"Yeah, Jimmy," replied the man in a tired voice.

"Um, how long have you been here?"

"Maybe a year or so. Why?"

"Well, how did you end up here?"

"I was young and stupid. Thought I'd leave home and make a name for myself. As you can tell, that hasn't worked out to my liking. Why you wanna know?"

"I guess I'm in the same boat as you. I left home to see the world, go places, not be trapped in what I used to think was hell."

"You re-thinking that now?"

"Something like that."

"Yeah, well, we can't turn back the clock. I would if I could."

A few minutes of silence passed as Jesus tried to let Vinny's words soak in. He was just like him. Jesus didn't want to end up like Vinny, living in some shelter for a year. He had to get out of here. Had to make something of what's left of his pathetic excuse for a life. Jesus looked at the curtain again, it's blue faded color, that separated him form the only person he made a friend of in the big city.



"What are we waiting for?"


"What are we waiting for? Life to come slap us in the face and tell us where to go? We need to do something about it."

"About what, Jimmy?"

"About our lives. I don't want to live here for the rest of my life and I'm sure you don't want to either."

"Just go to sleep, Jimmy."

"But... "

"We'll talk in the morning," replies Vinny in a dark tone.

Jesus obliged and turned his head. As he drifted off into his dreams, dreams of this horrible town burning down, he could swear he heard a voice. He shook it off and continued to sleep. All throughout the night the voice came back again and again. Jesus of Suburbia is a lie. Are we the waiting?