My youth
Last week Ryan and I went to a Swingin' Utters show in Santa Cruz and over the course of the evening it became more and more tediously evident that I AM OLD!
Now, I was not the oldest one in years, not by a long shot. But in terms of my soul, I was one hundred and seven; approximately.
My first cue was my watch. When we arrived it was already 9pm and the band wasn't set to play until 11:30. A quick math session later and I was like, "dude, we aren't going to get home until like 2am! I haven't been up until 2am in years! And did I really just say ALREADY 9pm? Someone bring me Centruim Silver with a scotch back"
Moving on.
I know some of you reading this have never been to a show so I am going to clarify a few things before I continue. Shows are HOT. They are CROWDED. People TOUCH and BUMP into you. People SPILL THEIR DRINKS ON YOU. People PUSH you, hard. It is LOUD. It SMELLS. And there is ALWAYS an asshole in the bunch that makes all above stated worse.
Now that we have cleared that up, on to my next cue.
The crowd. I used to be part of it. Up front singing, smashed against the stage, peoples sweat and beer dripping down my back, bruising my ribs, dancing, and all the while loving it.
This time, and to be honest probably the past 10 times, I stood in the back by the wall; safely away from the pushing, the beer spilling, the bruises and the sweat.
Booze. I used to drink a lot of it at shows which probably explains why I was up front being smashed with not a care in the world. Now," I'll have a water with no ice please. It's hot in there and I'd hate to get dehydrated."
Footwear. I used to wear chucks or flats because when you are actually in the crowd people step on your feet and spill on your feet and I would hate to ruin my heels. Now I wear the heels and I must say, they come in handy if you are standing in the back and still want to see your husband up front dancing and NOT being old.
I also imagined myself using them as a weapon to hit the asshole that makes everything worse over the head if he pushed me even ONE. MORE. TIME.
Although I am ranting about shows, there is something about going to a show that makes me forget about the sweat, the beer spills, and shoving and makes me feel so good inside, so alive. And so I will continue to go and stand in the back and roll my eyes at the asshole and smile at Ryan dancing and get a ring in my ear and smile as I fall into bed, preemptive asprin in hand.
Now, I was not the oldest one in years, not by a long shot. But in terms of my soul, I was one hundred and seven; approximately.
My first cue was my watch. When we arrived it was already 9pm and the band wasn't set to play until 11:30. A quick math session later and I was like, "dude, we aren't going to get home until like 2am! I haven't been up until 2am in years! And did I really just say ALREADY 9pm? Someone bring me Centruim Silver with a scotch back"
Moving on.
I know some of you reading this have never been to a show so I am going to clarify a few things before I continue. Shows are HOT. They are CROWDED. People TOUCH and BUMP into you. People SPILL THEIR DRINKS ON YOU. People PUSH you, hard. It is LOUD. It SMELLS. And there is ALWAYS an asshole in the bunch that makes all above stated worse.
Now that we have cleared that up, on to my next cue.
The crowd. I used to be part of it. Up front singing, smashed against the stage, peoples sweat and beer dripping down my back, bruising my ribs, dancing, and all the while loving it.
This time, and to be honest probably the past 10 times, I stood in the back by the wall; safely away from the pushing, the beer spilling, the bruises and the sweat.
Booze. I used to drink a lot of it at shows which probably explains why I was up front being smashed with not a care in the world. Now," I'll have a water with no ice please. It's hot in there and I'd hate to get dehydrated."
Footwear. I used to wear chucks or flats because when you are actually in the crowd people step on your feet and spill on your feet and I would hate to ruin my heels. Now I wear the heels and I must say, they come in handy if you are standing in the back and still want to see your husband up front dancing and NOT being old.
I also imagined myself using them as a weapon to hit the asshole that makes everything worse over the head if he pushed me even ONE. MORE. TIME.
Although I am ranting about shows, there is something about going to a show that makes me forget about the sweat, the beer spills, and shoving and makes me feel so good inside, so alive. And so I will continue to go and stand in the back and roll my eyes at the asshole and smile at Ryan dancing and get a ring in my ear and smile as I fall into bed, preemptive asprin in hand.
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