So tonight I went to a concert at The Showbox here in Seattle. This place opened up in the 1930s so jazz club, swing club, going out for dinner and dancing in the 40s, watching Pearl Jam and Nirvana in the 90s, it was all here. I went with my roomie MaReesa (see picture) to see her favorite band Carbon Leaf. I'm not much of a concert goer (you may remember the Hot Buttered Rum with Flu debacle of March. Flu was not part of the band but was suffocating my lungs) but I try to act my age. When I got there, I remembered why I don't go to concerts. I felt like the 60-year-olds in the opera line that wanted chairs. I realized that I'd be standing next to smellie smells and pushie pushers for five hours. It was an all-ages show so there were 50-somethings who commented "what's with all these kids here?". I didn't know if they were referring to me or to the actual kids, i.e., the seven-year-olds in the crowd (who are their parents?). Anyway, the show was fantastic but I had to get out of the mix since a flabby woman behind me kept invading my space. I normally wouldn't comment on people's fluffiness but I knew she was fluffy because I could feel it. Yes folks, her method to getting closer to the band was not pushing past people but by pushing through them. After ten minutes of bump, bump, push, press, grabbing my shoulder, and elbows in my kidney, I decided to let them pass. Then the husband started elbowing me from in front of me. My mind flashed forward to "wow, I'm going to get thrown out of a bar. I'm going to push this guy. He's going to turn around and swing at me (I'll of course dodge magnificently) and then it all goes crazy." After grad school, there just needed to be a trigger to ignite. I opted to retreat to the back of the club by the stairs. It was hilarious but I actually did really enjoy the band. Try YouTubing "The War Was in Color" or "Life Less Ordinary". The second features an old farmer picking up a tumbleweed as a hitchhiker. Literally. The tumbleweed tumbles up to his dusty old truck and he opens the passenger door and the tumbleweed hops up and in. I'm listening to the first song right now and I may have teared up last week while listening to it.
Friday, June 19, 2009
Am I too old for this or am I too young?
So tonight I went to a concert at The Showbox here in Seattle. This place opened up in the 1930s so jazz club, swing club, going out for dinner and dancing in the 40s, watching Pearl Jam and Nirvana in the 90s, it was all here. I went with my roomie MaReesa (see picture) to see her favorite band Carbon Leaf. I'm not much of a concert goer (you may remember the Hot Buttered Rum with Flu debacle of March. Flu was not part of the band but was suffocating my lungs) but I try to act my age. When I got there, I remembered why I don't go to concerts. I felt like the 60-year-olds in the opera line that wanted chairs. I realized that I'd be standing next to smellie smells and pushie pushers for five hours. It was an all-ages show so there were 50-somethings who commented "what's with all these kids here?". I didn't know if they were referring to me or to the actual kids, i.e., the seven-year-olds in the crowd (who are their parents?). Anyway, the show was fantastic but I had to get out of the mix since a flabby woman behind me kept invading my space. I normally wouldn't comment on people's fluffiness but I knew she was fluffy because I could feel it. Yes folks, her method to getting closer to the band was not pushing past people but by pushing through them. After ten minutes of bump, bump, push, press, grabbing my shoulder, and elbows in my kidney, I decided to let them pass. Then the husband started elbowing me from in front of me. My mind flashed forward to "wow, I'm going to get thrown out of a bar. I'm going to push this guy. He's going to turn around and swing at me (I'll of course dodge magnificently) and then it all goes crazy." After grad school, there just needed to be a trigger to ignite. I opted to retreat to the back of the club by the stairs. It was hilarious but I actually did really enjoy the band. Try YouTubing "The War Was in Color" or "Life Less Ordinary". The second features an old farmer picking up a tumbleweed as a hitchhiker. Literally. The tumbleweed tumbles up to his dusty old truck and he opens the passenger door and the tumbleweed hops up and in. I'm listening to the first song right now and I may have teared up last week while listening to it.
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