I Told Y'all I Was Down

I took my son to his first rock concert last week, as we had bought him tickets for Christmas.  I knew that the tickets were for him, but in reality I really, really did want to go.  It had been so many years since I'd been to a concert that I can not for the life of me remember which one it was, and I actually do really like the band that we went to see.  We go to outdoor music festivals a lot in the summer with our kids, but they're more the kind of thing where you'd see people wearing either tie-dye, mullets, or both.  This was going to be mayjah.

Several things have changed since I last went to one of these shindigs, though.  Well, this concert was geared mainly towards teenage girls and tweens with parents in tow.  When I was a teenager I was more used to the types of venues where they frisk you on the way in for illicit firearms, shanks, drugs and/or alcohol.  They did check my handbag, for which I apologised, mom-like, for it being so messy. 

Some things have not changed.  Teenage girls scream really farking loudly.  They don't wear very many clothes.  They will cut a bitch for the opportunity to rub up on the lead singer when he comes near the crowd.  They almost always dance, and know all the words to all of the songs.  Some of them sweat profusely and smell like armpits when they wave their hands over their heads.  You will leave a concert thinking you've caught the plague from all of the sweaty germs and your ears will buzz for a week.  Or is that just me?

We had floor seats, which I thought would be good because we were fairly close to the stage, but it's not good if you're nine and the teenager in front of you is 6'2".  Note to self:  When buying concert tickets for short people, no floor seats.  I didn't mind Tall Stuff being in front of him so much, because every time a beach ball or a bottle of water (we'll get to this later) hurled towards my baby's face, Tall Stuff would inadvertently act as a cloaking shield for him.  He did take short shifts standing on his chair to see better, because the teenager behind him told him that she didn't mind.  So yes, some teenagers are really nice.  There is hope for the world after all.

Remember how people would wave their lighters around during slow songs?  Well nowadays they tell the kids to take out their cell phones and digital cameras to wave those around.  That, and instead of saying, "Buy our album", they say, "Go home and download our album, burn it from a friend or pirate that mofo because as long as you're listening to our music we're happy".  I'm sure their bank accounts are quite happy, also.

The entire time, I kept thinking back to when I used to attend a lot of concerts when I was a teenager.  How I used to love boys in bands.  Punk bands, mostly.  Remember how your parents would be horrified if you brought home a boy with baggy pants and an earring?  I can just imagine how horrified my father would have been had I brought home boys with flat-ironed hair, skinny jeans and eyeliner.  Jeesh!

Not to mention how the three opening acts had songs about throwing your hands in the air, and waving them as if you just don't care.  Years!  Years, we've been listening to different variations of throwing your hands in the air and waving them like you just don't care.  Is it possible that this phenomena is not entirely played out by now?  Could it have been cool to raise your hands in the air and wave them like you just don't care throughout the eighties, nineties, and today?  Classic, yes; but how great is their sense of entitlement to think that they have the ability to improve on such a classic?  Ah, youth.

I did feel like getting all Mom on their asses, though.  Every time a band member would finish with a guitar pick or drumstick, they'd toss them into the audience.  They'd take a sip out of a water bottle, and toss those into the audience, too.  One sip!  Would it kill them to reduce, reuse, recycle?!!  I swore to myself that if a water bottle was hurling toward my son's head and Tall Stuff didn't end up taking it in the head first, then I was going to sue their asses!  As for us, we paid six bucks for a bottle of water that they then poured into a giant paper cup.  Bottles are life threatening, apparently.  Not to be used without supervision.  If I'd known they were going to give me a paper cup regardless, I would have rode their asses and told them to give me tap.  Mama recycles, yo.  *throws up gang signs*

See how hip I am?  Mama is down.  Recognize.

That's all,

Twills

XOXO

Part Two, which will come to you later:  How I accidentally found myself wanting to rip the clothes off of the incredibly young lead singer and ravage him like a cougar and the only thing that stopped me was The Child.