Wednesday, July 29, 2009

Floor Seats? For this?


I have never been a big concert go-er. Generally speaking, I have to really LOVE a band in order to withstand the mass of humanity that you have to deal with at a concert. Case in point, the AC/DC show that I took my son to last November – we schlepped into the city on a work night (?!) to see the show at Madison Square Garden and it was great. Well worth the inconvenience and trouble and the (almost) fist fight that I started with the dude in front of me who was blowing pot smoke in my 12 year old son’s face (a post unto itself). Mess with my kids and I will cut a bitch or de-ball a middle aged a-hole smoking skunk weed.

Part of my issue with concerts is my own lousy attitude. I have never been able to get into mob mentality or group-think, so I don’t do the wave, I don’t sway my Bic lighter to and fro or (in the event of a Grateful Dead show) I don’t twirl. I know that this makes me sound all curmudgeonly and cranky, but I have never been a joiner. I’m not a woooooo girl and I refuse to “put my hands together” for anyone unless it’s my idea. I guess the rebel in me won't take orders from anyone, not even from a rock star.

So when my husband gave me the news that he scored floor seats for the Miley Cyrus concert in this coming November, I knew that it would be my fat fanny on the folders at the Nassau Coliseum and not his as he had already sat through one of these with my daughter before. And as he sat through a double bill of Miley and the Jonas Brothers I figured that I owed him the future chaperone of at least two shows. Damn!

As you may or may not know, I am no spring chicken. I have walked this green earth for 45 years and in all those years, I have selectively gone to maybe ten concerts. NEVER in those ten concerts have I ever gotten even REMOTELY close to the floor. When I was sixteen, I would have sold my grandmother for floor seats to see The Cars. I know that you are shaking your head in total confusion over that last sentence. Hell, I don’t understand it myself. So this is what I get floor seats for?

Yup, I have eighteenth row seats to see Miley Cyrus. They’re the best seats I never wanted. And the prospect of being at the epicenter of tween madness sounds extremely dangerous to me. I could lose my hearing amongst the shrill screams of preteen girls. I could suffocate from the stench of overly-applied body splash. Who knows, I might even get whacked in the eye by a rogue clump of hair covered in hair glitter and suffer a scratched cornea. I guess I’d better dress for the event. I’m thinking full body armor. Maybe under the anonymity of chain mail and stainless steel, I could manage a “woooooo”, but I doubt it.

11 Your comments, banter and witty repartee:

Amy said...

AHHHHHHHH...MILEY!! My worst fear (next to getting buried alive) is having to endure the haneous voice of that chick!
I hope your daughter knows how much you love her!

DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom said...

Well, having my daughter appreciate the effort would be nice. But in her manic fandom, she thinks she's doing me a favor. Delusional? Party of one.

linlah said...

Oh yes, the best seats I never wanted and maybe a gas mask with the body armor is in order too.

DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom said...

Where do they get that horrible cologne? They all smell like grapes and not in a sophisticated Pinot Noir kind of way. I've got it! It's grape flavored Charms lollipops. They all smell like grape lollipops!

Aunt Becky said...

Some crazy preteen is going to off you with her eyeliner to get your seats.

DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom said...

I might not cut a pre-teen, but I am fully prepared to use mace.

MamaMags said...

I think we were twins separated at birth! Seriously, I think EXACTLY like you do......ummm...except for the fact that I am about 10 years older, but I can definitely relate to the concert mentality. OK, so the twin thing doesn't really work, but you gotta give me points for trying right? Plus, what an honor- you commented on my poor pathetic blog!! whoooo....

DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom said...

So you're a wooooo girl?

Nothing pathetic about your blog except the state of your leg. That looks danged painful and sure to morph from red and angry to a bruisy kaleidoscope of colors. Might be fun to document in pictures.

KimberLeigh said...

What? It sounds like fun. Ok, it sounds like torture.

DG at Diary of a Mad Bathroom said...

It is apparently something that one must experience to thoroughly understand. But trust me, once I have gone, I will make you read about it until you want to pull all of the hairs out of your Hannah Montannah wig, one by one.

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