A Night With the 80s Band...
(Confidential to "the girls": I know what you're thinking, and no, of course this entry is not about that! :-))
Friday night was a very sane evening. I travelled the well-worn path down to my beloved Gustavus for a wonderful night of choral music, brass choirs, and the orchestra. The choirs all sang beautifully; I laughed, I reminisced, I felt that old familiar stirring of anticipation as the herald trumpeters rang out the first strains of "O Come, All Ye Faithful." I cried when the Gustavus choir got to my favorite part of "O Magnum Mysterium," and again when I thought about how much my Grandma loved this particular event. This is my real life.
Then, on Saturday night, I somehow stepped into an alternate reality. I found myself parked in spot N-44 in Garage A, armed and ready as I'd ever be to take my 13-year old cousin and his friend to the Guns N Roses concert at the Target center. I had spent a fair amount of time that day searching my closet for something, anything, that didn't scream, "This girl does not belong here! She can't even identify more than 3 songs by Guns N Roses!" (All of this, of course, is true, but I didn't feel a need to announce it to the entire arena.) At long last, I finally settled on a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt. I then realized that it was 10 degrees out and I couldn't possibly wear a pea coat, so I opted instead for the infamous "winter sweatshirt." It seemed to do the trick. We were a little bit late, and arrived just in time for me to realize in horror that the girls in the first opening "band" had forgotten to wear pants. Luckily for all of us, my cousin and his friend were distracted by the already-drunk people smoking marijuana in the row in front of us....
The second opening band came on, and to my relief, they appeared to be an actual band rather than a strip show. Sebastian Bach's main reason for fame, from what I was able to discern, was that he was able to twirl his long hair around his head whilst using his microphone as a lasso, all the while managing to remain inside of his tight leather pants. I have to say, I was a little bit fascinated by the whole thing. His music was metallic and deafening, but he knew how to work a crowd, and I actually found myself getting into it.
At around 10:30, the third opening band took the stage. I believe nearly everyone in the stands would agree with me that they were terrible. None of their songs ever changed chords, and these guys didn't even have long hair to watch! The crowd growing restless. This became especially evident when an honest-t0-goodness cat fight broke out behind us. I turned around just in time to see two girls with shirts cut down to their navels push each other down into the next row. Punches flew as their boyfriends decided that they, too, should be in on the action. My sensible cousin decided that would be an opportune moment to go out and get some pop. Thank goodness the security guards had shown up to regulate by the time we returned to our seats.
I had begun to seriously doubt whether Guns N Roses was actually planning on performing that evening, but finally, at 11:45 p.m., they took the stage. They put on a good show, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself through "Welcome to the Jungle," "Sweet Child of Mine," "Knockin' On Heaven's Door," and some amazing guitar solos. By 12:30, I was starting to get tired. By 1:00, I was sitting down in my chair trying not to notice as the guy in front of me stuck a syringe into his stomach. By 1:30, I may have actually cried a tear or two. "You guys, could we think about heading out?," I asked. My cousin turned to me with a serious look in his eyes and said, "Erinn, you can't just blow off Paradise City!!" Sadly, he was right, you can't. And so we stayed. At 2:15 a.m, as Axl and his buddies struck the final chord, I grabbed the two guys and took off at a veritable sprint for Garage A. The security guards were all laughing at us, but there was absolutely no way that I was going to be stuck in ramp traffic for yet another hour. It was a fabulous idea, and I was just about to pat myself on the back when I realized that we had sprinted all the way to----Garage B. I thought about maybe sitting down to cry, but instead we took off running in the opposite direction, and arrived directly at---Garage C! I asked everyone we passed if they might help us find the correct garage, but they only pointed us to the map hanging helplessly on the Skyway wall. "You don't understand, I can't read maps!!!" I said. Finally, we were rescued by a strapping young security officer who was able to verbally direct us to our parking spot. By this time, everyone and their likely-drunk brother was also in their car. I finally got into bed sometime around 3:30 am.
I kinda doubt that rock concerts will replace the MN orchestra in my concert attendance schedule, but you know what? It was totally worth it. I went because someday when my cousin is a rock star himself, I'll be able to smile and say, "You know, I took him to his first rock concert...." I'm hope he'll remember that night fondly, and I know I will too. Hearing damage and all.
Friday night was a very sane evening. I travelled the well-worn path down to my beloved Gustavus for a wonderful night of choral music, brass choirs, and the orchestra. The choirs all sang beautifully; I laughed, I reminisced, I felt that old familiar stirring of anticipation as the herald trumpeters rang out the first strains of "O Come, All Ye Faithful." I cried when the Gustavus choir got to my favorite part of "O Magnum Mysterium," and again when I thought about how much my Grandma loved this particular event. This is my real life.
Then, on Saturday night, I somehow stepped into an alternate reality. I found myself parked in spot N-44 in Garage A, armed and ready as I'd ever be to take my 13-year old cousin and his friend to the Guns N Roses concert at the Target center. I had spent a fair amount of time that day searching my closet for something, anything, that didn't scream, "This girl does not belong here! She can't even identify more than 3 songs by Guns N Roses!" (All of this, of course, is true, but I didn't feel a need to announce it to the entire arena.) At long last, I finally settled on a pair of jeans and a plain black T-shirt. I then realized that it was 10 degrees out and I couldn't possibly wear a pea coat, so I opted instead for the infamous "winter sweatshirt." It seemed to do the trick. We were a little bit late, and arrived just in time for me to realize in horror that the girls in the first opening "band" had forgotten to wear pants. Luckily for all of us, my cousin and his friend were distracted by the already-drunk people smoking marijuana in the row in front of us....
The second opening band came on, and to my relief, they appeared to be an actual band rather than a strip show. Sebastian Bach's main reason for fame, from what I was able to discern, was that he was able to twirl his long hair around his head whilst using his microphone as a lasso, all the while managing to remain inside of his tight leather pants. I have to say, I was a little bit fascinated by the whole thing. His music was metallic and deafening, but he knew how to work a crowd, and I actually found myself getting into it.
At around 10:30, the third opening band took the stage. I believe nearly everyone in the stands would agree with me that they were terrible. None of their songs ever changed chords, and these guys didn't even have long hair to watch! The crowd growing restless. This became especially evident when an honest-t0-goodness cat fight broke out behind us. I turned around just in time to see two girls with shirts cut down to their navels push each other down into the next row. Punches flew as their boyfriends decided that they, too, should be in on the action. My sensible cousin decided that would be an opportune moment to go out and get some pop. Thank goodness the security guards had shown up to regulate by the time we returned to our seats.
I had begun to seriously doubt whether Guns N Roses was actually planning on performing that evening, but finally, at 11:45 p.m., they took the stage. They put on a good show, and I thoroughly enjoyed myself through "Welcome to the Jungle," "Sweet Child of Mine," "Knockin' On Heaven's Door," and some amazing guitar solos. By 12:30, I was starting to get tired. By 1:00, I was sitting down in my chair trying not to notice as the guy in front of me stuck a syringe into his stomach. By 1:30, I may have actually cried a tear or two. "You guys, could we think about heading out?," I asked. My cousin turned to me with a serious look in his eyes and said, "Erinn, you can't just blow off Paradise City!!" Sadly, he was right, you can't. And so we stayed. At 2:15 a.m, as Axl and his buddies struck the final chord, I grabbed the two guys and took off at a veritable sprint for Garage A. The security guards were all laughing at us, but there was absolutely no way that I was going to be stuck in ramp traffic for yet another hour. It was a fabulous idea, and I was just about to pat myself on the back when I realized that we had sprinted all the way to----Garage B. I thought about maybe sitting down to cry, but instead we took off running in the opposite direction, and arrived directly at---Garage C! I asked everyone we passed if they might help us find the correct garage, but they only pointed us to the map hanging helplessly on the Skyway wall. "You don't understand, I can't read maps!!!" I said. Finally, we were rescued by a strapping young security officer who was able to verbally direct us to our parking spot. By this time, everyone and their likely-drunk brother was also in their car. I finally got into bed sometime around 3:30 am.
I kinda doubt that rock concerts will replace the MN orchestra in my concert attendance schedule, but you know what? It was totally worth it. I went because someday when my cousin is a rock star himself, I'll be able to smile and say, "You know, I took him to his first rock concert...." I'm hope he'll remember that night fondly, and I know I will too. Hearing damage and all.
posted by Erinn @ 8:37 AM
1 Comments:
At 7:45 PM,
Anonymous said…
I have to admit Erinn that I am really impressed with your ability to tell the story and keep me interested. I am now actually late for work, but I had to finish reading, even though you had told me in person the story of the rock concert. Kudos!!!
Maybe this blog thing isn't so bad :-)
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