Well, today’s post was supposed to be about my beautiful, bounteous tomato plants that aren’t producing the bounty they look like they should be (and I’m a little worried that they aren’t going to produce anything at all), but instead it’s about a concert I went to last night.
My friend called me right as I was leaving work yesterday to tell me she had free tickets (along with free VIP-section tickets and free drink tickets) to the Steve Miller Band concert in town last night. Not one to pass up a good time, I agreed to go, and we had an absolute blast. I have to say that the VIP section is the way to go, because we got there late and still managed to get great seats. The music was great; Steve Miller and his guys put on a great show; but the people watching? Was better than the music.
First there was the woman who was way too old to be wearing something that my 19-year-old sister would no longer wear. She also had a rhinestone heart with the word “love” in script hanging from her belt, purple-ish hair, and a smoker’s voice, which she was using to shout at her friend “Bah-bay!” (I think that's her form of "Bobby") from the deck where we were sitting. It’s impossible to convey in words what this sounded like, but it was hilarious. It was all these prim and proper people with their kids eating dinner, and this one woman sporadically and hoarsely calling out “Bah-bay” to her friend who was in a boat about 50 feet off the deck. From her repeated failed attempts to get his attention, I’m guessing he didn’t want to talk to her, because she was yelling for a while before he responded, and there was no way he couldn’t have heard her yelling. Seriously.
Then there was bikini lady, who should not have been wearing a bikini. Now, before you think I’m mean in judging this woman’s body, I will preface this by saying that I have, what I consider to be, a better body than she did, and I don’t wear bikinis. Tankinis, maybe, but I definitely am too shy to wear a bikini. Anyway, she paired her barely-there bikini top with too-tight shorts, producing an impressive muffin top. Oh, and she was loaded, so she was swaying and dancing and falling into people all night long. It was also only about 65 degrees out when we left, and we weren’t on a beach, just along a polluted river that no one swims in, so there was really no reason to be wearing a bikini. Just sayin’.
And finally (because if I describe everyone that amused me throughout the night, this would be an incredibly long post) there was not just one, but two over-enthusiastic dancers standing in front of me. Both were pretty wasted (one definitely drunk, and the other I think was very high) and both put on quite the show.
The first lady (the high one) did an impressive rendition of a one-woman hoe-down during “Dance, dance, dance” She was having a knee-slapping good time, interspersed with her reaching up as high as she could to make the “rock” symbol with her hand. There was a very prim and proper middle-aged woman sitting next to where this woman was dancing, and I thought she was going to die from shock, watching this woman dance. It was definitely a spectacle.
The second over-enthusiastic dancer was with three other very drunk women, but she was by far the drunkest of the bunch. She was grinding away to the music, rubbing her chest, and periodically falling over. I think she may have been an un-talented stripper in a past life, because, although she had some decidedly stripper-ish moves, she wasn’t impressing anyone. She was, however, grabbing the attention of those around her. It was quite the show.
All in all we had a great time, and I was glad my friend called me to go to the concert with her. We always manage to have a great time at concerts, be it Steve Miller Band, the *ahem* Bryan Adams/Def Leppard
Concert of last year, or even an 80s hair-metal cover band that had me sing the refrain to “Talk Dirty to Me”. Yeah, there’s definitely more to some of these concerts than I should admit.