So Old...and yet still So Young....

Most of the time, I don't feel old. I think I have a pretty youthful outlook, and thanks to a renewed commitment to a healthier lifestyle, I feel much the same physically as I did at 25. It seems to me that my parents were much older at my age, than I am, but that was probably just the childish perspective from which I observed their dottering ways.

*I* listen to current music. *I* try to stay on top of fashion, cultural and media trends. *I* keep up with technology, though to be fair, this is mostly due to my techie husband and his affinity for gadgetry of various and sundry sorts.

But it's all an illusion really. And tonight, it was demonstrated very clearly that I no longer possess the capacity for the excitement of idol worship or the thirst for adventure to a sufficient degree to keep the expectations of a more cosmopolitan and discerning existence at bay.

How? You may ask.

Well, tonight I took my twelve year old son and two of his friends to their first concert.

And though I like the band, and I still enjoy a good concert, I found, once we neared the venue, that what I felt in abundance was....irritation.

I was irritated that the parking lot and venue access were not more clearly marked.

I was irritated that there were absolutely NO eating establishements convenient to the venue.

I was irritated that this would force me to pay exorbitant prices for crappy food and watered down drinks.

I was irritated that they made me remove the caps from the two bottles of water I had in the commodious purse I carried for just that purpose.

I was irritated that the $8.00 Margarita I bought tasted like lime Kool-Aid. Not good Kool-either. That kind we used to get when we were kids that came in a plastic barrell and had a tin foil top.

I was irritated that our seats were smack dab in the middle of the row, so that any time one of us needed to exit, we had to step over a kajillion people to do so.

I was irritated that the girl in front of us, who wore a white halter top with no bra and sported angel wings tattooed upon her shoulder blades, felt it incumbent upon herself to entertain us with her version of dirty dancing. For three hours. Hips don't lie, especially when they are clad in skin tight low, low, low rise denim.

I was irritated that there were FOUR opening acts.

I was irritated that one of them was a rap artist.

I was irritated that it was hot.

I was irritated that my butt was sweating.

I was irritated that I was irritated.

But the band finally took the stage and I was caught up in the wave of excitement that swept through the amphitheater. There is something about the energy in a crowd of concert goers...it's contagious, kinetic, palpable. I felt the years and the irritation melt away as my feet began to move, my hips began to sway. I lost myself in the music.

Suddenly, I was young again.

But not as young as the woman two rows in front of us, who had to have been 20 years older than me, but whom, bless her energetic little heart, pogo'd up and down like a maniacal terrier.

The band, Fall Out Boy, put on a REALLY good show. I had heard that their concerts tended to be a little amateurish, a little splapdash, and unusually short. None of that was true. Say or think what you will of Fall Out Boy, (one commenter to my original post expressed the opinion that Fall Out Boy are, collectivley, "tools") but unlike some bands, they actually play their own instruments, and play them extremely well.

Pete is the one who gets all the attention (Yeah, he's cute. Yeah, if I was twelve, I'd think he was totally hot) and he is an amazingly accomplished bass player, but the drummer was the one who really impressed me. I don't think I've been that impressed by a drummer since the Def Leppard "In the Round" tour in....89? when Rick Allen made his come back.

They were good showmen and the special effects were suitably over the top for a band of this particular genre. There were lots of pyrotechnics, interesting video embellishments, and the band engaged the audience frequently.

After the show, I asked my son if it was worth the wait. He was flushed with heat and excitement, and sporting a huge metallic grin. He answered immediately, and emphatically,

"Mom...that was totally BEAST!!" (beast is the new "tight" Tight was the new "awesome". Don't question it. There is no answer.)

And that made it all worthwhile.

Did I have fun? Well, at my age, fun is a highly subjective concept.

But yes...I had fun experiencing a first concert through the eyes of a twelve year old. I had fun listening to the young girls next to me squeal and say "OH MAH GAAAAAAAAAAWD" every time Pete's face was shown on the enormous video screens erected on either side of the stage. I had fun feeling like I could still rock out, even if I wasn't quite as energetic or unabashed about it as I might have once been.

I had fun feeling hip and young and old and wise at the same time.

There will be a time when my kid, sweet as he is, will not want to be seen within 100 feet of me. So I had fun being with him, and basking in his appreciation.

But damn it was good to get home.

I said in my original post that I was either the coolest Mom on the planet, or the stupidest woman on earth. I think it might be a little of both.