This is no ordinary concert pic taken with a smartphone.
This, my friends, is a symbol of my lost youth. The loss of hip. Coolness has left the building. I am no longer bringing sexy back. Metamucil is my new BFF.
So. Yes, I am a 40 year old chubby Caucasian. I also love me some R&B. Rap, Hip Hop, these are MY JAMS. Sky King just closes his eyes and does a slight head-shake that to me says, "Man, my wife is badass, and I'm lucky to married to such a hot thug-ette." Or something.
So, when Justin Timberlake and Jay-Z announced their Legends of Summer Stadium Tour, I was like, OMG! Who's in?
Sky King did me a solid by getting in on the pre-sell, and even got some decent seats. And, offered to go with. THAT is the part that showed me how much he loved me.
We decided to make a weekend of it.
I had to find something appropriate for the occasion. This brings Princess into the mix. Princess who thinks her Momma is younger, thinner and richer than she really is. She dragged me into Buckle, a store that seems to cater to young country and sparkle-loving people. But, the sparkles is what drew her (and, let's face it, me) in. I was looking for shiny and slightly slutty. Princess was looking for rock-star-chic.
We found a sales person to assist, and we ended up with a pretty wrap top that had some sheer parts, and some sparkly parts. It was significantly low cut, so I knew Sky King would approve. Top it all with jeans, boots, and a new 'do, and I was ready to
On the night of, SK made it clear that, the second I was too tired, we could head back to the hotel. Such an accommodating one, he is. Not to mention, he didn't know a single Jay-Z song, and a scarce few JT songs. Add in some bad hearing, and stadium acoustics that could drown out the collective grumblings of the worlds' hipsters when faced with nothing but instant coffee (or is instant coffee now a "thing"?) and we have a recipe for Middle Age Disaster.
Let's just start with, you know this is not your crowd when your hubs gives up his coveted Muni seat to a drunk chick that may or may not vomit into some dude's hoodie before we reach our stop. Using a knee to keep her from sliding into a pool of floppy human, while chivalrous, is a true sign these Are Not Our People. Her "friend" that was likely assigned to the Drunk Girl really didn't take her job seriously. ("hey, babysit me tonight, because you KNOW how I get after seven redbull-and-vodkas and nine bong-hits, mkay?", "OMG, we are TOTES gunna have the bestest time EVER", "LOL", "I know, right?") Likely, this is the convo they had the next morning:
Drunk Girl: Hey. how did we get home?
Loser Friend: I totally got us on the bus, and this cute little old couple gave you their seat, and I kept making sure you stayed hydrated. They were super-rad, but I have no idea why they were on the shuttle from Jay-Z. Maybe some old guy like Barry Manilow was in town...
Drunk Girl: You're the BEST. Totes the BEST. And, my wallet, phone and keys are still here! You, like, ROCK.
Loser Friend: I know, right?!?!?! Let's go to Denny's--don't forget the flask of vodka....
Ah, to be young again.
So there we are, Sky King pretending he can hear, understand and identify rap lyrics (Holy Grail, OMFG, amiright???). Me, pulsing with the crowd, hoping that Candlestick isn't due for an earthquake because I really do NOT want to die like this.
When the FUCK did it become a THING to stand the entire concert? Don't these bitches get tired? I see them in their $20 stilettos and I KNOW that shit is rough on the feet.
So, I would stand up, do my best Hip Hop Sway and Pulse, while taking breaks to sit amongst the people that can manage to engage in complicated dance routines in a 2 foot square space.
A few songs before we thought it would be over, we made a break for it, hoping that we would not stand for fifteen hours waiting for a bus to get through the streets of SF. Yes, I am now that person. "Hey kids, I know this is the best part of the drive-in movie, but if we leave RIGHT NOW, we can miss the traffic, which is EVEN MORE FUN than Iron Man 15!!!!" If you have ever been to Candlestick, you know that there is truly only one way in or out of the area, and it causes a traffic jam that even the best cabbies avoid like a case of burning gonorrhea.
So we find ourselves on a bus, IN SEATS (Woot!) headed for the hotel.
On that ride, I had time to ruminate on the situation.
1. The concert was fun, especially since I had vowed to not consume any liquids to avoid any bathroom lines (why can't venues recognize that women need approximately 45 times more bathrooms?)
2. The acoustics SUCKED (or maybe my old ears heard it wrong?)
3. Despite the VAST numbers of Middle-Aged White Folks that also love Jay-Z, this is not my tribe.
These people are hip. They stay up past 9:15, even on work nights. They enjoy crowds of sweaty drunks (because they are ALSO sweaty drunks) and they don't mind standing in line to use a bathroom, only to recognize they broke the seal, to then get in line for beer, to then stand in line to pee, lather-rinse-repeat.
These people are not like me.
I get back to the hotel, sleep til 10:45, stagger on pained feet to the nearest place to shovel food in my face, tour the City with my beloved, then hit the sheets at 7:15
Lyme Disease took my groove.