- the horror of public toilets after about fifteen minutes of a megafestival.
- the terror of the festival-style outfits.
And then I come to grips with the fact that (a) this will never happen in a million years, that (b) I might never have enjoyed this experience, truthfully, not even in my youth, and (c) ....
Well, you go ahead and say it. (the 'O' word.)
But I don't typically like to spend more than about a half a minute going down this line of thinking. As one of my good and wise friends once said to me when I was courting this trope--all the time, saying stuff like well, now that I'm middle-aged--'I just don't see where that's taking you.' And she was right. I'm as old as I am, okay? But that doesn't particularly mean anything, especially re rock-chick daydreams. I saw the shows I saw, okay? And the fact that I don't want to visit a toilet that has seen festival-level usage--well, that's not an old/young thing, it's more a 'never gonna happen, not if I can help it' kind of a thing.
Be this as may be: I went with several children and a wee grandchild to see Death Cab for Cutie at the Twilight Concert Series tonight at Pioneer Park. We missed all but the last song of the tUnE-yArDs set, sad to say, but we heard all of the Death Cab set, and it was great, right down to the last Kenny Loggins cover. (Just kidding--'Highway to the Danger Zone' was the music the producers saw fit to usher us out to.)
We found a patch of grass and sat on it, the baby looking up at and enjoying the sky.
Observing the festival-style outfits, my daughter noted that it looked like a free people catalog. Yep. Hipster heaven.
But in the end, we went home and would sleep in our own beds, just one concert and no squalor worth mentioning.
|Daughter & Naomi--her first concert!|
|Dr. Write and I admire Naomi (thanks, Jane D., for this and the above|
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