The Big Night Out
2004-09-30, 10:16 a.m.

So, The Concert.

The evening began with finally meeting Work Buddy. In a word, aDORable. And single. Ladies? Consider this your Prize Patrol notification.

We ate at a 19th-century-saloon-turned-restaurant in the Old City (cool funky jazzy retro goth punky old section of town), where I got a salad with enough blue crab meat to feed most everyone at the concert. We left there and headed for the concert venue a few doors away about 8:30. The first opening band had not started.

There were 2 opening bands that weren�t bad at all. The first was more hard rock, and the second did covers of The Who and the Stones. They also reminded me a little of the Black Crows. The lead singer got off the stage and walked through the crowd doing a couple of numbers. They did a good job working up the ever-growing throng.

The concert-goers were as much fun to watch as the opening bands. Such diversity! There were college kids side-by-tatooed-and-pierced-side with grandparents. A couple of guys had matching blue shirts and matching red fez. One guy looked VERY much like Billy Idol. My favorite, though, hands-down, was Dad. This guy was most definitely Dad. He had on his dadly lawn-mowing baseball cap, his rectangular dad glasses, his tie-dye Rolling Stones see-I�m-really-cool concert t-shirt, his dadly denim Bermuda shorts. All that was fine until you looked down and saw the white athletic socks pulled tight mid-calf with the basic brown shoes. You just knew he would be a feature on Account Executives Gone Wild, and that back home he had a teenager PRAYING DESPERATELY that none of her friends saw him.

Hubby was our designated driver for once IN NEARLY 20 FREAKING YEARS, so I ordered a Lynchburg Lemonade. And another. And another. I asked Hubby if those things even CONTAINED alcohol, I got as much effect from tap water. He looked at me funny. Seems they (supposedly) contain a fair quantity of Jack Daniel�s. So I hardly ever drink, and already I�m a lush. Great. I had 3 more over the course of the evening. And yes, I awoke the next morning feeling fantastic, thankyouverymuch. I don�t get hangovers.

The Cramps came on around 11pm and really cranked it up! Lux Interior wore black leather hot pants, studded belt, and black marilyn-collar shirt, and Poison Ivy wore a white nurse�s �uniform� cut to there. Lux was outrageous, playing up the crowd, while Ivy played a mean guitar behind him. The crowd was going nuts, dancing and thrashing and yelling and being VERY well-behaved otherwise. One girl did the mosh-pit surf, in a pathetically bad tumbleweed style, and ended up onstage for a few minutes. Naturally Lux played that up too before having her escorted off. They did a wide range of numbers and were totally awesome. Nothing life-or-death-oh-my-God-I-gotta-see-them, no swooning tweenage wannabees, no hero worship�just plain FUN, like a concert should be. It was over way too soon.

When they left the stage, I scooted outside to their tour bus. There were about 5 guys there for autographs, including Dad (with the ancient artifact known as a VINYL LP). The guards said they didn�t know if they would be signing autographs. The others just stood there, so I quickly told the guard a little bit about bonnylisbon and could they please autograph my CD sleeve for her. He got on the bus and talked. After a minute Lux and Ivy came out to get in the car for the hotel. I touched Lux on the arm and asked him quickly again about the autograph. He put his hand on my arm while mine was on his, took the CD sleeve and got a pen from the guard while they got in the car. He and Ivy signed and passed it back to the guard who gave it to me while their car sped away. So yes, bonnylisbon has their autograph, the only one, and LUX TOUCHED MY ARM. I sooo rule. BAHAHAHAHAHA

Yesterday morning I was still able to pop up cheerfully and wedge a groaning Hubby out of the door to work. We both moved more slowly each passing hour. By 6:30pm I was in bed, with Hubby hot on my heels. I got up at quarter to 9 to eat a little dinner and make sure the kidlets were showered and jammied and in their rightful places, then it was back to bed.

Note to self: You are NOT, repeat, NOT, 18 anymore. You require sleep in mass quantities. Take heed. And now, go take some Mo*trin. Thy body acheth, party girl.

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