What I wasn’t thinking was how to explain the zonked out woman the ambulance was taking away.
Ah, it’s clearly sunstroke, I said. Way too hot out here.
Or...ooh, ooh that smell, the smell that surrounds us.
Patchouli Oil, I said. All these tye dyers wear it.
But isn’t it coming from those funny-looking cigarettes being passed around? Teen asked.
Cloves, I replied. All these Rastas smoke them.
Yes, I know, I need to have the drug talk with Teen soon.
BUT I WASN'T GOING TO EXPLAIN IT WHILE WE BOTH WE'RE UNDER A CONTACT HIGH.
And then there was this drunk-out-of-his mind dude:
He’s obviously ‘special’, I said.
In fact, it seemed all the folks there were 'special" as evidenced by their use of these porta-potties:
They were the first ever I’d seen full to the rim and over-flown, with drunk high hippie-rasta folks continuing to use them without a care in the world.
I hadn’t seen so many wasted people since a Russian-Polish wedding.
OK. OK. It was an Irish wake.
Still…$95.00 bucks a ticket and you’re passed out before the main acts.
OK. OK. The slam dancers were definitely not passed out.
I mean, it’s not that Teen hasn’t been to concerts before.
I believe in raising a kid right.
Meaning he’s got to know that Neil Young is great and that Neil Diamond sucks.
That Pink Floyd is great and that Pink sucks.
That John Lennon is great and that John Mayer, is well, mediocre.
Yes, teen has seen Neil Young, Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, and against his classic rock will, Black 47 and Wilco.
The difference between those events and this one is --that the folks at the former venues were actually there to hear the music!!
At any rate, Teen and I were there to hear Wilco again.
OK. OK. Teen did want to sneak over to the other stage to catch Chuck Berry. But like I said, I believe in raising a kid right. He would not be Wilcoless.
So we ‘excuse me’, ‘excuse us’, ‘be careful your cigarette is burning my arm-ed’ our way to the front of the crowd.
We were not disappointed.
Wilco was Wilcoful.
And after, Teen was excited to see Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters.
But Teen knows that Dave Matthews is great and Dave Grohl is, well...
OK. OK. they’re both ah...all right. Grohl can drop the F-bomb, spit into the audience and whirl his hair around with the best of them.
All in all, despite the hopped up people, the herbs, the overflowing porta-potties, and this Jägermeister dude:
It was a good time. A mom and son bonding time.
And speaking of bonding...
I’d like to thank Restless Housewife Rambling for this most excellent award.
I am honored and therefore will bestow (I always wanted to use that word) to the following:
1) Jen at Daily Mish Mash, my sista in stalking.
2) Suzie at Up The Hill Backwards, my sista in education.
3) Unfinished Dude at Unfinished Rambling(s) who next to his Wife , his Sister, and Diesel, Brent, Damon, Lobo and all my female friends is my favorite blogger.
Seriously, for a Catholic, the guy blogs funny. He doesn’t drop the F-bomb or make fun of people like a lot of other Humor-Bloggers.
OK. OK. He doesn’t drop the F-bomb anyway.
And Neil Diamond fans, no hate mail please. Been there. Done that.
OK. OK. It was those gunsling Charlton Heston fans. But still….
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