Tuesday, July 19, 2016

I'm an Elderly Person Trapped Inside a Slightly Younger Person's Body

So it shouldn’t come as a surprise to anyone that I’m an elderly person living in a 30-something-year-old’s body, and it certainly is no surprise to CB. Which is probably the not-so-secret reason why we don’t go out more frequently. Well that, and the fact that we have a little one-year-old terrorist holding us hostage who inexplicably keeps calling us mama and dada (well, actually, she calls us both mama, which I encourage. It’ll come in handy later when she calls out for “mama” and I look at CB and can say “she’s clearly calling for you.”) But I digress.

In recent weeks, we’ve taken advantage of the free babysitting we have at our disposal – grandparents and friends who find her use of the word “no” to be charming and don’t mind free pizza as payment. Plus, we realized that we should probably cash in on all of this accessible help while it’s still on the table – because once Baby Girl #2 comes along in January, they might not be totally on board with these two little ones under the age of two who sometimes poop in the tub.

So we’ve been hitting the town and, this weekend, we outdid ourselves by helping Coldplay kick off their North American tour. But it’s been a while since I’ve gone to a show of any kind, let alone a huge arena tour – mainly because I’m too cheap to spend money on a band that sounds better in the studio. And also because, as previously established, I’m incredibly lame and old and go to bed at 8:30pm.

However, we both knew that Coldplay would be worth every penny since they have a reputation for putting on an incredible live show. Plus, Chris Martin is kinda dreamy and British, and I’ll pay lots of money to sit in a room full of hundreds of thousands of people in case he picks me out of the crowd to be Apple’s step-mom. It’s money well spent.

Anyway, all was going swimmingly until the opening act came on stage. Read: basically, it was all good until the actual music started.

There are several layers to peel back from this onion, you guys, so let’s just start squarely at the beginning. For starters, CB had told me that the opening act was going to be someone I’d never heard of named Alessia Cara who sings a song called “Here” that I’ve also never heard of. Though CB insisted that I must’ve heard of it and started singing: “Woooooah here. Wooooah here.” Thinking that this would definitely clarify anything at all for me.

So when the screen flashed the words “Foxes” and some young woman started singing with her backup band, I assumed that Foxes was code for something and that this was Alessia Cara.

Me, immediately: “Oh my god why is it so loud?”
CB, shaking his head: “Um, you’re at a concert grandma.”


Me: “But for real, this doesn’t seem too loud to you?”
CB: “No, it’s a concert.”

Silence. After a few songs:

Me: “This is the Woah Here girl? I haven’t heard that song yet, right?”
CB: “Um, this is Foxes. This isn’t Alessia Cara.”
Me: “Wait, but I thought Alessia Cara was the opening act?”
CB: “I thought she was too, I guess not.”


Me: “There are a lot of people in crop tops here tonight. Who would’ve thought that trend was coming back?”


Me: “Doesn’t it seem unnecessary that they’re flashing lights from the stage when it’s still bright outside? Seems like an unnecessary use of lighting.”


Me: “Am I the oldest person you’ve ever attended a concert with?”
CB, laughing: “Well, technically no. Jarred’s dad has come with us to shows, and he’s older than you. But in practice, you’re the oldest person by far I’ve ever taken to a concert.”

Anyway, Foxes eventually left the stage and so I got amped up for Coldplay. So when Alessia Cara came onto the stage, I looked at CB:

Me: “Wait, there are two opening acts?”
CB: “I guess so.”
Me: “Is that normal? I haven’t been to a concert in a while.”
CB: “No kidding.”

So then she sang. As each song came on, I’d say:

Me: “Is this ‘Woah Here’?”
CB: “It’s just called ‘Here.’”
Me: “Is this it?”
CB: “No.”

Until finally it was.

Eventually, she stopped singing too, and by this point, it was 8:45pm. When Coldplay came on at 9:15, I’d had my head rested on CB’s shoulder for a good 5 minutes.

CB: “Wow, it’s an hour past your bedtime and they’re just starting!”
Me: “I know. This is why I saved my caffeine intake today for right now so I had a shot at making it through the whole concert, but then they had two opening acts so all bets are off.”

But, of course, as soon as Mr. Martin and the band took the stage, I was wide awake. It was sort of hard not to be – it was the best show I’ve ever seen. Seriously. You don’t even need to be a fan of their music to be impressed with a group who plays two hours straight, is running all over the stage, basically has the entire crowd dancing and jumping the whole time (not me, no jumping. I only had one Diet Coke and didn't want to induce early labor), and played six songs during their encore!

It was amazing. And we got home at 12:45am, though I don’t remember actually getting into bed or changing into pjs or even sleeping. I just remember hearing our daughter wake up at 5:45am and pretending that it wasn’t real, like any responsible parent would do.

Anyway, this is from the show we were at and you’ll see why I stayed up way past my bedtime. And also why CB is fine with me trying to marry Chris Martin when he finally watches footage from this show and realizes I’m out there in the audience somewhere, fighting off a nap while singing along.