I live in the suburbs of a major U.S. city. Major as in, I guarantee that every one of my readers has heard of it, knows which state it's in, can easily list three facts about it, and can find it on a map (unless you're geographically challenged, like me.) So, it was pretty exciting for my friend Holly when she learned that her brother's band was going to be playing in a reasonably well-known club in the city. She asked me to come to the show last night, and I agreed to join her to support her brother, who I went to high school with, even though I was pretty sure that his band didn't really play the type of music I like to listen to. As it turns out, the type of music they do play is the kind that sounds like this:
"ARRGGHHHHH BLAAAHHHHH RARGHHHH GRRRRR" (Mosh pit, mosh pit, mosh pit, some guy falls on the floor and almost gets trampled.)
I could not understand a single word that her brother (the lead singer) was singing/shouting. Another interesting tidbit about this concert was that, when I showed up at the door, ID in hand, nobody seemed interested in seeing it. Not the bouncer at the door, not the person who took my money. No one. At first, I felt slightly offended, because I figured they all thought I looked so obviously over 21 that they didn't even need to bother with my ID. Then I realized that the band was really popular with the under-21 crowd, so the place was filled with high school kids, and there was no alcohol being served downstairs. Fortunately, the club had a second level which looks down onto the show but had the added bonus of not featuring a mosh pit AND of being exclusively for people who were older than 21. Despite the teeming masses of kids with dyed hair and facial piercings downstairs, the second level only had about 20 people in it, which meant that Holly and I were among the very oldest people in the entire club. Sweet.
We laughed about not fitting in at the club and Holly said, "We don't even fit in with the people who don't fit in! I want to slit my wrists!" To which I replied, "Hey, now you fit in!"
After the noise... I mean music... was finished, we said hi to Holly's brother and then left to go to a "grown up" hangout. I left at about 10 to go home and go to bed, and I listened to some Phil Vassar on the way home to soothe my poor ears. If not liking punk (alternative? What musical genre was that anyway??) music means I'm old, this is one time I'm proud to be old. But you better believe that if the band ever makes it really big, I'm going to name drop all over the place and brag about knowing the lead singer "way back when." I can even fake knowing the lyrics to all of their songs, since it's not like anyone knows what they're saying anyway.