I Didn't Come To The Concert To Watch YOU!

Last week, we went to the 311 concert in Virginia Beach.  We have been going to see them play each year for the last 15 years as it has been Fran's favorite band since high school, and one of mine since he introduced them to me in college.  We always have a great time; we listen to their music and take in the new sounds that they have been working on for the previous year.  However, each year we go, we get older.  That may sound like an obvious statement, but what I really mean is that we get older and the youngest seem to get younger (and more risque).

When we were nineteen and seeing them play, we had a tolerance for distractions that can come with being in close quarters with others.  As we age (to our current "young" age of thirty-five), our tolerance for distraction has diminished greatly.  In other words, it seems that the increase in our age is indirectly proportionate to the amount of irritating distractions we can handle.

With the soaring costs of tickets and fees, we make only a few demands.  To the Jersey Shore guys next to us who thought it was "cool" to dance side-to-side and interrupt our view every 2.5 seconds, dance vertically and not horizontally.  To the three attendees in our near vicinity, Facebook is not to be checked during a concert.  To the girls in the row in front of us who were so utterly scantily clad, put some clothes on.  To those same girls, your bottom is not designed to be shaken like that except in a gentlemen's club.  And to those Jersey Shore dudes, videotaping said gentleman's club dancers on your smart phones is, alas, not so smart.

We attend concerts at $50-60 a pop because we absolutely love music.  It's not necessarily a social event for us; it really is all about the music.  We love the instruments, we love the band members, and we love the memories that the music creates for us.  We always attend 311 concerts with my sister-in-law and her husband, and we always make memories at these concerts.  This year, we just have some memories that we hope won't stay with us forever.  Aside from the fantastic music, of course.

Believe it or not, the moral of the story is not for us to loosen up.  We are fairly cool, mid-thirties people.  But I'll use a few cliches to sum up what I learned:

Mamas, don't let your babies grow up to be pole dancers; and
You can lead a horse to the concert, but you can't make it listen to the music.