There were only 4 mullets sighted at the Journey concert. I was very disappointed. However, one mullet apparently did not have a good seat and felt fit to wander the aisle in front of us throughout the entire concert, playing air guitar as though his performance was somehow dependant upon the success of the concert. I know that it certainly aided in MY enjoyment of the concert!
I should have warned Carissa. I was cursed when I was four years old by a gypsy, tramp and a thief to always have a very tall person standing for no apparent reason in front of me at any concert I attend. Three rows down from us was what I assume was a husband and wife with their two sons’. Or should I say one normal son and one freakish genetic mutation of a son. Or possibly Andre the Giant’s love child? Not sure. I felt like walking over and asking the woman if she had ever indulged in a little Fessig lovin’ but I refrained.
For some reason, I feel compelled to now give you a bit of Weetabix trivia: I once touched Andre the Giant’s sweaty arm. Yes. Be in awe. I think that possibly his sweat absorbed into my skin and the free-floating testosterone then caused my upper lip to need waxing for the rest of my life.
Anyway, at a certain point in the middle of Peter Frampton, the family three rows down decided that they would stand up and groove to ‘Do You Feel’. And then never sat back down again. Even when Peter was playing b-sides to songs that never saw the light of day, the family did not want to sit. Finally, the father threw up his hands in disgust at the music and sat down. The wife continued to dance and gyrate and then finally collapsed into a pile of menopausal lust for Frampton. The two boys continued to stand, straight solid. I think they felt that by standing, they could disassociate themselves from their parents. But the Freakishly Tall boy was standing directly in front of us and would not sit down until long after Frampton had left the stage.
Frampton was enjoyable but strange. Whenever I’d find myself starting to enjoy the music, I’d then become concerned that he was going to break a hip or something. Oh, and he cut all of his hair off now. He vaguely looked like my seventh grade math teacher. The souvenier stand was selling Frampton bi-focals(TM) and Frampton Collostomy Bags(TM).
The big conundrum of the night: it was 120 degrees. I think I may have lost 20 pounds in sweat. Carissa and I dislike beer very much. Only once in my life has beer ever tasted good and that was when Esteban and I went on a tour of the Miller Brewing Company. They subject you to a bunch of videos and presentations and by the time you are done with the tour, the only things important to you are God, America and Miller Beer, in that order. And at the end of the tour, they give you three free Miller beers (Lite, Genuine Draft and Icehouse) and at that point, you are brainwashed into thinking ‘Damn, that’s good beer’. And I did think that and also fought off the urge to buy a package of Marlboros and vote for Bob Dole in that year’s election.
Anyway, at one point the guy next to us was crawling over me to get out of our row. I asked him ‘Are you going to get beer?’ And he said ‘Yes, would you like a beer?’ And it sounded wonderful, so I gave him a twenty and said yes, get us two beers. And thought nothing of it. Carissa at that point had become friendly with the couple on the other side of us (because Carissa is the kind of person who makes immediate friends with anyone anywhere and thanks to her, we always have loads of men surrounding us at any affair we attend) and explained what happened. They were certain that I would never see beer nor my change. I stood firm in my belief that they would come back (because honestly, why would anyone give up their good concert seats to steal $20? That’s ridiculous! Plus, the guy had spiked hair. Actual spiked hair. Anyone with spiked hair in 2001 has to be too dorky to be dishonest. It’s a rule.) I had the urge to quote Will Rogers or possibly Garrison Keillor but it would be lost on all present and I would have simply looked like a pretentious ass. But Spiked Hair returned, with our icy cold beers and my change and all were left with faith in humanity. It was a touching moment. And I had beer to guzzle without having to leave my seat, which made me very happy indeed.
When Journey came onstage, immediately the family stood up again, ignoring pleas from those of us in the four rows behind them. I noticed two empty seats in FRONT of them, so I went up there and sat or stood, depending upon my mood. Didn’t matter because they were standing the whole time, so I was obstructing the view of no one. Carissa reluctantly joined me (she has a very strong moral code and was worried that we would be STEALING those seats which were the same price as the ones we had, only four rows up) and immediately made friends with the people around us in THAT row.
PseudoPerry rocked the house down. He had an excellent stage presence, obviously studying under the tutelage of David Lee Roth. He doesn’t quite have the vocal range as Steve Perry. Occasionally, I saw him squeezing his nether regions to obtain high notes. However, he was attired in the Leather Pants of 1984 Rock Stars so perhaps he was adjusting. After all, it was like 150 degrees and I’m certain that leather pants can be non too cool especially while gyrating under hot lights. Maybe they weren’t real leather pants? Maybe he was wearing PseudoPants? And speaking of his wardrobe, he was wearing tan leather pants with a black belt and brown shoes. That’s not good rock fashion sense, PseudoPerry.
Actually, it doesn’t matter what PseudoPerry was wearing because he was HOT! And he also looked very much like ActualPerry, with long 80’s permed hair and the big Perry beak nose. It was actually a little disturbing. He sounded so much like Steve Perry and when you squinted, he looked like Steve Perry. It was almost like he was a pod person that didn’t quite turn out.
Then we walked the five miles back to the car and drove home, blasting the Journey CD and the air conditioning as far as they would go. We actually had condensation on the OUTSIDE of the windshield from the extreme temperature differences. Finally, at 1:30 in the morning, I got home and Esteban was waiting up for me, I think to make sure I didn’t go off to live in sin with a overly-endowed leather pants wearing aging rock star.
Lack of mullet-hunting aside, it was a splendid time.
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