It's a wash

For once, I was off for the weekend.  Saturday night John and I had tickets for Scorpions and RATT.  Now I can get into Scorpions.  I mean who doesn't turn up the volume when the hear "Rock You Like a Hurricane" or "No One Like You?"  But RATT, I could do without. I mean, I didn't like them in the eighties, so the washed up 2010 version didn't do much for me.  Not to mention, We Were Promised Jetpacks were playing in Louisville, KY at that very moment.  WTF!  But I sat and listened and even clapped a few times.  Hey, if John (who's not a WWPJ fan) can sit through two of their shows, I could suffer through RATT... even if I had to cover a few yawns with my hair.  But as usual, I digress.

I'd worked Friday night and wasn't completely awake yet when we got to the arena.  However, I was alert enough to take in my surroundings.  Deflated rear-ends covered in leather and denim, men and women with thinning hair, various black t-shirts with other band logos, women with hair that had been magically transported from the 80's to now.   I even spotted "that guy."  (As in the 1994 movie "PCU,"  Droz (Jeremy Piven) tells Gutter (Jon Favreau) "What's this? You're wearing the shirt of the band you're going to see? Don't be that guy.")  Actually, it was a "that couple"- a husband and wife duo wearing Scorpions shirts.

More than a few times I noticed small children, and by small I mean less than ten.  This is just weird to me.  Who brings kids to a concert where there will be frequent references to sexual encounters and the F-word?  Plus, who wants to have to keep up with kids that small at a concert. Can you really even enjoy yourself?  I know the kids didn't.  They're probably still wondering why their little ears are ringing.
We were sandwiched between three obese people-one who needed a cane to walk-and a mom with two kids-ages (estimated) 10 and 16.  As Murphy's Law would have it, the large individuals were closest to the stairs, preventing anyone from getting out with any ease.  The mom next to us went completely apeshit when the lights went down.  She proudly raised her 20 oz. plastic cup of beer and shouted "WOOOOOOOO!!!"  God help me if I ever do that in front of my kids.

Seated in front of the mom was a man-sporting the classic black t-shirt and bald head- who profoundly stated "it's almost like '87 again... almost."  He also continually referred to Scorpions as "Scorps."  His buddy had a strange resemblance to Stu from The Hangover, only a slightly dumpier.  During anything remotely close to a guitar riff, he'd lean forward, like he needed to fart, and shake his fist.  Weird.  He wasn't the only fist-pumper.  Oh no, there were plenty.

During the intermission, John went to get beer.  Being the attentive husband that he is, he brought me some coffee. Hallelujah!  I opened the lid and dumped in some cream and sugar.  I should clarify, this stuff was coffee in the sense that it was warm, brown, liquid, and had grounds at the bottom.  I just hoped it had caffeine.  But hey, who drinks coffee at a rock concert?  Probably not very many people, so I couldn't very well expect Starbucks.

During the Scorpions show, the mom was led out by the two girls-each one took a hand- and I sincerely hope the older one could drive.  I'm pretty sure I smelled marijuana at some point, not that I'm frowning on that, just wasn't in the mood for a contact high that might make me sleepier.  And the guy directly behind us felt the need to do his own whistling through "Wind of Change."  It wasn't just regular whistling, it was the kind where you put two fingers in your mouth and burst people's eardrums.

It was a great people watching event, and Scorpions were really good. About midway through their set, the background showed footage from their early shows and a montage of album covers.  They played "Send Me an Angel" in tribute to Ronnie James Dio, which was cool.  So overall I'm glad I went, even if I'm still a little sad about missing WWPJ.

So here comes Sunday, and John & I decide we'll catch a movie while the kids are still gone.  The latest episode in 80's remakes-"Predators."  While not technically a remake, it's the next chapter in the Predator saga.  We should've seen "The A-Team," or anything else for that matter.  I predicted every single plot element, and the ending sucked.  There were some good one-liners and fight scenes, but that's all this movie has going for it. Save your money or pick another movie at the theatre, I'm sure "Predators" will be on TBS sometime in the next year.

I feel that in the last 24 hours, I've paid my dues to the spirit of the 1980's.  Let's hope next time it's a little more enjoyable. Wait, that sounded pretty bitchy-maybe I just needed more sleep and more alcohol.