Didja miss Part I? Find it here.
So where were we? Ah, yes. The actual meat of the concert: the pre-game. And by "pre-game," dear readers, I do not mean the "cool" kind of pre-game where you get together at Joe Beer-Fridge's house and pound shots of Military Special vodka (this is not my idea of a "cool" pre-game anyway, seeing as I can taste the potatoes in Military Special). Our pre-game involved blankets, food, and opening acts no one is paying attention to.
|The typical Friend-me-on-Myspace local guitar hero, aka, |
The Opening Act.
Allow me to describe your typical Heart concert-goers.
- All are middle-aged white people. They also go see Journey and REO Speedwagon and their wedding song was Faithfully (I respect this decision).
- Among these concertgoers, we have: the recent divorcees on Girl's Night Out in the tightest jeans they can shove their MILF legs into (do not get me wrong, many of these divorcees have a body 80x better than I do. I am showing respect, admiration, and a touch of jealousy).
- We have the couple holding hands and rekindling their relationship by singing along softly to "Dog and Butterfly," leaning into each other's arms.
- We have the Guy Behind Me already on his 6th $10 Coors Lite.
- We have Woman 3 Rows In Front Of Me who is possibly a little tipsy, is the only one standing in the entire lawn section, and dances her way through the entire concert,even the new songs a few good Samaritan audience members pretend to care about.. I kind of loved her. I wanted to go dance with her, but the recent divorcees beat me to it after their third wine cooler.
- Finally, we have the accompanying offspring of the middle-aged white people who think Heart is kinda cool but they'd still sell their entire Seventeen magazine collection for some Justin Bieber concert tickets. These are the ones who spend the ENTIRE CONCERT facing backwards on their parents' blanket, staring slack-jawed at The Only People Over 15 and Under 40 At The Entire Concert.
That would be me and Derrick, in case you weren't paying attention.
I couldn't tell if they were:
I couldn't tell if they were:
- horrified that we, self-respecting twentysomethings with no horrible deformities or apparent mental disorders, were caught dead at a Heart concert instead of say...whoever the kids are listening to these days. BonnapaloozaLilithFest, I don't know.
- fascinated that we, self-respecting twentysomethings with no horrible deformities or apparent mental disorders of a legal drinking and driving age, were sitting that close to them and they wanted to see How the Cool Kids Lived and Pre-gamed (they being young, innocent, and unaware of the blindness-inducing flavor of Military Special).
- were actually watching Drunk Guy Behind Me and I have a horrible judge of who's staring at me and who's staring at awkward concertgoers with crappy taste in beer.
- admiring the hotness of Derrick, who with his chiseled good looks, charm, and clothes-so-preppy-even-J.-Crew-would-defer-to-him-at-the-Country-Club would just about be every tween's dream. I debated slipping them his number, but I knew it would just end up in heartbreak when they found out he didn't have the charm and painfully scripted dialogue of the Wizards of Waverly Place.
Also, because Derrick would kill me.
|What a badass.|
But enough about tweens. Let's move on to what all of you (none of you) really care about: picnic fare. We had...
Shrimp that we grilled and then stuffed in...
Spinach and cheese quesadillas!
Pasta salad with rotisserie chicken, olives, and tomatoes...
And even though we were seated all the way up in Egypt...
I had an amazing time.