"Going to see Mumford and Sons tonight! Love!"
Rational happiness mixed with some appropriate, giddy anticipation, right?
Now, back-up several weeks ago...
karen receives an email from the Mumford & Sons website:
"'Sup Canada (and folks living nearby to Canada)? Hope things are all good in your lovely lands. Just stopping by to see if you're free towards the end of October at all? Because the band have planned a few shows...
A ticket pre-sale will begin at 10am EST on Wednesday 14th September. Here are the pre-sale details so make sure you keep hold of this email."
Oh I LURV Mumford & Sons! I super heart them! Why, Marcus Mumford is my SECRET BOYFRIEND! Okay, I have to be ready for the EXACT MINUTE that tickets go on sale online so I don't miss out. Must be ready. Must call sister IMMEDIATELY because I KNOW she'll be coming too.
- Okay, sister is IN! Now I just have to be ready tomorrow when the time comes to enter the secret password.
Hm...wait a minute...how accurate is the clock on my computer? karen checks computer clock..checks kitchen clock...checks clock on electronic TV guide..checks time on The Weather Network station. Computer clock is reading the same time as the time everywhere else. However, this is not good enough.
karen links over to a website showing GREENWICH MEAN TIME and discovers that her computer is (gasp!) APPROXIMATELY TWENTY SECONDS FAST. karen makes note and will adjust herself for this discrepancy when ordering tickets.
Ticket purchase day arrives..
karen resists urge all morning to give wild noogies to family members
Computer shows 10:00
karen has already typed in username and password, but forces herself to count to 20 and then HITS THAT SUBMIT BUTTON
pits are sweaty
info is entered
karen needs to lie down but HUZZAH! SHE IS VICTORIOUS! SHE WINS! SUCKERS WHO AREN'T ON THE WEBSITE FAN LIST ARE LOSERS! NEENER, NEENER, NEENER!!!
Oh wait...(karen stops thinking in 3rd person)...I feel sick.
What have I done?
I regret this already.
I don't want to drive to HAMILTON.
Oh my god, why am I so stupidly impulsive?
Oh, my nerves!
Okay, get it together karen, old kid, old sock--you have over a month until the concert. You can put it aside in your brain. Yes, just put it aside.
BUT I DON'T LIKE CHANGES IN MY ROUTINE!
PUT IT ASIDE!
Finally, after a few weeks of fretting, CONCERT WEEK arrives. karen is FULL OF LAMENT:
why does the concert have to be in HAMILTON (whining)???
I HATE HAMILTON (no offense to Hamiltonians)
It's full of STUPID ONE WAY STREETS
Inner city driving freaks me out!
Why doesn't anyone come to THIS CITY???
Day before concert:
I feel nervous.
Okay karen, don't be retarded. You're going to a CONCERT.
You're going to see one of your favourite bands.
It's HAMILTON, not TORONTO, AKA: The Labyrinth of Hell
Hamilton is only an hour away.
Suck it up and ACT LIKE A GROWNUP.
10:00 PM, the Night Before The Concert:
I'm tired and cold.
I like to go to bed at 10:30.
See? See how tired I am???
What was I thinking?!?
I can't stay up late anymore?
karen, you're being an IDIOT again.
More fretting in between bouts of diarrhea
Nap from 12:30 - 1:00
thorough session on mapquest.ca to print out directions to and from the concert venue as well as a few maps, specifically of the STICKY less straight-forward portions of the drive.
At 2:00, karen takes out the tickets from their secret hiding spot in the mostly abandoned "sexy underwear" drawer.
karen actually takes a good look at the tickets and realises, for the first time, that it says "FLOOR."
I have tickets on THE FLOOR?
HOLY SHIT! I'VE GOT TICKETS FOR THE FREAKING FLOOR!!!
Nerves + elation = PINGING OFF THE WALLS
Just before leaving for concert:
-fun rabid session chasing The Man around dining room trying to stick my freezing hands on his sides
- show my new $16 RED purse that I bought for the concert to The Man, and inform him that it is so yummy-nummy that it is SEX ON A STRAP
- made enough ridiculous jokes that eventually The Man said: "Can you just GO?"
In the car, on the way to the concert
My sister is talking about how she HAD to straighten her hair before the concert, in case Marcus Mumford spies her in the crowd and then invites her back stage so he can tell her how it was LOVE AT FIRST SIGHT.
I'm nuts by this point, so I tell her what would really happen:
Me, pretending to be Marcus M., but using a very LOUD, obnoxious, COCKNEY ACCENT:
"OI! WOT'S YOR NAME? ARNIE? I'VE GOT A KNOB THAT NEEDS POLISHING!"
Aimee: "He would NEVER say that! He's NOT LIKE THAT!"
Laugh so hard at my own joke that I'm actually crying. Repeat knob polishing joke approximately 10 more times en route.
Finally make it to the venue!
However, because I'm so anal, it is just past 5:30.
The concert starts at 7:30.
We join the lineup of YOUTH out front of the concert hall.
Oh my god, we're the oldest people here.
One of the two, homely short teenager boys in front of us has farted.
I stand there in utter disgust as they are killing themselves.
Hey look: a few concert goers have just been dropped off out front by THEIR PARENTS.
Inside The Concert Hall
feel suddenly like jumping up and down and hugging some of the shallow youth who are everywhere because HOLY FROCK, I HAVE TICKETS FOR THE FLOOR BITCHES! BOO YAH!
Two Coffee Crisp chocolate bars: $5
One plastic cup of Coors Lite and one hard lemonade: $14.50
drink some of the beer but ditch the rest due to overwhelming fear of having to pee DURING the concert
Make our way onto the floor and delight in the fact that we are a mere 25 feet from the stage!
Oh, but wait....we'll be standing FOR HOURS. I can't STAND FOR HOURS!
Don't be such a BABY, karen--you STAND UP all day! Hell, you're always at the kitchen sink! You were MADE for standing.
Good looking young guy makes a POINT of checking me out.
Yep. Still got it.
As The Evening Progresses
My feet hurt
I'm tired of the smell of FEET. So, so tired of the smell of FEET.
It smells like FEET, BREATH, and SWEATY, HOT, UNWASHED CLOTHES in here.
Somebody farted again.
The fart has made me furious.
I would like to stop the concert to find out who farted.
If this stupid teenage BITCH doesn't stop using me as a leaning post, I'm going to lose it.
Inform sister how this CHICK won't GET OFF ME. Sister smiles serenely and shrugs. This shrug and smile means; "it's a CONCERT, karen. You just have to ROLL with it."
The crowd has shifted slightly again, so now annoying girl is leaning on my sister.
Aimee doesn't look so serene anymore.
Ridiculously burnt out in between acts. So burnt out in fact, that I point out an innocent concert goer guy off to my right with insane, thick carpet hair, and tell my sister that whenever our feet start to hurt, just look at buddy's hair and we'll feel better again. Once again, am laughing so hard I am crying. Poor innocent concert guy with terrible hair. It's not his fault he has insanely luxurious TEEN WOLF hair. He could buzz it though...
Everybody has a better phone than I. It's ridiculous in fact as all these skinny arms raise into the air to take pictures of the stage, and their stupid tricked-out phones are so much better--EXPONENTIALLY better in fact--that it looks like they're holding mini TV's in their hands, as I can see the crystal clear images on their phone screens.
Mumford & Sons Finally come on Stage!
Oh lookit: they're as cute on stage as they are on youtube. Aw, that's nice.
F*ck my feet hurt.
My feet hurt so much. So, so much.
They're aching. They're just aching.
Damn, the band sounds spectacular.
They are very, very talented.
My feet are blocks of pain.
They have turned into icy-hot, aching blocks of pain.
I can't stand anymore.
I can't take it.
Holy shit I can't believe how much feet can hurt.
Try alternately tapping feet.
Try alternately lifting one foot and standing flamingo style.
Try wiggling toes.
Toes feel like ice picks are slowly being slid inside, one by one.
OH sweet mother of mercy my feet F*CKING HURT.
Christ--are they EVER going to stop singing?
I'm just going to have to tell my sister we're going to have to leave a bit early.
Maybe we can listen to the rest of the concert out in the hall---SITTING DOWN.
The FLOOR is a wonderful, TERRIBLE GIFT.
I'm too old for tickets ON THE FLOOR.
I'm never GOING ON THE FLOOR AGAIN.
I'm in agony.
SWEET F*CK THESE PEOPLE STINK!!!!!!!
WASH YOUR FEET!
THROW THOSE SHOES AWAY!
OH NO, NOT THE ENCORE!!! I CAN'T TAKE ANYMORE!!!
Keep it together karen...keep it together....two songs, maybe three MAX. You can do that right? You've made it this far???
Oh, the last song is Roll Away Your Stone! Great song! The crowd is GOING NUTS! Everyone's jumping up and down! The lights! The sounds! It's great! I LOVE EVERYONE! I FEEL SO ALIVE! I'M NOT SO OLD! I'M STILL ALIVE! SING IT BOYS, SING IT!!!
And then it was all over.
I was spent.
|that's right--I have my hood pulled TIGHT and DONE UP under my chin. You got a problem with that, people? Well, I'm not ashamed. I'm nearly 40, and I have NOTHING TO LOSE.|
|another shot (pre-concert) for pure sexiness. In my defense, it was RAINING. PRINCESS HATES THE RAIN!!!|
|Aw, there are the boyz. Actually, I not only don't CARE that my camera takes SHITE PICTURES, I kind of like it. I think they look ARTSY. |
|a sea of cell phones and assorted TECHNOLOGY ~ A sign of the times.|
|love the contrast in colours...|
|by this point, if only my idiot feet had just fallen off|
|Yep. Still got it.|
|see how close I was to the stage? If only I'd had a chair :)|