Tara's Obfuscation Reward Story

Okay, so based on gleanings from Tara's blog, I have a distinct impression that she shares my love of quirky 80s bands and music. (Not to mention a grrrrrr-for John Cusack!) So I thought for my reward nostalgia story for Tara, I'd write about my first ever "grownup" concert attendance.

Rick Springfield's Cathode Ray tour in 1985. So I was 15, and didn't have much money, or a job, so when my friend Cathy wanted to go to the concert, which was in Pensacola (we lived in Fort Walton Beach) it meant I had to figure out some way to get the twenty bucks free and clear. Her mom was willing to drive us, but where to get the money? 'Til Tuesday was the opening act, and that was a cool extra.

Down the street from my house was a laundromat owned/run by this older guy. I have NO idea where I got the idea, but for some reason, I proposed to him that I work for him for a day or two to get the funds to pay for my ticket. Maybe cause he also had this other younger boy who sometimes would work there, handing out quarters & cleaning up any major messes. He said sure, and I "worked" there for a few hours for two days. Now as I think back, I think it was a very nice thing for him to do, basically, to give me the cash to go to this concert. It seems a little on the creepy side, too-- why would some middle-aged guy want to do this? But anyway-- no creepiness allowed.

So Cathy & I were set. Concert attendance was a MUST. We got all dolled up, and headed over. While we waited in the seats, which weren't really too bad, watching the scurry and shuffle of the roadies & the "floor" seating people down in the pit, we listened to the Beatles play over the speakers. I snottily mentioned that I didn't like the Beatles. (I know, I know-- I was 15, and I said it was snotty). The kid next to me, a teen a little older than us (so probably 17, tops) expressed his amazement at my snotty little declaration.

We grooved nicely to the songs of 'Til Tuesday, and I was a perfectly normal girl. After the open, the lights went up and we chatted with the guy next to us a bit, and just waited for the main event, happy, relaxed, sipping a soda. The lights went out in that sudden pitch black way you only get just before a concert. Hysteria ensued. Screaming, crying, more screaming. I swear, I have no idea why-- I didn't really like Rick that much before the concert, but something in that crowd-think teen girl pop-star cutie vibe really got to both me & Cathy-- who was also an otherwise levelheaded girl. The kid next to me even asked me at one time if I "was allright"... I remember I was annoyed with him for asking. But I really was hysterical for a time. Yes. I have been that girl. Hysterical teen freak girl.

The concert was not bad-- he sang a song about his father, who had recently died, while sitting on the edge of the stage, all lit up with white light with the background totally dark, holding a "portable" keyboard on his lap. There was some song about nuclear destruction or something where this giant rocket shaped balloon thing was batted around by the people in the pits. Of course he sang "Jesse's Girl."

Cathy & I went halvsies on a t-shirt. Since Cathy was considerably more well-endowed than I was, she ended up keeping the shirt cause it did not really fit me all that well after she wore it. :)

I've been to a lot of fabulous concerts since then, including some Prince concerts that caused major enthusiastic yelling. But never that screaming hysteria. The funny thing about it is that just before the concert I had dissed on the Beatles, and then I went and acted like one of those lunatic girls that used to faint cause the Beatles shook a mop out of a window. I can understand something about group hysteria because of that experience, and I tell you, I never want to be somewhere that mob mentality turns ugly cause in that place, all the group mind/hive thinking was focused on happy cute boy thoughts.

And for the record, I do like the Beatles now. Who wouldn't?? I don't know WHY I was so snotty about it, except to be contrary. Thank God for that part of the memory cause otherwise I'd have had to write myself off as a total numbskull for falling for the teen-idol crap so hard. What's a cynical girl to do with a memory like that to blush over?