The only common denominator at tonight's B52's concert is that at one point we were all in some kind of school (junior high/ high school/ college) listening to their music. And then we split up and moved to the suburbs/communes/McMansion developments of our choice where we lived our separate lives until we reconvened tonight. Seriously, there was a Lily Pulitzer sundress a couple rows in front of us and directly to her right was a person (possibly a drag queen?) in a paisley mini dress and a beehive. The age range was 20-something to 60-something. The only people older than the audience were the security guards. And oh boy did they have their hands full.
We sat in the section where people had walked a long way from the parking lot and were interested in sitting down. So there we were, like a little island in the sun, dancing amid the sitter-downers. There was a time when this would have been a dream come true. You know, when you're all "hey, you in the band, look at me look at me look at MEEEEE!"
Tonight we didn't so much care that they knew we had ventured out on a Saturday night just to see them and we knew all the words to all the songs and had at one point dressed like them and toyed with the concept of false-eyelashes that cast their own shadows. We were, in fact, there to see the opening band, who totally kicked it. And then we stayed because of all of the above including, but not restricted to, knowing all the words to all their songs.
It was destined to be a perfect night. First of all, we were out. Second of all, Sarah drove the Falcon and when we were faced with parking 17 miles away (and missing the Ticks because of the 45 minute walk from the car) she leaned out the window and asked the stern and stoic parking lot security guy "can we park up front since we're so cute?"
I tell you, if I had EVER mustered the courage to say those words I would have just kept driving to my 17 mile away parking spot without waiting for an answer. And so I would have missed him saying "yes." Yes! He said yes!
"Nice car," he added. So we got rock star parking. We tried to look like this stuff happens all the time but were too busy squealing to pull it off effectively.
Speaking of rock star-ness, I had to stand there like the not-so-attractive wing girl while some woman GUSHED Sarah's praises and Would Not Shut Up. And she spilled beer on me while she was doing it. Whatever.
So because I can't just be where I am, I spent most of the concert thinking about where I was when I was listening to the songs the first time around. I used to ski with Cosmic Thing in my Walkman (remember? those things that weighed a lot and only fit 90 minutes of music). When Wild Planet came out I had a purple streak in my hair and wore mostly black and white checks. And somehow the songs were still around when I was old enough to get into nightclubs. Impressive, that.
They have some great pictures of the band on their website. No one, in the history of textiles, has ever been as stylish as the B52's. Except possibly us with the top down in the Falcon.