Do You Feel Like We Do?! (About Concert Standers)

I have painstakingly recreated the scene from a recent concert that Tony and I attended...

He surprised me with tickets to see a long time favorite of mine; Peter Frampton...
The occasion was our 28th anniversary and I was totally excited and touched by such a wonderful gesture on his part....
You see, Tony never has been much of a Frampton lover...
(unlike the gentleman depicted in the front row who continually was sending "shout-outs" to Peter, professing how very much he LOVED him... By the end of it all, Peter was a little weirded out with all of the man-love this dude was sending his way...)

So basically, my man scored 100% in the gift giving department!!!

Here is a run down of the nights activities:

• Out for drinks and appetizers at a small place close to venue
• Arrive at concert and buy large cokes (to spike with spiced rum held in flask Tony smuggled in)

• I probably should mention that we are "hard-core" concert participants who grew up in the 70's, which should explain aforementioned sneaky alcohol contraband...
• We duck into a unisex single bathroom to execute our mixology...
• We make a quick dash for the entrance to our seating only to be told that "just last week, the venue changed their policy, now NO DRINKS ALLOWED!"
• Can you say, CHUG?! Because that's exactly what we did... All the planning... all the sneaking... all the rum and coke to drink!!! But we are pros... we managed....
• Concert begins...

So we get to our seats, which were right in the middle...
where you could see Peter head-on....
where the glare off of his now hairless dome magically twinkled as he sang to me... "I'm in You"...
(oddly enough, my normally intuitive husband didn't even pick up on the sexual tension between Pete and me).
(the great seats became problematic however, once all of our chugging made our bladders completely full and we had to squeeze past 50 folks in either direction and apologize again and again for the disruption on the way to the restrooms)


Five minutes into the show, a lady several rows in front of us and to the left stood up and began her dance moves which numbered exactly four, which she repeated again and again.....and again, until the conclusion of the show...

I'm not kidding....

Here's the equation, for those of you who relate better to math than to simple stories:

Venue packed with 2000 seated people ready to have fun
+ 1 lone "stander", "dancer"
= Angry Mob of approximately 1999 PO'ed people

The show was fantastic, and I surprised myself with my ability to focus on the stage and push thoughts of bb-guns and spit-wads aimed at dancing lady's head aside...

for the most part....

with only the occasional urge to stand up and shout "SIT DOWN BEE-OTCH!!!!"

See...
I AM growing up!