Same Planet, Different Worlds

Amid the craziness of the past week, there were two concerts.

I. Unwigged and Unplugged: Christopher Guest, Harry Shearer and Michael McKean at the Lyric

Cost
$11 for parking (We had free tickets.)

Crowd
Nerdy. A smattering of hipsters, but mostly nerds of all ages. I saw a guy un-ironically wearing a Transformers sweatshirt. It was nice to be among my people.

Highlights

• A dramatic reading of NBC’s proposed edits to Spinal Tap for late-night television in 1985.
• Everything that Harry Shearer said.
• Corn Wine, which is still stuck in my head.
• The original Spinal Tap cheese trailer.

Lowlights

• It was tough to hear some of the lyrics
• I looked kind of lame. It would have been a good excuse to put on one of the many fabulous vintage dresses sitting in my closet that I am itching to wear, but I was so exhausted that I couldn’t deal with changing before we left.
• The guy next to me was resplendent in cologne. By the time we left I felt like I was getting bronchitis.

Misc.

• I saw a couple of women with hair kind of the way mine used to be, and I was glad to no longer have a hairstyle that takes three hours to dry.
• Good sattire is art.
• Nerd crowds really are the best.

II. Bruce Springsteen and the E. Street Band at the Star Pavilion in Hershey Park

Cost
$232.80 + $11.00 for parking, gas to and from Hershey.

Crowd
White. More lesbians than I would have expected. (Not to say that before major events I sit around contemplating the potential lesbian density for the evening, but it was, nonetheless, surprising.)

Highlights

• Bruce’s energy during a show is inhuman. While the music is not my style, good lord, that man puts on a show like no one I have ever seen. It worth it just to see that kind of performance.
• One of the last songs featured not one, but TWO ACCORDIONS.
• Even twenty-five years after Born In The USA (which thankfully he did not play), no one inhabits the back half of a pair of jeans like the boss. That is some righteous tush.

Lowlights

• We were in section “H,” which apparently stands for, “Hey I can’t see anything.”
• Everytime the crowd started hooting “Bruuuuce,” all I could think of was, “They’re saying Booo-urns.” Early in my relationship with Scott, I wondered if the fact that he could not also carry on lengthy conversations comprised entirely of lines from the first ten seasons of The Simpsons would come between us. Usually it does not, but last night I had a big case of pop culture reference blue balls.
• Some one in front of us had wicked bad gas during the encore.
• It took an hour to get out of the parking lot. I wanted to go to sleep in the car, but Scott asked me to keep him awake, so I sang song from 70s TV shows.

Misc.

• I did not know this until last night, but Bruce’s music is an aphrodesiac for white people. There was more making out and ass-grabbing than I’ve seen at concert in a long, long time, maybe ever. The ass-grabbing was particularly widespread. Perhaps it was the influence of that righteous tush.
• Living with some one who always has samples of non-perishable foods in the back of his car is very handy during a late night traffic jam.
• Landshark beer tastes like beer. I really like it. It doesn’t have overtones of anything, or one characteristic that overpowers all the others. It just tastes like great big capital B Beer.