Concert Night #2…

(What? No poetry?)

Sunday night, Vicky and I went to my second show of the weekend. This show she had won tickets to from KLOS, and a big Thanks goes to them. So, we drove to the Pacific Amphitheater to see Thin Lizzy, Blue Oyster Cult, and Deep Purple!

It was the Monsters of Really Old Rock Tour…

Oy.

It turned out that neither of us had ever been to the Pacific Amphitheater before. It also turned out we weren’t missing anything.

We walked up to the first attendant we saw and asked where our seats were. “Other side of the theater,” he said. “You’ll have to walk around. Either way is fine.” Great. So, we walked. The next attendant told us to keep going. The next attendant told us to keep going. And the next attendant told us to keep going.

We got so exhausted, we stopped for margaritas. (Yea Margaritas!)

Then, we walked to the next attendant… who turned out to be the first one we spoke to. “How do we get to our seat from here,” I asked, “because we’re going in no matter what you tell us.”

It took a while to get to our seats. Part of this was because they were pretty far away. They weren’t far up… like normal… no, these were far down. In the pit! Two chairs from the stage!

Yes! Rock on!!!

The first band came out. Turned out Thin Lizzy couldn’t make it. The boys were definitely not back in town. Instead, out came The Edgar Winter Group. I’ll start with “Yes, he did have a couple of hits” and I’ll finish with “His name is Edgar and he’s 73 years old so, really, what do you expect?”

Now, I don’t know if it was Edgar or the margarita that was giving me reflux, or if it was the way the seats were packed in, four per inch, I just hoped the next band would be…

Blue Oyster Cult! Yes! Sweet! I worshipped these dudes back in the early 80’s. Burning For You was one of my favorite songs ever! I was in the presence of…

Um… old dudes…

Meanwhile, I have to point out what Vicky pointed out to me. Over to our left, about ten seats over, some parents had brought their two sons, about ten years old or so. Both of them had these looks of shock on their faces. “You used to listen to dudes who look like my Principal and play this shit?” It was priceless! And then, there was the guy in his twenties sitting just ahead of us, this Brendan Fraser wannabe, who danced to every conceivable sound in the place. Hey, I understand having a good time but do you need to dance to that guy’s flatulence?

Anyway, BOC closed with the worst rendition I’ve ever heard – and let’s remember that I worked as a Karaoke DJ for a while, okay? – and that was enough for me. Anyway, I’ve never been a Deep Purple fan.

… and this is the part where you get to call me a dick. Vicky’s favorite color is Purple. Okay? She left, but you could see her thinking, “I could have married a younger, less gassy, more tolerant, better looking man who wouldn’t write this up on our blog… dammit.”