Dirty Bums

My very first concert was a New Kids on the Block concert at Six Flags.  I begged and pleaded with my mother to let me go un-chaperoned with my friends. My mother bottom lined it and said “Go with me or don’t go at all.”  The surly teenager in me didn’t want to be seen with her, but my love of the New Kids overrode the horror and embarrassment of attending with my mom.

Concert day arrived and I drove my mother crazy all day.  I wanted to go when the park opened at 8am (The concert didn’t start until 8pm.)  My mother threatened to call the whole thing off, if I didn’t cool it. So I cooled it long enough to get in the car.  We finally left at Noon and I forced my mother to listen to a NKOTB retrospective, during our 45 minute drive. (45 minutes was all it took to go through the entire New Kids catalogue.) When we arrived, one of the workers told us that we needed to head towards the amphitheatre right away, because the line had already started.  This set my teenage angst into hyper drive. I was relentless with the complaints. Some examples of my grievances: “I told ya so, I told you we weren’t going to get good seats, we’re going to miss it, you ruined this for me.” (I’m annoying myself now.)

We reached the line and my hopes of actually seeing the concert were dashed. The line was two blocks long and the amphitheatre was tiny. We joined the line anyway.  I quickly made friends with the people on the other side of the fence. (The other side of the fence was the front of the line, I’m no fool.)   My new friends eventually said “Hey you want to cut with us?”   I gave my mom the “I Love You Mommy Look” and she said “ok.”  Keep in mind, cutting the line would require my mother to crawl on her hands and knees in amusement park dirt (Eww).  The vision of my mother’s rear end crawling underneath the fence is still imbedded in my brain.  (That’s LOVE people!)  I just knew this was going to be the best day of my life.  I was going to see the New Kids up close and personal.  What more could a thirteen year old girl ask for in 1988?

The gates finally opened and everyone rushed in.  My mom and I got 8th row seats.  I was so close I thought I might get hit with Jordan ‘s sweat.  (Oh the joy!!!) The lights went down and Tiffany (the opening act) came out. I could have cared less about her, but a major problem revealed itself when she started singing.  Everyone stood up and I couldn’t see the stage. (Actually, I couldn’t see anything but the rears of the people in front of me.)  My hopes were dashed again.  I had worked hard and come so far, just to be stuck watching asses.  To add insult to injury, my personal space was being invaded by the foulest of smells.  I was gagging, it stank so badly.  I realized the smell was coming from the rears of the people around me.  I pouted and held my nose through most of the concert.  The only bright light of the whole evening was when a security guard rescued me and let me hang out in the orchestra pit for ten minutes.  That totally made up for the rest of the concert.  I could almost touch Jordan . (Cue 13-year-old swoon.)  It was all I wanted out of life.  I left the amusement park on a complete high.  My mother and I drove home to the sounds of NKOTB, until she lost her mind and pulled the tape out of the stereo. She also put the mother’s curse on me, you know the one.  “I hope you have a child just like you, yada yada.” (I don’t have any kids yet, so only time will tell if the curse worked.)

I went to two more concerts in high school with the same results. As soon as the concert started, I got the wrong end of the ass. I don’t go to concerts any more.  If I want to stare at random people’s asses, I’ll just ride the subway.

PSA: Little People are subject to YOUR ASS- Wash your nether regions. Little People come very close to your derrieres. We don’t choose it, it just happens to us.  Take a shower; wipe your ass- save a little person.