Monday, February 11, 2008

A Saturday evolutionary tale

A dinner of tapas and margaritas turned into just enough of a social lubricant to keep the whole thing in its ridiculous perspective.

A $9.99 ticket went from the rafters and probably running a spotlight or two to an amazing, pricey seat just below the first level of corporate boxes in 9-iron distance of the stage, even by my swing.

A green glowstick went from being a weird alien pregnancy test to a swirling, radiant wand of bad rhythm to a newfound friend when I recovered one in the bathroom after having dropped my original under the seat in front of me (and then to a random joke left on a piano the next day, and currently to a still slightly illuminated blob in the bottom of my purse).

A cheesy smooth jazz opening act went from being a hobbit playing an electronic keyboard way too aggressively to my hero for the moment when he revealed his guitar player had toured with Earth, Wind, and Fire -- then cued up a medly ending with September.

A far-side-of-middle-aged man went from a scarily botoxed, outrageously stretched and ungracefully aging icon to the idol from my 8-track.

And a normally mild-mannered girl became a giggling, screaming, whistling, rhumba-ing Fanilow.

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