Al Fresco

So, I went to see Dave Matthews Band on Saturday night. Yes. Dave Matthews. I know. So not cool. I know I'm supposed to hate Dave. Jam band. So trite. So 90s. So over. But wait. There's a problem with that. What was it? Oh, yeah. I'm not cool. Therefore I can like who I like. No repercussions to my coolitude. So - whatevah! I do what I want! And this was a delayed birthday present (thanks, T!). So, I was going to enjoy the hell out of myself, come hell or high water, which it nearly did.

I put on my hippie-dippie peasant blouse and was ready to jam out. And it was like Mother Nature was conspiring to back me up. It was an out door show. Because of which, when I got the tickets, I thought "August 15, in Texas - hot, humid, hell". But it was in the mid-80s when we got there, and admittedly humid, but breezy, so actually very comfortable. Then about half-way through the show, it started to sprinkle. Not rain, just a little light love-tap from the sky. Very nice.

Pretty much there are 3 types of people that go to a DMB show: 1) ex-hippies who are reliving their Grateful Dead days, 2) frat types who will be doing the frat boy yell and point at the stage "Woooooo - yeeeaaaahhhhh! Dave, man! Ants Marching! Yeaaaaaahhhhhh!", and 3) the sexy couples who will be doing the sexy dance to every song whether it's Wasting Time (appropriate) or Halloween (inappropriate - and, editorial note, they did do it at this show, never seen it live - awesome) or Tripping Billies (virtually impossible to sexy dance to - but somehow they manage). And all 3 contingents were out in force.

And just as a side note: what is up with people who go to a concert and sit in the parking lot tailgating blaring the band that they have come to see? You know, those people are going to be there, right there, on the stage, playing live. The real people. Playing the same songs. But live. Which is presumably why you paid $50 + $15 for parking to here rather than the privilege to be here loitering in the parking lot. I do not get it. Personally, I go on radio silence the week after a show, and listen to anything but that band. Sort of a brain sorbet. A palate cleanser if you will. But there they sit. To each his own, I guess.

Funniest event of the show went on right in front of us. There was this guy. Nice looking. Great body. And hitting on anything within a 3 foot radius. Seriously. Working his mojo like a hoodoo man on St. John's Eve. And our boy needed some help, because his mojo was waaaay outta whack. 5 girls up. 5 girls walk away. Seriously, if you're that good looking (and at a Dave Matthews concert, please and thank you) and you can't score, either you're a complete asshole or a complete idiot. Or possibly both, because I think baby boy went home alone. So sad. So sad.

Anyway, good time had by all. Well, almost all. Sorry hot guy. Better luck next time.