I'm not even sure where to begin. I realize, in reading over my past few entries, that it seems as though I'm riding a high horse named Cynic these days. I'm in a good mood, really. There are just things, lately, that have really been bothering me, so I've figured I might as well use my blog for good rather than evil. The good, my friends, comes just from the mere fact that I can put these feelings and annoyances on paper (eh, on screen) and theoretically be relieved of them.
Now, I should have considered my propensity to be easily annoyed as of late before agreeing to go and see Kenny Chesney perform at Merriweather Post Pavilion this past Friday. But, alas, he is one of my favorite live performers and, when the opportunity to go see him arose, I could not refuse. So, off I went--along with three friends--on Friday afternoon. Friday of Memorial Day weekend. In a car. Travelling the same route (though it probably wouldn't have mattered) as those getting out of town and heading to the beach. Let the annoyance begin.
Thankfully, our driver was attuned to and familiar with the ins and outs of the Maryland back roads, so we made it to the concert in time and with only minimal irritation levels. We grabbed some dinner at a nearby restaurant (that had cartoon murals of vegetables adorning the walls) and then headed to the venue.
Enter the crowd. Now, don't get me wrong. I know that when you go to any concert, the majority of the fans are going to be individuals who fit the stereotype of the featured genre of music. But, as one of my companions aptly stated, "Why do people automatically associate plaid with country music?" Well said, friend. Plaid. And sleeveless--bonus if it was both. Cut off denim, no matter the size of the thighs. Belt buckles made of enough silver to adorn with jewelry a small South American nation. Cowboy boots with otherwise non-cowboy apparel (picture short, skimpy sundresses). I could go on, but I will refrain, lest I be castigated for proclaiming myself the Captain of the Country Music Concert Fashion Police. But first, let me just say that the people watching? Amazing.
Before I forget: can someone please tell me whose brilliant idea it was to have an entire food stand devoted to sushi? Sushi! At an outdoor concert venue. That presents most, if not all, of its shows in the summer. When, you know, it's HOT OUTSIDE.
The crowd was pretty standard. The diversity within it, not surprisingly, came not from ethnicity or race but, rather, from the degree of drunkeness. This blogger was pushed forward and almost knocked over (thank goodness for impeccable balance) not once but twice by inebriated 20-something boys. If I had a beer for every boxer short baring, wife beater wearing, song slurring, non-reformed frat boy who stumbled his way over and/or around us well, I'd be drunker than they were. And I can generally hold my alcohol well (5/2/09, anyone?).
My biggest complaint (Ha! You probably thought I couldn't complain any more than I already have) is that due to the accoustics and the roar of the crowd, it was hard to hear Kenny belt it out. Add to that the fact that he seemed to get a kick of having the audience do a lot of the singing (which I don't mind, but I prefer sing-alongs over sing-insead-ofs) and it was not one of my favorite Kenny experiences. Luckily, I had a fun group of gals with whom to people watch and enjoy the experience. And I like to hear my own voice.
