Concerts: Am I too old?

Jeff and I were discussing Michael Jackson. It was nearly 8:00. The doors had opened at 7:00, but I was trying to be an adult and not a whiny teenager, so I wanted to get there for the main event, rather than standing through the opening band. I was trying to act like it was NBD– no big deal we weren’t there at 6:45, tickets in hand. No, in fact, at 6:45 I was standing around in my bathroom, blowing drying  my Rapunzel-like hair, fixing my makeup, deciding what to wear. No more of this kid’s stuff — I was finally going to do a concert right.

So, when it was time to go, I asked Jeff if we should walk to the theater. It was a mile away — no big deal. He said, “Let’s ride our bikes.” Oh fine, no problem, cool. Let’s go get them…15 minutes later, after Jeff finishes zip-tying my shifter on (thanks, babe) and after I run up to get the tickets, which I’ve forgotten, and after I yell at Jeff that he absolutely DOES need his helmet, thank you very much, we’re on our way. It’s around 8:20, and I am repeating in my head, You’re not that late, calm down. According to 3eb’s website, they were due on at 9:15. No big deal. No sweat.

Well, when we arrived at the theater, I was hot and sweaty, but too excited to care. We parked our bikes, and I raced across the street. Ready to go, tickets in hand.

Once inside, I promptly bought a t-shirt, stuffed it in my bag, and then went to get a beer. (I am not one of those people that buys a shirt and then wears it to the concert– I think that is tacky. Old shirts from other tours, fine. But not the same tour, no no no.)

We then plotted a place on the floor, and waited. 8:40. Great. Plently of time to stand around and drink our beers. And got hot. And sweaty. As I stood on the floor, contemplating what I was going to write to you today (Is it bad that I am always walking around with a blog monologue in my head?) I got hotter, and hotter, and hotter. Sweatier, and hotter. And I had no hair tie, and layers of makeup on. 8:50. Ugh. Why do people go to concerts? Concerts where the venue is hot and people smell and half of the audience doesn’t know the unabridged words to Semi-charmed Life? Sigh. The time was ticking, and I was beginning to think that maybe this was a terrible idea.

But then, around 9:10, the lights dimmed a little. At 9:20, the drummer began a lovely solo, and out came SJ. Saying:

“Horny & burned out now is how it always ends for me…”

And I knew why I was at the concert. For the next roughly 2 hours, I jumped, sang along, took video, photos, danced, shook my booty, jumped some more, and squealed especially loud when they played Jumper. I tried and tried not to be offended by the audience members who talked through songs, didn’t know the “new” ones, and insisted on making out all around me with their loved ones. I mean, really, do the words

“Two lines of coke Id cut with draino
And her nose starts to bleed
A most beautiful ruby red”

really scream “kiss me now, please”???? I think not. But I persisted, enjoyed myself, and ignored everyone else.

Yes, folks, that’s right. I am in love with 3eb at heart, and no matter how sweaty, old, and tired I get, their concerts never get old. I will never be too old to stay out until 12:30, sweat through my clothes, ride home (stopping on the way to get In-n-Out), and fall asleep with my towel on my head after rinsing off.

This is why I love Jeff: Because he went to this concert with me, didn’t complain at all, bought me a beer, suggested we should go to In-n-Out after the show, bought me a shake and fries, and pulled the towel off my head and hung it up to dry when I passed out from exhaustion. And then, proceeded to drive me to work this morning (I normally bike.) That’s love.

You know someone loves you when they scrap out your gravel.

So last night, on my way home, I fell off my bike.

I was on my way home, and I was riding, crossing the street, when a pedestrian starts walking down the street. So I use the road, to avoid him, and at the next “on” ramp (aka driveway) I turn to go up the sidewalk.

and fall.

So the pedestrian helps me up, grabs all of my items that have FLEW all over the sideway (including the things in my basket–sandals, penguin-shaped thermos) and then he goes on. I am bleeding from the hand, and my leg is killing me. Probably is scraped, but I am wearing footless tights. So I am like “It’s ok, I’m ok, what do I do?” I look into the pouch underneath my seat, thinking maybe Jeff stored a secret first aid kit. He did NOT. So, Girl Scout Jennie pulls a hair tie (I had 2 in my hair) off her hair, takes some tissues from my bag, and fashions a bandage around her hand/thumb. Done. Not worrying about the leg, because it’s covered. I get on my bike to keep going….but the chain has fallen off.

So I am calm as a cucumber. I call Jeff:
“Hey babe, I am fine, but I fell off my bike.”
“OK….are you sure you’re OK?”
“Yes, but the chain fell off. What do I do?”

Jeff explains to me I merely put it back on, and it’ll push itself into place. Fine, fine. I do this, clean my hands off with more tissues and water, and then ride on. I’m ok, I keep telling myself.

I get home, wash out my leg, clean my hand, and wait on the couch covered in bacitracin until Jeff got home. Then, when Cor finally got home, I had her pick out the gravel, since Jeff insisted it could stay there because it’d push itself out.

Family is: someone who will pick the gravel out of your hand with tweezers and not bat an eyelash. Even though they were at work from 8 am until 8:30 pm. That’s love.

Meanwhile, I will begin biking again tomorrow…

In other words, my legs are sore.

metro

So I’ve been biking home from work on and off for 2 weeks, now. I rode home part of last week, and both Monday and Tuesday of this week. Monday was supposed to be my first day biking TO work, but I chickened out at the last minute. Mostly I wanted to sleep in, but part of me was scared of the ride TO the train, which is uphill and through a busy part of Hollywood. Of course, it’s also only a half-mile, so really I needed to get a grip and just do it.

Tuesday I woke up and decided that maybe Wednesday, mid week, would be a good day to start.

Tuesday night I went to bed at 11, and thought for sure I’d chicken out by the morning. But I felt terrible for Jeff, who kept having to get up early to bring me to work. So I decided I would just do it, indeed! I got up at 6, a half hour late, but by 6:33 I was out the door ready to bike to the station. It took me until 6:44 to get underground and get my ticket, so I must have biked faster than I did the first time (when Jeff and I went to Pasadena for my volleyball game and it took me so long I was embarassed and angry).

So I managed to get on the 6:47 train to Union Station, and from there it was a lovely ride. I switched to the gold line from the red line around 7:10, and at 7:45 I was above ground getting on my bike at Lake Station. I pedalled into the courtyard at 7:56, and was certainly on time for work!

I also made the discovery that from work to Lake Station, which is almost a mile and a half, the road is a hill. The entire way. So all my self-depreciating thoughts of how I was terribly out of shape are not justified — really I am just biking up a hill. Go me!

This also means the bike to work is very easy — which means I probably won’t be minding it much. Except the getting up at 5:30 part.

Bicycle!

IMG_0072

bike1

bike2

So Jeff bought me this shiny new toy for my birthday. It’s green. It shines. It has new brakes, an air pump, a removable basket, and some lights.

In short, it is fabulous. And today, I rode it home from work.

This, for me, was no small feat. I was sweaty when I arrived at the Metro station in Pasadena, because I have not ridden a bicycle in forever. I had to take the bike on two trains, taking elevators to both, and had to stand the entire time whilst on the train because I needed to hold up my bike. At least that meant I didn’t fall asleep on the train, though, like I normally do. Instead, I got to read my book and look cool, too ;).

All and all, a good first experience.