I HAD A DATE FRIDAY NIGHT!
HOLY COW!!!
Hurried home from work to get ready. Chas had taken the
kids over to Mom's already, where they were busy making cookies with Grandma.
Off to Paradise, which is nearly an hour away. Dinner at Izzy's Burger
Spa -- where the hamburgers are treated better than other places, one can only
imagine. The last time I went to a concert was with Cheryl, at the same venue,
and Izzy's was the diner of choice then, so it seemed only fitting to take Chas
there. It didn't disappoint. $1 burgers, onion rings and beers came to under
eleven bucks -- am I a cheap date, or what? The floor show entertainment
consisted of a strategically-placed Marilyn Monroe doll near the ceiling,
affording a view of her undies, and also a young lady dressed as a hamburger,
waving to passing cars. This is big stuff to largely home-bound oldsters like
us.
Then to stand in line for half an hour outside the Paradise
Performing Arts Center. The place looks rather like a barn, but it's neat and
clean, with AWESOME acoustics, comfy seats, and not one bad seat in the house.
Standing in line outside gave us a chance to enjoy the cool mountain air, and
look at our fellow concert-goers. Most were in their 40s and 50s, some were in
tie-dye. But since we were there to see the legendary Dave Mason, tie-dye
wasn't out of the question.
The warm-up band -- Matt McBride's Red
Horizon -- was local, and they were very talented. They actually performed two
songs with a didgeridoo, which was cool but got old fast. A didgeridoo can't
change key, so neither could the band.
But Mason and his band were
wonderful (although Mason was perhaps the worst-dressed person I've seen in
months, and I live in Orland, mind you). Old Traffic stuff, old Dave
Mason stuff, even some new stuff. "World in Changes," "Shouldn't Have Took More
Than You Gave," "Only You Know and I Know," "Feelin' Alright," etc. His band
was top-notch, but the conga player was completely extraneous, as far as I could
tell. He was having a great time, but he couldn't be heard. My fascination
with the conga player was cemented, however, when I realized he looked JUST LIKE
DAN QUAYLE. Couldn't take my eyes off him. (Now, the conga player in Red
Horizon was AWESOME, and appropriately mic'd. For anyone who remembers, he had
been in the Chico band Spark and Cinder years ago -- a band I always wanted to
hear but was too young to get into the bar venues they played. Also, he looked
nothing like Dan Quayle.)
Funny to watch the audience
in this retirement community -- polite as a Japanese crowd, at first anyway.
When a couple of middle-aged women headed for the spacious area in front of the
stage in order to dance, a geriatric bouncer in a red blazer hurried down to
shoo them away. Well, after that either someone clued Red Blazer in to how rock
concerts work, or he didn't like walking in front of the stacks, or he gave up
in fear or throngs of 50somethings gettin' their groove on -- because eventually
the whole area in front of the stage was packed with dancers. Chas and I didn't
join them. We were happy just to relax and listen to great old music, feeling
the throb of the bass and drums reverberate through our cores like back in the
old days when we weren't ancient old farts. I was so tired I was nearly asleep
-- hard to imagine, I know -- but had a great time anyway. I was thrilled to
notice that at least four people remembered to bring their Bic lighters for the
encore.
Chas affected a strange
posture the middle of the concert, sort of slouched in his seat and leaning on
me. I didn't think anything of it, but he told me later that he had a hamstring
cramp, and when his leg seized he kicked his water bottle. Off it rolled toward
the stage, ka-bump, ka-bump, ka-bump. The one thing he most needed was
water at that moment, and he kicked it. Man, are we old farts. At least we
don't look like Dan Quayle, though. At least, I don't.
* * * * *
Dates are tricky as there is no way to ensure they will go smoothly! Unlike getting
DMEPOS bonds.
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