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the_dala at 09:55am on 04/07/2004
the_dala at 09:55am on 04/07/2004So Jimmy Buffett = my favorite concert so far.
I guess I understood the phenomenon of Parrotheads, but I didn't really get it until I was surrounded by thousands of them. Best costume was a three-way tie between the pirate sitting in front of us, the girl in the giant cheeseburger bikini, and any guy in coconut shells. Best tailgate party was the one with a kiddie pool and the real burning tiki torches. The crowd was mostly baby boomers, which I am used to. Every person of age and under forty or so was falling down drunk, most of them before the concert even started. I mean, this is the level of wastedness you would expect to see at HFStival -- it was kinda annoying, and it's not like most of them are even going to remember a moment of the concert the next day. On the other hand, I really really wanted a margarita. Dad said no. I said anybody else in his family would have bought me one. He said that's because everybody else in his family is an alcoholic. I couldn't argue with that.
Concert itself rocked like a rocking thing. I wore my boots (god only knows why), but I took them off after the first song because I could tell we were going to be on our feet most of the time. He played a bunch of songs I didn't recognize, but then I mostly know the greatest hits and live albums we have. And no "Fruitcakes"! But he did do my Top Five -- "Come Monday," "Margaritaville," "One Particular Harbor," "A Pirate Looks at Forty," and "Tin Cup Chalice" (the set closer, acoustic and gorgeous). The monitors played videos as well as shots of the performance -- a 'best of' sequence taken in parking lots (Best Battery Operated Device category included a dildo race), a little sequence of Jimmy traveling the globe. I'm sorry, but can I be Jimmy Buffett? He has, as he put it, done this summer job for thirty years, plus he's gotten to do all this really cool stuff with icebergs and volcanoes and sailing and flying.
It was hell getting into Nissan, but not too bad getting out again since we were in the back of the huge empty paddockparking lot.
Oh, and I had an encounter with somebody who admired my t-shirt. Think of a baked-looking young guy with a stoned voice the quality of Jeff Spicoli's: "Hey, that girl's in love with pirates...that's awesome, man..." I smiled gently at him and carefully backed away.
And of course my mother has to spoil the residual good mood by storming into my room and bitching at me first thing in the morning. This is what door locks were invented for.
Today I'm going to do nothing but write. And tomorrow I'm going to do nothing but write. I plan to have PotC on in the background over and over. Good times.
I guess I understood the phenomenon of Parrotheads, but I didn't really get it until I was surrounded by thousands of them. Best costume was a three-way tie between the pirate sitting in front of us, the girl in the giant cheeseburger bikini, and any guy in coconut shells. Best tailgate party was the one with a kiddie pool and the real burning tiki torches. The crowd was mostly baby boomers, which I am used to. Every person of age and under forty or so was falling down drunk, most of them before the concert even started. I mean, this is the level of wastedness you would expect to see at HFStival -- it was kinda annoying, and it's not like most of them are even going to remember a moment of the concert the next day. On the other hand, I really really wanted a margarita. Dad said no. I said anybody else in his family would have bought me one. He said that's because everybody else in his family is an alcoholic. I couldn't argue with that.
Concert itself rocked like a rocking thing. I wore my boots (god only knows why), but I took them off after the first song because I could tell we were going to be on our feet most of the time. He played a bunch of songs I didn't recognize, but then I mostly know the greatest hits and live albums we have. And no "Fruitcakes"! But he did do my Top Five -- "Come Monday," "Margaritaville," "One Particular Harbor," "A Pirate Looks at Forty," and "Tin Cup Chalice" (the set closer, acoustic and gorgeous). The monitors played videos as well as shots of the performance -- a 'best of' sequence taken in parking lots (Best Battery Operated Device category included a dildo race), a little sequence of Jimmy traveling the globe. I'm sorry, but can I be Jimmy Buffett? He has, as he put it, done this summer job for thirty years, plus he's gotten to do all this really cool stuff with icebergs and volcanoes and sailing and flying.
It was hell getting into Nissan, but not too bad getting out again since we were in the back of the huge empty paddockparking lot.
Oh, and I had an encounter with somebody who admired my t-shirt. Think of a baked-looking young guy with a stoned voice the quality of Jeff Spicoli's: "Hey, that girl's in love with pirates...that's awesome, man..." I smiled gently at him and carefully backed away.
And of course my mother has to spoil the residual good mood by storming into my room and bitching at me first thing in the morning. This is what door locks were invented for.
Today I'm going to do nothing but write. And tomorrow I'm going to do nothing but write. I plan to have PotC on in the background over and over. Good times.
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