Life Among the Never-Winged

Once upon a time I was writing a book called, "Just Another Love Letter", about angels behaving badly. Now I just quietly ask myself each day, "What the hell am I doing?"

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Location: The Rocky Mountain Empire, United States

My friends always knew I was going to hell. My only hope is that God likes good jokes and bad redheads.

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  • Monday, June 11, 2007

    Rehumanize Yourself*


    My dad and I took the light rail to The Pepsi Center for The Police concert. It's the first time I've ridden it, and it wasn't until I saw the reflection of the train in a row of factory windows that it reminded me – just a little – of the El, and something inside uncurled and relaxed and felt a little more at home.

    Which was a good thing, since my dad and I weren't really talking.

    No, nothing's wrong. It's just how it is these days. I come from odd sort of people. Our knees don't seem to bend when in close proximity to other family members, so we end up standing around a lot, usually right next to chairs, and not saying much. Also, we develop this thing in our necks where our heads stay permanently turned to one side, or cocked downwards, depending on the location of others in the room. Think of plants growing away, rather than towards, the sunlight. I think my parents still have eyes; I just haven't seen them in a while.

    So keep this in mind as I tell you about the day, and you'll have an incongruent sort of picture in your head. I think.

    We took the light rail and got to our destination three hours early. The plan had been to eat at a restaurant before the show. A good plan, except that we ended up having a large, late lunch and neither of us felt at all hungry. This fact did not change the initial early-arrival plan because, well, when my parents are around plans don't change. So. We went to a bar and had a couple of beers.

    And it was nice, having a beer in a bar with my dad, because it's something that I've never done before. And it was also strained, having a beer in a bar with my dad, because it's something I've never done before.

    So we sat on bar stools next to each other and confused the bartenders for an hour.

    Then for the next hour we sat on a bench outside, waiting for the doors to open. The beer helped and we talked. About The Sopranos, Battlestar Galactica, Nip and Tuck, Grey's Anatomy. All of which he has seen and I have not. We made fun of Paris Hilton. And we watched the people pass.

    My dad asked if I remembered the World's Fair in Knoxville. I did. He told me how he saw a couple of Japanese guys walk by wearing Ghost in the Machine concert t-shirts and he how he envied the hell out of them. He was thirty-five. And I thought, “Jesus. I remember when my dad was younger than I am now.”

    Our seats were good; only seven rows up from the floor. Being short as well as odd sort of people, there is a distinct advantage to not actually having floor seats unless they are the first row. The only drawback is that you do not share that rarefied floor space in which you can walk and move closer to the stage at will. There is security that prevents you from leaving the bleachers. As I told my dad, “I wish I were a big fat guy so that I could be a security guard.”

    Anyway, the opening band, Fictionplane or somesuch absolutely sucked. They sucked out loud. They sucked too loud. The singer at one point climbed onto a speaker and my dad leaned over and said, “Fall! Fall! Put us out of this misery!”

    And then there was The Police. There was that moment when they came on and I thought, this is either going to be wonderful or terrible and there will be no in-between.

    And my god they rocked. Meno,you'll be glad to know that Sting wore a sleeveless shirt. I myself was very glad to see it. Or rather, glad to see his shoulders. There are no finer-looking shoulders in this world.

    They sounded great, and did a lot of new versions of old songs. And finally, finally, I had my wish to sing Syncronicity and Voices in My Head with Sting. I could have E-Oh'ed and Cha'ed and E yo yo yo'ed with him all night. The best two songs though had to be Walking on the Moon (No surprise; that's Sting's favorite song so it was well-polished) and Wrapped Around You Finger, which they stretched into a slinky, spooky song. Yum.

    E. Oh.

    And then during one of the encore songs, Every Breath You Take, my dad tapped me on the arm, leaned over and said, “I think we can get onto the floor now if we're quick.”

    So we did. We Zenyatta'ed, security Mondatta'ed, and before you could say canary in a coal mine there we were on the floor up closer and more personal with Mr. Sting. Not close enough to catch sweat, but hey.

    Our little maneuver of course meant we had to keep moving, so we left before the final song. But it was worth it. We ran for the train, hopped onto the last car and sped back out to the burbs.

    Quietly. But smiling.

    *You're gonna see a lot of Police references for a while, so get used to it.

    Labels: , , ,

    15 people left me a love letter:

    Anonymous d-man wrote in a love letter...

    I can't, I can't, I can't stand loosing...

    4:43 AM, June 11, 2007  
    Anonymous d-man wrote in a love letter...


    4:44 AM, June 11, 2007  
    Blogger patches wrote in a love letter...

    I'm glad the concert was everything you hoped it would be.

    7:10 AM, June 11, 2007  
    Blogger meno wrote in a love letter...

    Whew, i am all hot and sweaty just imagining it. And smiling.

    I think he should have to wear sleeveless things by law.

    You description of your family is spot on. Lack of eye contact is prevalent in my family too. We'll just have to keep in contact and assume the person next to us is a family memeber because we are not going to check by looking.

    9:44 AM, June 11, 2007  
    Blogger Stucco wrote in a love letter...

    Speaking French in this country can be helpful? Who knew?

    2:48 PM, June 11, 2007  
    Blogger Lynn wrote in a love letter...

    I am envious that you were able to go to a concert (Police, no less)with your dad, and even if you couldn't look at each other, you two bypassed the security together. Absolutely awesome!

    4:43 PM, June 11, 2007  
    Blogger Schmoopie wrote in a love letter...

    Just the fact that your Dad is cool enough to go to a concert with you is great!

    Brandi Carlile is opening for Indigo Girls here in Seattle. I am so bummed that I couldn't get tickets. Maybe you could send me some good ju-ju so I may be able to win tickets! :) If I do, I am sending you a plane ticket to come with me.

    7:23 PM, June 11, 2007  
    Blogger Scott from Oregon wrote in a love letter...

    he starts to shake and cough...

    just like

    the man,

    in that book by Nabakov...

    Did Pops put you on his shoulders while you peeled off your top and rocked on...???

    8:12 PM, June 11, 2007  
    Blogger Nancy Dancehall wrote in a love letter...

    I can't stand losing you-ou-ou!

    It was, Patches. It was a lot of fun. Thanks!

    I'd run for office just to pass that law, Meno. ;-) How do families get like this? I'm attempting to answer that question over the next couple of weeks.

    Throws 'em right off, Stucco. Especially when you substitute a bit of Spanish in the middle.

    Bittersweet's the word, Lynn. We used to be close.

    My dad's cooler than Sting, Schmoop. :-) And if you win tickets, I'm flying out there! I'm running low on coffee and I need another sunburn.

    Scott? Ew.

    11:16 PM, June 11, 2007  
    Blogger Maggie wrote in a love letter...

    Well now I have a great use for my French in the U.S.! I wonder thoug if I can speak French and keep moving at the same time. Hmmm. Sounds like you had a great time - awesome.

    6:31 AM, June 12, 2007  
    Blogger Sober Briquette wrote in a love letter...

    It is so weird to have reached an age where I compare my life to my memory of my parents'.

    Ah, yes, Sting has a fine body. Sadly, I can't remember what he wore when we saw him with Annie Lennox (a much better opening act!).

    7:13 AM, June 12, 2007  
    Blogger Mona Buonanotte wrote in a love letter...

    OMG, are you lucky! I still have the hots for Sting. And those shoulders of his.

    Somewhere in a box I have a Police calendar from, oh, about 1982 or so. My god, I must find it and drool on it some more....

    2:29 PM, June 12, 2007  
    Blogger Cheesy wrote in a love letter...

    XCLNT!!! :o)

    11:19 PM, June 12, 2007  
    Blogger Mother of Invention wrote in a love letter...

    Nothing like a great concert to make you come alive! I still think Bonnie Raitt puts on one of the best. She's pure energy, funk, soul and raw emotion!

    7:58 PM, June 13, 2007  
    Blogger Da Duck wrote in a love letter...

    aaaaaaaaaw!! Sounds wonderful!!!!! I hope they come here. Maybe we can get tickets....hahahahahahaha

    1:47 AM, June 15, 2007  

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