Tuesday, June 26, 2012

Jimmy Buffett

I love going to Jimmy Buffett.

I solemnly swear that for every year he comes to my area, I will be there.

I love buying the tickets. Months in advance, the flurry of phone calls and text messages - the plan of attack. Who will be sitting at each computer. Contingency plans.

The jubilation when tickets are obtained. The exorbitant prices lost in the thrill of victory.

Then the slowly building excitement as the big day approaches.

For a month prior to the concert, I listen to nothing but my Buffett collection. (You may recall the videos of the boys signing Buffett in the backseat of the car).

Then, a week or so in advance, the second wave of planning begins.

Who will be bringing what food and beverage. Who will bring the lei's. Who will bring extra toilet paper.

I love driving to the venue.

As we leave NH I scan the highway for cars with shark fins on top. Cars decorated with paint. We wave and are instantly friends.

I love sitting in traffic waiting to be parked at the venue. As you get closer and closer to the stadium - every car has a smiling driver. Every radio blasting Buffett tunes. Even the policemen working traffic duty are friendly.

Once we're parked we descend on our little patch of parking lot like a team of navy seals. Wha-bam! the shade structure is up, the chairs are out, the grill is unloaded.

Oh, that first moment when I sit in my camp chair. You can't understand it unless you've been there.

I make friends with everyone in our row. There is a lovely 60-something couple to my left - he's a superintendent of schools in NH. She's a guidance counselor. They give me child rearing advice.

There's a hilarious group from RI across the way. We instantly bond over water balloons.

I love waiting in line for the port-o-potty. We make friends every time.

The day stretches out and time seems to slow.

I laugh all day.

And then, finally. The show.

When Jimmy takes the stage, I leap out of my seat like a deranged lunatic.

I scream. I dance. I sing at the top of my lungs.

When he plays my favorite song, tears prickle my eyes and I hug my poor husband and serenade him for the whole three minutes.

When it's over we snack in the parking lot and wait for the traffic to thin out. Once we get home I crash immediately in the nearest bed and sleep. Spent.

The next day I am forlorn. How will I ever wait until next year?

1 comment:

  1. lunatic parrot head..glad you had a good time..