Saturday, February 4, 2012

Styx in the Sticks

A couple of nights ago, Styx came to the little town near us.   


On the night of the big event, I found the last spot available in the lot.  While I backed into the cramped spot, we got to watch a lady in a white sedan try to get into the next to last spot.  In her third attempt to pull into the space, she slowly added a dent to her car while she crept up against a Ford Explorer’s bumper. 

Inside, the crowd ranged from teens to folks in their sixties.  A number of people were waving their freaky flags by wearing classic 1980’s clothing.  There were also many people dressed in a way that you couldn’t tell if they were going retro on purpose or if that’s the only stuff they had in their closets.   

Before the opening act, we looked for and spotted other people we know (that’s how small the town is).  During the opening act (who were from our even smaller town), I decided to get some refreshments.  I got in line and knew two people who were also standing in line (that’s how small the town is).  

Soon, a man and two women got in line behind me.  They were drunk and loud.  Not loud in the sense that they were causing me to plug my ears, but loud in the sense that everything that they were thinking and wanting to share with each other managed to be clearly heard by everyone in a twenty foot radius.   

One of the first notable remarks was from the loudest woman.  She sloshed up right behind me with her big hairdo and overdone makeup and squinted at the menu. 

“What the hell is a hummus cups?” 

Everyone in line heard her because we all instantly got smiles on our faces, but her two friends apparently didn’t notice and didn’t answer.  Undeterred, she continued to browse the menu and speak to no one very loudly.   

The fellow of the trio decided to interject his thoughts occasionally, which included being fascinated by a pair of glasses... that weren't his.  At one point, he blurted out the beautifully ironic statement, “Man, there are some weird people here.”   

Shortly after, Hummus Cups said, “I work here, I better shut up,” which was followed by the exclamation, “Three fifty for a hot dog? Are you f@#!ing kidding me!?” and then by the calmer question to the fellow behind the counter, “Can I get my employee discount?”  

I happily gathered my drinks and scuttled away, while Hummus Cups and her two friends continued to share their private thoughts with all the new people in line.   

The concert was awesome.  We waved our cell phones to “Lady” and sang along with “Renegade”.  We reveled in the 80’s cheese being served up by the guy who replaced Dennis DeYoung, while marveling at the youthful appearance of Tommy Shaw in his pirate shirt (who was referred to as ‘magically delicious’ by another concert going friend of ours). 

In the final set, while the stage lights were full on and the Styx guys were doing their thing, someone emerged from stage left and ran in the truncated sprint of a drunken woman wearing high heels. 

Yes! It was none other than Hummus Cups!   

She had lost her leather jacket somewhere along the way, but there was no mistaking my concession stand buddy.  As she ran across the stage toward Tommy Shaw.  Mr. Shaw, a veteran of arena rock concerts, seemed shocked for a moment while Hummus Cups grabbed him, kissed him, and ran off stage right. 

I wonder if she asked him for an employee discount.

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