Saturday, November 12, 2011

Death By Mosh Pit Is Not How This Mom Wanted To Leave This Earth

Went out for pizza and beers last night, then to go see the Expendables in concert. My husband told me that they were a punk/reggae band.I think I was expecting a bit more Reggae, and a little less mosh pit inducing punk.
We are almost 40 years old. Our kids listen to the Expendables, but a friend asked if we wanted to go, so we went. A designated driver, some pizza, a few beers, why the heck not?

Why the heck not? I will tell you. My husband every once in a while tries to relive his youth, and let me  tell you, his youth was Craaazzzyy! He was by no means a 'good boy'. He listened to punk music, surfed, skated, ran around the town like a juvenile delinquent, and completely disobeyed his parents (sweet B & B) And that brings us to the present day. He is now a responsible grown man. A husband, father, homeowner, general contractor with his own business. When he does surf it's on a longboard, not a shortboard. If he jumps on a skateboard, it is usually when one of the kids is on theirs and he wants to show them 'some moves' from his youth. He has the utmost respect for his parents, and punk music is partly to blame for the fact that he cannot hear as well as he did when he was young. He still listens to it as loud as can be when he is tooling away in the garage, but the only difference is now he has a wife yelling out to him to 'turn it down' instead of his mom (How did she do it?) Mosh pits are a thing of his past, but you can take the boy out of the pit but you can't take the pit (Mosh) out of the boy.

Long story short, he moshed!! Or pitted?? which is it? Who cares!! Then when he decided he needed a refill on his beer, he came to find me.

This whole conversation was yelling in one anothers ears over the music:

Husband: Babe come out and dance with me!!

Me: What?

Husband: Come dance with me, they are playing mellower music now. Come ON!


Husband: Come on! - pulling my hand, and dragging me to the center of the crowd. Where he then proceeded to gyrate behind me in a manner best suited for a Color Me Badd song. 'I Wanna Sex You Up', is definitely the signal he was sending to me. But hey, I went with it. To me any husband who dances, no matter good or bad, is a god send. Some are just such sticks in the mud, but mine does it with a smile. 
***** We proceeded to dance, if that is what you want to call it, to a beautiful, romantic, sweet little song, that goes a little something like this*****
Oh I
I packed this bowl for two
And I
I'm gonna wanna smoke it with you
Yes you know it is time
For us to sit down and unwind
I know the feeling, I know the feeling
So stay with me tonight
Gonna kick back relax 
Make sure the ganja's packed............... 

*** You get the point of this wonderful love song, obviously meant for a sweet little stoner couple. And if that was my husband and I, I am sure I would be all over this smooth jam! 

Well, within seconds this mellow little diddy, changed tune. The bass player had a different look on his face, it went from a stoned happy look, to an angry, I just smoked a joint laced with PCP and I'm gonna kill you look (slightly exaggerated, but I want you to really feel it) The crowd starting swaying, then the sway turned in to shoves, and the shoves turned into punches. And so it began, the F*ing mosh pit, and little ol' me was smack dab in the middle of it. My husband, who is major alpha male, started swinging his elbows, clearing me a path to get out of the pit of death. I ran into the ladies room and just took a breather. I had to calm down, mostly so that I wouldn't go back out and rip my husband a new one for dragging me in there in the first place. 

The night continued, he moshed away (or pitted away?? Really, what is the proper term?) relived his youth, lost his shoe in the pit, found his shoe in the pit, made friends with ALL of the security guards (well, he thought he was establishing life long friendships. The security guards were just establishing peace in their bar) I was alive, we left with the same amount of people we started with, no man left behind, and all was good in the world.

.................Until February when we see the Red Hot Chili Peppers, or March when we see Flogging Molly. I think the nosebleed section watching RHCP, we will be safe from any crowd rushing. And Flogging Molly at The House of Blues, general admittance, well we will see. I will keep you posted.

And hopefully my hubby only relives his youth every so often. I don't think his poor body can take it! 

1 comment:

  1. Re-reading this one and loving and laughing even more this time around! Been missing your wonderful written words! More, please.


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