east village idiot

I’ve been told by my friends that I have a 16 year-old girl’s taste in music. I strongly disagree, unless this 16 year-old girl lived in 1995 and wore Doc Martens. Unfortunately, the concerts I’ve attended lately haven’t helped me prove this theory wrong. At nearly every single show, regardless of the venue, I have felt like the oldest person in attendance. Even when the show is 21+, I’ve felt like everyone there was exactly 21 - and no older.

I first came to this realization in 2002, when I went to a Weezer concert. The only people in the crowd older than me and my friend were parents taking their kids to the shows. I was baffled. When Weezer put out their Blue Album, some of these kids were in kindergarten. I was in high school. When they played “Undone (The Sweater Song),” the crowd couldn’t get into it. When they played “Hash Pipe,” these middle-schoolers went crazy. Twelve year-olds shouldn’t even know what a hash pipe is, let alone be singing about one! Why was this happening?

It only got worse as the years wore on. I got older, but the crowds stayed the same age. I’ve been put in uncomfortable situations where drunk girls have started flirting with anyone in sight at a concert, opening the door for two illegal activities: underage drinking and statutory rape.

Last night was decidedly different. I was treated to the most unexpectedly silver-haired audience in the world: a Jimmy Buffett concert. There were Hawaiian shirts as far as the eye can see. And sure, there were some twentysomethings and thirtysomethings in the audience, guzzling their margaritas and dancing to “Cheeseburger in Paradise,” but after I sat down and looked down my row, I realized something: I was the youngest person in my row. I alone probably brought down the average age of the row by about two decades.

The silver-haired lady on the right was holding up a sign saying it was her “59th” - presumably her 59th Buffett show, as it was clearly not her 59th birthday. She danced rather wildly, leading me to wonder if she was trying out her new replacement hip. The guy on the left was wearing this festive Hawaiian shirt, but he was silver-haired and wearing earplugs. He also stood up exactly once during the concert - at intermission, to leave his seat.

The girl next to me, who didn’t seem much older than me, came back during the intermission and struck up some conversation with me. “You wouldn’t believe the bathroom lines,” she complained.

“Oh, I could,” I replied. “I think intermission is necessary at a Jimmy Buffett show. Everyone here has a bladder control issue.”

Jimmy Buffett’s jumbotrons often displayed scenes from his fans, Parrotheads, tailgating before his concerts. It gets to be a boozefest that can only be compared to New Orleans’ Bourbon Street on any night. One striking similar is the number of bare breasts on display. When these breasts were shown on the jumbotron, the silver-haired folks in the crowd looked away. I was waiting to hear one of them say, “well, I never!”

I honestly felt guilty getting up from my seat to get a beer. I would force everyone in my row to stand up, and I imagine that many of them have knee or joint problems that would make that painful. None of them even had a drink. I thought that was half the fun of a Jimmy Buffett show! A performer doesn’t sell his own brand of tequila and beer for nothing.

I had a good time, but I think I should put off my next Jimmy Buffett show for a while. Say, another fifteen years. Or until he plays a gig that’s not handicap-accessible.

This entry was posted on Wednesday, September 19th, 2007 at 3:02 pm and is filed under Drunken Antics. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.