The Surprise

So there I was, drudging away through a late shift that I took so a co-worker (Julie) could take her husband out to the Heart concert at King Center in Melbourne. I had a migraine that was two days old and I'd been drugged up on Darvicet and Tylenol off and on for the duration so far.

I got a call from my director. "I have Julie on the line for you."

"Julie?" I asked in complete puzzlement.

"Yes, Julie that works with you. You know, JULIE."

"Oh, OK. Thanks." Pause while she transfers Julie to me. "Thanks for holding; this is Kat." (My pseudonym at work is Kat.)

"Hi Kat, this is Julie. So, how's your head feeling?"

"Still pretty bad, but I'm making it. What's up?" (Aren't you supposed to be rockin' your tail off at a concert about now?)

"Well, crap. I was hoping your head felt better. Michael and I aren't going to be able to go to the concert because he's not feeling well and Tammy just gave me the OK to relieve you so you can have my tickets and go instead."

Pause to digest.

Pause a little more.

"You mean tonight? The Heart concert? The band I adore and was very sad that I couldn't afford to see?"

"Yep. I can be back in the office in about 30 minutes which should give you enough time to get there in time for them to get on stage. Tammy said you can leave as soon as I get there."

"Can you hold on a second?" Pause while I put Julie on hold. Then, shouting across Support "Yaw are you still here?"

"Yes, " comes back faintly from ASP.

"Come here please." Pause while he comes over. "Whatcha doin' tonight?"

"Why, what's up? How's your head?"

"My head's terrible. Do you want to go to a Heart concert for free at King Center? I won't take her tickets if you can't drive me. I can't be trusted right now."

"Uhhhh... Sure. When?"

"Opening act starts at 7:30, Heart comes on at 8. I can leave as soon as Julie gets here--about 30 minutes from the minute I get off the phone."

"Uhhhh... OK."

"Julie, see you in 3o minutes. You totally ROCK!"

Thirty minutes later, Julie arrived and off we went, flying down I-95 so I could enjoy one of my all-time favorite groups. And I did, and there was much rejoicing. Yaw enjoyed it too, for which I was thankful since he canceled his plans to drive me there and watch it with me. He sang along with a couple of songs, so I knew he liked at least some of their music. And as usual, they did a few covers. "Rescue Me" by Tom Petty, "Love/Rain on Me" by The Who, and two covers from Led Zepplin which I can't remember now but rocked my butt off while they played it.

I also partook of some of my typical people watching. Since my head hurt so much, getting up and dancing like I wanted to do wasn't an option, so I observed the people who did.

One row below us and a couple of seats over was a couple that to me appeared to be reliving their glory days as rock hounds. She had her hair in a high pony tail, wearing all black body tights with a loose black t-shirt that fell off her shoulders, and black Candies on her feet. He was in shorts, a casual button shirt and a backwards ball-cap. They were having a blast. I felt sad for them that they needed so desperately to relive their former lives, and yet jealous that they were so carefree and uninhibited while they simply enjoyed the music with their whole bodies. Their dancing was energetic and enthusiastic and just what I hope I would be doing if I felt better.

A few seats to their right was a man watching the show by himself. He didn't seem connected to anyone around him, but it didn't seem to matter to him at all. He did what I call "The White Bread Dance." He would slump his shoulders slightly and sway to one direction, bob there a couple of times, then repeat in the opposite direction. He was having a blast, without or without accurate rhythm.

Below him and a few more seats over to the right was a pair of ladies that I felt certain were part of a sorority; probably one of the more reserved sororities where the women are expected to be very quiet and polite and proper. Not all sororities are like that, but I have known a few that were, and these ladies definitely fit the type in my limited view. In their way, they were having an absolute blast. They were up and dancing (the rebellious floozies) and singing along with the music, and even put their arms up in the air and attempted to bang with the beat. Their dancing was more of a bend-at-the-knee-and-follow-with-a-shoulder sort of thing that was totally unrelated to the beat of the music. This was as wild and outrageous as they could get. They WANTED to be just like the (possibly slightly tipsy) couple down to my left, but they just couldn't get rid of those darned reserved habits. But they looked perfect and they didn't ruffle their hair or clothes while they danced, and as I said, in their way they were having a blast. So bravo to them, too.

I really wish I'd felt like getting up and being silly and dancing just to have fun. I know someone else would be observing me in much the same way I observed these people. They'd probably note that I have SOME rhythm, but I'm not consistent, and because of my size and shape, moves that I think are sexy probably look silly to them. And I wouldn't care a whit because I'd be having a good time and moving (sort of) with the music. And I'd be hoping that they get up and dance and feel the music with their bodies too.

I satisfied myself with tapping my feet, bobbing my head (TERRIBLE idea with a migraine, by the way) and tapping my hands and fingers on Yaw's knee, my knee, the armrest between us, whatever else was in reach. And of course I sang along with nearly every word, every guitar riff, every note from Ann's flute (the ones I could reach--Oh, wait. I could reach all of them). I enjoyed it to my fullest ability under the circumstances, and when I came in to work today I thanked Julie for the hundredth time and said to tell Michael that I was so sorry he had to miss, but I was so thankful to have gotten the chance to go.