I’ve been listening to Vernon Reid’s most excellent guitar on my iPod the last few days (finally stopped listening to “90 Millas”), and it reminded me of going to see Living Color in concert about a thousand years ago.
Fox and I were on line outside the theater (Fox, where was that? Not at the Ritz, but where?). We were excited to have gotten there early enough to be assured of getting standing spots right up at the stage.¹ We were talking with the older guy behind us and the guys who were behind him, joking around, waiting for the doors to open.
When the doors finally opened, there was almost no movement, and at first no one could figure out why. Then the word moved down the line: they were searching everyone for weapons. We all shook our heads, thinking how insane it would be for anyone to bring a weapon, annoyed that we’d have to be searched. The older guy was pretty upset about it, got a little nasty in his appraisal of the people who’d decided the search was necessary.
Then we made it up to the door and what to our wondering eyes should appear? Turned out the older guy had a stun gun in his jacket. A stun gun. For what reason, exactly, would you bring a taser to a concert?
Yeah. And in answer to that question about why anyone would need to be searched before entering the concert …
is hosted by Stacey and Ruth at Two Writing Teachers.
In other, tanka-related news. I’m still writing. I think I’m only going to post when a) they are directly related to the day’s post or b) I particularly love them (not the case today). Tonight, however, I’m off to writers’ group to have a whole slew of them critiqued. (Nearly a month’s worth all at once. Should be interesting!)
¹ Oh, I feel another memoir coming on. Fox and I have such a concert-going history: funny, scary, telepathic … Maybe next week.