Yesterday I woke up to the email
Hey! Want to join me at a Jack Johnson concert tomorrow night (Monday)?”
The only answer to that question was “what time do we leave?”
GirlFriend’s husband works at the SB bowl and got her 2 tickets. Sweet.
Since she got the tickets, I needed to treat her to a drink. But when I got to the window to buy the wine, I found a past co-worker who generously offered a bottle of Riesling! It was a perfect, warm evening and we meandered up to the top of the seating area to view our lovely town.
We had awesome seats and one of the ushers offered us cookies because my friend was the wife of her boss. Nice. We watched people trickle in and I recognized at least a dozen people. I am truly a resident of Santa Barbara.
I noted a scent of marijuana drifting through the air and my GF commented, “I wondered what that was. Well, what do you expect from a hippy concert.” The music was fun with a mix of his greatest hits and songs from his new compilation. The stage lighting was entertainment itself.
If I had eyes in the back of my head
I would have told you that you looked good as I walked away.”
We had seats 5 rows behind the wall; we could see everything perfectly. So when the drunk white middle-aged woman stood up dancing right in front of us, I was very unhappy. If she wanted to dance, she should have bought tickets in the mosh pit. We scrambled up to the row behind us so we could see the stage a little more. The husband of this woman was not standing and by the end of the show, she was hanging off of him out of sheer drunkenness.
Aside from the dancing white girl, the evening was wonderful.