>Today I am recovering (actually my feet) from my adventures last night at The House of Blues. We told our daughter that we would attend the concert last night, and although both my husband and me just wanted to chill at home, we wanted to keep our word to her and attended anyway.
Just before the concert, we saw our daughter and her boyfriend. We talked for a few quick minutes and off they went with excitement to film the night’s events. I thought, how cool is that; age 20 and filming on stage at a concert held at a casino in Atlantic City.
While my husband and I waited outside the entrance for my cousin, I couldn’t help but notice the difference in the unspoken dress code of the, what I refer to as, the teeny boppers! I thought I was dressed down with my jeans, chained spaghetti strapped knitted top and 3 inch heals, but I couldn’t be further off. Ohm god! At 44, I felt like I had stepped into a time machine. Wait! Maybe I shouldn’t blame it on my age and should just consider that I am just a tad bit out of touch with the latest fashion styles. I think I do okay at work, but the social scene is a completely different world. Nevertheless, most of the kids had the same jeans and sneakers on that we had on earlier in the day- darn, we didn’t have to change our clothes.
Because we stood in the VIP line, when the door opened, we got first crack at being directly in front of the stage. I’m still not sure if that’s a curse or blessing; I guess it depends on who’s performing. I felt like a groupie at a Bruce Springsteen’s rock concert. Being that close isn’t typically my first choice but, to see our daughter on stage, we wanted to be as close as possible. Before the show started, she came out and saw us again. We also met the 50 something year old mother of the opening act—we just happened to be standing side by side. I was very happy to see his mother there as well. I firmly believe that when we support and encourage our kids in their endeavors, especially in the arts, that it’s a confidence booster and nothing feels better than knowing that your parents support (not necessarily financial either) you.
Dosage was the opening act for B.o.B and Lupe Fiasco. He received a nice welcome. The kid was impressive! I liked his lyrics- positive, encouraging, motivational, and I could understand every word. As he rapped and danced across the stage, my eyes were fixed on my daughter, who appeared to be oblivious to the fact that she was on stage with a huge audience. She was focused and in her element. I was impressed and proud of her for “doing her.” We stayed for the two following acts. The crowd intensified and slowly but persistently pushed up on us like we were suppose to move the front line up to the stage. Wow! Times have changed or did I just miss this before? I still got my groove on and enjoyed the performances. I didn’t however; appreciate being spit on by the lead guitarist for the main act! Yep!! You read right! He took swag of water and spit it back out at the crowd like we were thirsty or something. What the hell? He was an excellent guitarist but could have left that part out of the act. That junk was not cool! Only the “old heads” in the audience seemed bothered. Hmm… While jamming on the floor, my cousin pointed to the balcony, where I looked up to see my daughter, who’d finished filming, waiving and smiling at us! I would give a million bucks to know what she was thinking at that moment.
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