Bumbershoot, Day I

Some mini-stories and mega-musings from my first couple of days at Bumbershoot (I have gone this morning for Day III, stood in line for a couple of tickets for later in the day, and am staring outside at the rain, contemplating taking a bath and reading a book, instead):

Day I, Morning

I had never been to Bumbershoot before, and I didn't know what to expect. I had avoided it (as I do almost every festival or major gathering) in my neighborhood for the last couple of years, but as I was recently re-un-funemployed, I decided to splurge and check it out. I knew that some of my friends were going to be attending--specifically on Sunday--and I live an easy four or five blocks away from the grounds, so I could walk back if I chose.

And I did so choose. I went before noon (gates opened at 11) and got a ticket to see David Cross that evening. Looked around at all of the young people and old people and ... people. And decided to flee back to my apartment.

I took a functional (if not spectacular) nap. Since my previous two naps of the week had featured nightmares, I appreciated blissful darkness.

Day I, Afternoon

I had decided to go see the All-American Rejects in the afternoon. Not because I know their stuff very well or because I simply had to see them, but because ... hmm. I don't have a good reason. Maybe in the hopes that it would be super-fun.

Well, it wasn't super-fun. But it didn't rain and it was OK.

As I txted TravelMate2000 during the show:

There are a lot of teenagers here. The bad kind.

I felt older than I normally do.

At one point, during a prelude to one of their songs, the lead singer said something similar to this:

"All the girls in the audience say, 'Dirty.' Naw... c'mon. Say 'dirty.'

Not like you say it to your little boyfriends. Say 'dirty' to me... a man. A twenty-five year-old, sexually active man!"

Wow. I don't know what is wrong with me that I was more fascinated than repulsed.

I think any guy who brags to younger women about being 25... probably shouldn't. Not that there's anything wrong with that age, but... yeah.

Day I, Evening

I spent almost all of Friday on my own. Viewmaster and I spent a bit of time together before I went and saw David Cross. She was waiting in line to see Kay Kay and his Weathered Underground, so I said I'd meet up with her. I got lost about four times in the what-should-be-three minute walk from the comedy stage to the EMP stage, and Viewmaster was, like, fourth in line. I cruised up, cut in front of the other couple hundred of people (I almost typed "hundreds"... would that make me British or functionally illiterate?) and enjoyed the show. I felt a bit bad because I had a GREAT view (close enough to spit, if I so chose, on nine of the 13 band members) and I knew there were much shorter people who had circled the concert on their calendar nine months ago struggling to see.

Oh, well.