Wouldn't that have been embarassing if I had worn my mohawk tonight?

So, I figured three and a half months between blogs was long enough to create a desire for more from my loyal readers (I'm talking to you Nathan).
Last Wednesday Brigitte and I went to see a band, Muse, perform at a smallish venue here in Nashville. It was basically a large ballroom with a capacity of around 1600. I did not expect much of a turnout for the event, but I ended up being surprised by how many people were fans of the band.
For those of you unfamiliar with Muse, I refer to them disparagingly as "Radiohead Lite" which infuriates Brigitte, but makes me giggle. If you like Radiohead and simply can't wait for new material, check out Muse and you'll feel like you are listening to a great Radiohead cover band that plays all of their songs badly because you don't recognize any of them...
Some background info on the concert...
When Brigitte was pregnant we had tickets to see Muse at an even smaller venue in Nashville but ended up not going due to concerns of the smoky environment and loud music and what that could possibly do to the baby. Therefore, when she heard they were coming back I simply could not say no (somehow going to see "The Incredibles" the night we were supposed to see Muse the first night did not satiate her desire to see them). Brigitte made me get up at the awful hour of 10:00am (I was in my summer sleep schedule at the time which meant that I went to bed between the hours of 6:00-7:00am) to get the advance order tickets only available to the three fans Muse has in the Nashville area. So, up I got, groggily stumbled upstairs to the computer and hurriedly tried to get in first (as far as I know, I was the only one to buy these advanced tickets) before the other two people sobered up. I was successful.
Onto the show...
Brigitte insisted that we leave an hour and a half early so we could get good "seats." It is important that you understand that due to our devotion the tickets that we were "lucky" enough to get were the general admission floor tickets...it was a large dance floor. Therefore, by getting there early, we ensured that we would be close enough to be surrounded by other sweaty, smelly individuals who did not have any concern for their feet or the actual sound quality of the performance (there were seats available in the balcony...they looked very cushy and they had people to help you to those seats with their fancy flashlights but they weren't available for pre-order because ceratinly the three of us who pre-ordered wouldn't want to sit while rocking).
We arrived in time to be able to easily spit on the band which I was promptly reminded that I was not allowed to do. We proceeded to stand there, uncomfortbaly, for an hour waiting for something to happen.
While we were waiting I noticed that the majority of the people who were filtering into this non-smoking environment were between the ages of "just hit puberty" to "just hit the age where I can legally get as drunk as I want, regardless of what my parents say about it." I was excited...
As it grew closer to the time for the opening band, The Likes, to come out and beg us not to hate them the venue began to play a lot of loud music which I did not know. Some members of the audience sang along, others talked loudly about how "awesome" it was that they had cell phone reception in the venue so they could continue to send text messages to their friends that I imagine went something like, "Dude! U wont believe what I did today. I got totally trashed and missed class. Dude! That prof is totally the suxors!"
Suddenly, in the middle of their message some obnoxious song came pumping through the speakers that everyone around us began to sing along to. I looked left and right and every person in the vicinity was nodding in agreement that this song rocked and that is was important that they sing along. Neither Brigitte nor I knew the song and I knew that I was in for a long evening.
After The Likes limped off stage (they actually weren't that bad) the audience began to buzz with anticipation of Muse appearing. After 30 minutes the buzz intensified...then weakened. It grew again 40 minutes after the opening band left stage ... then weakened. A full 57 minutes after the opening band left the stage Muse decided to grace us with their appearance.
Now, my thoughts on this are as follows: If it takes you 57 minutes to accomplish a change over, perhaps you should skip the opening band and not make your audience wait so long...
Muse began playing. They were loud and everyone sang along (except me...the sound was so bad that even the songs I recognized I couldn't comprehend). I was pretty close to deaf at the end of the show and between the crowd surfers and the psuedo mosh pit that sprung up near the end of the show I was in a pretty foul mood. However, I tried to put on a smile becuase I knew that Brigitte had had a good time.
To my surprise, on the way back to the car Brigitte yelled (because we were both deaf), that she didn't think that she needed to see them again. I asked why and she said that she thought that she had outgrown the "scene." I agreed. Somewhere between the age of 25 and 28 I seem to have gotten very old. The music was too loud, the sound quality was unbearable, the kids around us were obnoxious and my feet hurt.
I'm not sure how, or when this occurred. When we were living in Tallahassee, Brigitte and I went down to Orlando to see The White Stripes (another band she adores that I could do without). However, I genuinely had a good time, in spite of the way too drunk lesbian standing next to me who kept trying to burn me with her cigarette as she swayed along to the calming sound of "Seven Nation Army." While it was loud and filled with alcoholics, it was still fun. This show was not.
Therefore, I have come to the conclusion that I have officially grown up. I don't know when it happened and I'm not sure that I like it. When I saw the crowd surfers and the mosh pit my only thoughts were, "Oh, these kids don't know what it was really like back in the day," followed by anger that they were upsetting the show for me by thinking that I wanted their feet and / or butt in my face (literally) so that I could somehow assist them in having a good time.
My concert going days may be over. Or maybe I will simply have to hold out for the next Simon and Garfunkel Reunion tour. I imagine that I won't have to yell to talk to Brigitte when it is over.
Enjoy Arugula ... because that spinach will kill you!