While surfing Facebook today I saw that tickets for a June 5 Austin show of Foster the People were going on sale at 10am. I nearly spilled my coffee from shrieking and jumping up and down. I haven’t been passionate enough about a band to see them live since my last Jimmy Buffett show in ’04 before I had kids (Having kids, you see, tends to curb ones’ concert-going tendencies, unless we’re talking about Yo Gabba Gabba or Joe McDermott).
At 9:59 a.m. I sat at the computer with butterflies in my tummy and a credit card in my hot little hand. FTP are beyond popular (with good reason! I could listen to Torches ALL. DAY. LONG.). Would the tickets sell out before I got through?
After furiously refreshing the page from 10am to 10:04 a.m. I finally got to see the tickets for sale. There were 17 left. Score! BUT…they were around $100 each.
Now, back in the day, I’d been known to spend a pretty penny for Jimmy Buffett tickets. Seeing Buffett live is less a concert than it is a pilgrimage one makes to dive deep into a once-in-a lifetime, tropical brain expansion. Or, for some of us, a ten-times-in-a-lifetime experience. Unless I get lucky and try for #11. Which could happen. When my kids are grown. It really depends if Jimmy plans to tour during his geriatric years.
Anyway, I love Foster the People. Their catchy beats are so good that it can take hipsters like me a mere 10,000 listens before we realize we’re gyrating our arthritic hips–in public, yessirree–to a song about a kid who’s shooting other kids. In my book Torches is akin to an old fave of mine, New Order’s Substance (God, love it.).
But, no matter my love for FTP, $100 seemed like a lot to pay when I started to consider the one-hour drive to Austin on a Tuesday night. And the potentially horrendous parking I’d face. And the general admission tickets, which probably meant bumping up against sweaty millennials (which, admittedly, could be a good thing…). And drinking warm draft beer out of plastic cups. And getting my Fit Flops covered in dust while sweating my ass off in whatever inappropriate and unfashionable outfit I chose to wear in the more than likely sweltering South Texas heat.
So while I turned 40 in January, December 16, 2011 will go down in infamy as the day I officially got old. Because sitting on my couch, blasting Torches out of my Bose speakers, and sipping a glass of Viognier sounds oh, so preferable. And besides, I need easy access to my Geritol.