Third to the last row makes everything funnier

Tonight's experiences were the pivitol ones that led to this blog. Therefore I figured this would be the perfect place to begin my blogging journey.

It all started with 2 concert tickets which took Allyson (the name has not been changed because there is no innocense to protect) and myself to downtown Salt Lake City. Our eventful evening started at the CPK (if you don't know that acronym you don't eat good food as often as you should!) After a fabulous meal we realized we had 10 minutes until show time. There had been some discussion about hopping onto the public trax system to get us to Abravanal Hall, but decided we could walk faster. I tell you what we booked it and do you know what we learned? The train was faster. Oh well. We made it in time and got to our seats. We were located in the third tier. The air is really thinner up there, oh and heat really does rise!) After our speed walking adventure we were both sweating like pigs and breathing like wild boars.

The concert was for a charity (oops didn't really know that officially going into it) so there were some introductions of the rich people who were sponsoring the event (I think that's who they were, I may have tuned this part out because I was working on inhaling and exhaling at a normal rate still.) At last the time came and they announce the performer of the evening. The music starts and the random nut case in the front row starts dancing (Yes the ONE, remember we are in a concert hall not a sports arena with a fold out stage) (Question- how is it that crazy people always have front row seats??). So I laugh at that pathetic woman (with minimal jealousy at her show of overwhelming confindence in her dancing skills) until the singer walks out (the name is this time left out to protect the fashion flaw, I am sure it wasn't her fault!) and I don't know what happened to me but I was distracted from that point on. She was wearing a mini dress with long sleeves and lots of leg. The real distraction though was the at the bottom of the leg in the form of an ankle boot. Why were these shoes ever made? After debating why a person would wear those shoes with that dress we realized that either A. Our far away seats aren't painting a very clear picture or B. The ankle boots are the only support system she had to work with because, by gollie, those tooth pick legs are not helping with anything!

Next point of humor occured when we realized that the poor guy running the spot light was not use to performers that move freely about the stage. Don't worry though we cheered him on (seeing how he was basically right above our heads) heck had his hands not been busy we would have high fived him for his efforts. I did get to thinking though what an odd sensation it would be if you felt like someone was following you come to find out it was just a spot light that is running a second behind. Nice try spot light guy! Better luck next time.

Problem 3. Abravenal Hall is one of the best acoustical buildings in the state of Utah, so how is it that I couldn't understand one work of what was said??? I am pretty sure all the running and sliding though I must admit it was pretty impressive, just does not help ANYONE with diction and enunciation. At least she was in tune. The worst communication error came in the form of the term Disfunctional Family. Now there are not many things that phrase could be turned into, but there is at least one that is far to crazy to list here. I am sure Allyson would love to enlighten anyone that asks (after she blushes). (By the way Al the lyric is dirtier then I realized when I first posted it here!)

Now I know what you are thinking...this entry has got to be coming to an end, but in fact not quite yet.

As I mentioned above this was a charity event so as we left the venue there were volunteers holding baskets giving you puppy dog eyes and a pleading smile in anticipation of the contents of your wallet dumping itself into the basket. Well I had no money, because who carries money around anymore? All I have in my wallet is Mil Calones (Costa Rican money worth maybe 2 dollars) and I realize the well rehersed money pleas are going to be wasted on me. I decided though that if I were confronted I would put on my own puppy dog eyes and use my sweet inocent voice and say "I didn't know" "I wish I would have know" "I could have saved the children" "Do you accept Costa Rican money?"

So we stroll (a bit more causally this time) back to the car parked at the Gateway and after a nice drive through the parking stucture we finally find the exit. There is a parking attendant directing trafic by our exit and I tell you what HE WAS INTENSE. I am pretty sure he had a 3 centimeter and 3 second rule. Basically if you didn't get as close as he thought you should be (to the car in front of you) or if you didn't gun it and slam on your brakes in the stop and go traffic he would start waving his glorified glow stick and be screaming move along, move up, keep moving. I was about to ask him if different rules applied for the gas conscience people who didn't like the gun it/slam it option but I was afaid the glow stick would double as a weapon so we did as we were told and stopped just short of ramming the car in front of us 3 times.

Well after that kind of an exciting night we grabbed some diet cokes (we figured we earned them for all of our mockery of the night) and we headed home. I am pretty sure my life will never be the same.