Kev and I went to a "private" concert last night aboard a San Diego Hornblower yacht. The word, "private," to us at least, denoted fewer people than the 1,000+ who showed up for this thing. Which was fine, because good music is meant to be enjoyed by many, but there was something about this group, in that they were all drunk and stupid.
Drunk and stupid makes for great people watching, if you're not among the drunk, which we kind of were. Anyhow, the multitude of Elaine dancers out there boggles the mind, but if they're having fun, I don't so much mind the visual assault. So things are pretty good. I like Collective Soul, the band who played, and the lead singer's hair was indeed something to behold as he wielded it with great dexterity and joie de vivre.
So my point is (can I HAVE anymore run-on sentences? [please say that in your best "Chandler" voice]), when it was time to get off the boat, everyone went freaking psycho. I kinda thought that most people were like me -- polite and unwilling to elbow an old lady in the gut because she accidentally stepped on your toe. But these people seriously freaked me out -- folks who acted like they were hillbillies at a hay sale. Are there really that many people out there who don't give a flying shit about anybody but themselves? Last night, I thought so and it was really a bummer.
We left the top deck of the boat during the band's last song and waited by the door to disembark. We were somewhat concerned that we'd told our babysitter we'd be home by 10 and it was getting to be WAY past that and she was planning to go out herself that night (I don't EVEN want to get into how old that makes me feel). So we're quietly waiting for the captain to open the damn door. But he's not. And so we stand. Then the throngs amass. Everyone of them must have had claustorphobia, b/c they needed to get out and get out fast. But see, the door wasn't open. No brainer, right? Not if you're drunk and stupid.
So there's people fighting behind us, others elbowing their way to the front, people heaving and breathing and beating and bleating on all sides. Truly and seriously, the whole thing was a sad sad commentary on people. Who are these people? They live among us, they go to see "Snakes on a Plane" on opening night, they all voted for Bush. But so many? In one place? I started twitching. Kev started twitching. Then, when the girls next to us started rowing with the girls behind us, Kev lost it.
He put on stern face and told them to grow up -- in the voice he uses on Alexa. And guess what? It worked. They all looked sheepish. For about a second. Then the doors opened and oh Holy Moses, all bets were off.
And as I looked back on the beautiful boat sihouetted on San Diego Bay, I so wanted to herd all those people back on the boat, lock em in and set the vessel adrift, ensuring that every port of call barred entry, so that eventually they'd have to eat each other to stay alive.
But no, i go home and check on the kids and pray silently that they don't grow up to be stupid drunks.