Earlier this year, Mike and I had some credits on StubHub and I put Mike in charge of spending them. I did have one caveat: no sports. I obviously love me some sports, but we go to a lot of baseball & college football games and I thought we should do something different. Mike spent some time going over the LA-area calendar and then said, “I found the perfect event – Fleetwood Mac.”
I became a music fan listening to my dad’s records. I used to grab the albums that looked interesting and sneak them up to my room to play on the record player I shared with my brother. Because of this, my musical tastes can sometimes skew somewhat…older. Like any good eighties kid I worshipped The Go-Go’s, Debbie Gibson, Wham, and Madonna, but I secretly knew all songs by Billy Joel, The Eagles, Led Zeppelin, Joni Mitchell, and Fleetwood Mac.
I love Fleetwood Mac. My sophomore year of college, I was at a USC football game and during the halftime show, Mick Fleetwood (the drummer) came out to perform with the USC Marching Band. I leapt to my feet and went totally crazy. I looked around at one point and while every single student around me was sitting, the older alums were all standing and rocking out. Mike thinks that’s a hilarious story, so when he suggested we go to a Fleetwood Mac concert, I thought he was teasing me. Then he showed me there were seats available in the twentieth row, and I hit “purchase” so fast I almost broke the keyboard.
The concert was last Wednesday, and I was almost as excited to have a night with just Mike as I was to see the show. As we walked into the arena, it became very obvious that once again, I was one of the Mac’s younger fans. I didn’t care, though – I told Mike it was like hanging out with my parents’ friends. What I did mind, however, was not thinking to wear my mystical scarves à la Stevie Nicks:
After grabbing some snacks (and having someone ask me when I was due, grrr), we made it to our seats right when the show was starting. The women behind us (and I say this with only slight exaggeration) lost their minds. Mike looked mildly concerned. I could see him mentally calculating how he would carry the two of them out of the arena when their brains inevitably liquified. Meanwhile, I was like, “YES! I am with my people!” And that was never more evident than when the music started and the entire concert became the Fleetwood Mac Sing Along Hour. You may remember that singing along at a concert is my idea of a good time, and Mike’s worst nightmare. It seemed like every person in that arena was singing with Stevie and Lindsey – except Mike, of course.
This is a terrible iPhone photo, but it does show how awesome our seats were:
We were on the floor, which I normally am not a fan of because everyone stands on the floor during the entire concert, and since I’m short I can’t see the stage. But, most of the people around us were on the older-side, so there was a lot of sitting! One Grumpy Gus even yelled, “Sit down!” at everyone sitting in front of him. I never saw him but in my head he looked like Ron Swanson.
The older crowd started to rub off on me, because towards the end of the show I started saying things like, “Why does it have to be so LOUD?” and “I really should have worn shoes with better arch support.”
Despite the rampant singing along and aching feet, Mike and I had a blast. We didn’t get back to our house and my parents (who generously baby-sat) until after midnight, which is well past this newborn mom’s bed time. It felt great to get out for a few hours with just Mike – hopefully we don’t have to wait for another “oldie” concert before we do it again.