Sunday, August 9, 2009

Fingers and Funnels

My Year of Yes brought me to a Finger Eleven concert Friday night. The Festival of Friends was on at Gage Park and normally I only stop by for some deep friend dough. Although the people watching is pretty interesting - all of Hamilton's finest show up in varying forms of beer t-shirts and cut offs, most pushing strollers.

I didn't realize that I was friends with an angsty emo teenager but this one asked me to go since Finger Eleven is "like, one of my top favourite bands...ever". The park was packed and we wriggled our way to the front. I'm sure everyone loves standing behind tall people that have just stepped on their blankets.

Now, I don't know who Finger Eleven is and if I've heard their songs I've most definitely thought it was one of the other bands that sound exactly like them. Nickel Finger Sum Plan Faber 41 11. So, I spent most of the time just trying to look like I fit in. Which I don't.

I have probably been to a dozen concerts, most of which I'm too embarrassed to list here, but at concerts like this I usually end up feeling uncomfortable. I stick way out.

I don't know the words, I don't enjoy thrashing my hair around, I don't smoke, and I can't really make that "Rock Out" hand signal very easily. Friday night was no exception to the odd ball out syndrome. There was an old man beside me who lit up the fattest joint I have ever seen. Along with my angsty emo teenage friend, I think 85% of the people around me were high. And maybe because I had the look of a narc, no one offered me any. I had to settle for the second hand high that followed me into the morning.

I never know what to do with my hands. I wasn't wearing a Ticats jersey or a concert tee or even a baby doll dress. I don't enjoy being hit on by Dude Drinking Budweiser. I kinda wish I was sitting down. I keep feeling for my money in my back pocket, convinced I was going to be robbed. It's so not a good scene for me.

Pop concerts are a totally different story.

To put me back in my element and perhaps as a result of the second hand munchies, I insisted on deep fried funnel cakes. We piled the "fruit" and whipped cream on and binged until the paper plate gave out. Aaah, that's better.

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