Jill asked for the story on the ticket guy. So, here it is. I bought my ticket for the Bunnymen show from a guy in my concert group. The idea of the group is to meet people to go to events with. It was just the two of us for this one. So, who is this guy? I didn't care. But I took a quick peek at his profile so I'd know him when I saw him. There was one small picture. He was okay looking. Indian perhaps. I had less than zero romantic expectations. And was determined to keep it that way. I should have been less careless. Should have remembered that I flirt a lot more when I'm not interested.
We agreed to meet at the corner of Irving and 15th. I got there first. A few minutes later, I saw him walking up the newly formed line on the sidewalk. I called out his name. He stopped, looked a little surprised, then joined me. He immediately pulled out the ticket and I gave him $50. I didn't try to weasel my way out of paying. We stood in line together and chatted about music. Who did we like these days, what bands have we seen, how were they? He was shy, conversation was awkward. But, we were both trying.
Once inside, we stayed together. The Irving (now Filmore) is great. It was built in the 1860s as a Polish dance hall. In the 90s it was converted from a night club to solely a music venue. It had the worn-out luxury one usually finds in these old places. The fancy tin ceiling, chandeliers, red carpet, mahogany walls, gilded woodwork. Decorated with the obligatory silk-screen concert posters of the famous bands who've played there. The first floor was a lobby and bar, with a huge double staircase leading upstairs to the stage. Up there, the walls and floors were painted black. The only luxury still left on the second floor was the large crystal chandelier and black painted tin ceiling. Around the sides of the audience floor, up one flight, was a catwalk with brass handrail and grill. It had room for people to stand 2 or 3 deep. On the left side of the catwalk, chairs and name tags were arranged for the VIPs (guests and very expensive tickets). The rest of us had to stand. I stood for 4 hours. Impressive for someone over 30! And not my favorite thing to do anymore.
Most people hadn't arrived yet, this older crowd isn't into waiting around just to get closer to the stage. The two of us situated ourselves in the center, about 8 people back from the stage. Not bad. Once we had a good spot, my new buddy went to get a drink, he asked if I wanted one. No, thank you. When he got back, I asked him how long we'd have to wait for the show. An hour. Ugh. Then he suggested that maybe I should get a drink. Cute. We continued to be friendly. He laughed at my jokes. There was no spark between us, which was a good thing, until I scared him off.
He is smaller, 5'7ish and thin. We'd already established that we were the same age because of our common pop music history. We exchanged career info. He is an engineer and founder of an internet start-up. He knew someone I worked with. (Manhattan is a tiny island, this happens a lot.) We also talked about people in the crowd, I was amused by the Asian contingent of men who wore sunglasses, inside, clearly in homage to Mac, who never goes without. At one point, Ticket buddy asked me why I wasn't on Facebook,? He abashedly admitted that he had "Face-book stalked me." Oh, really.
I gave him my full speech on the evils of Facebook. How I'm not interested in emailing people I knew 20 years ago. And, can't stand the drama it creates. Some women get into fights over what they put on each other's walls. 'What was that supposed to mean?' 'Was she trying to insult me? ' 'So-and-so posted on Debbie's wall, why won't she post on mine? What a B****!" That might just be a chick thing. Regardless, the most important thing is that I like my worlds kept apart, keep my different groups, different. For example, how would you turn down your mother's friend request? Or, the man you're dating? By friending them, they now have access to each other, when the twain should never meet! Not until it's necessary. Even without the aid of Facebook, my mother googled the man I was dating, the Writer. Oh, yes, she really did. It was horrible! We fought over it for a week. (That's a story for another post.) The point is, I don't need to facilitate that kind of thing. And, then there are the boyfriends. They shouldn't be able to check each other out, but on Facebook, they can. They can size each other up, get jealous, tell me what's wrong with my taste, etc. It's all just unnatural and unnecessary. He chuckled.
About half-way through our wait, a man who stood to our right started talking to me. He was 47, (yeah, he told me that). He wore a wool plaid golfing cap, T-shirt and jeans., cool enough He said I should get up closer to the stage when it started. Said he could get me up there and began telling me how to do it. I said I had been in wilder crowds than this and I knew my way around. He was not impressed. He asked where my friend was, I pointed to Tix-guy who now stood slightly behind me. The golfcap dude looked at Tix in examination. He told him he was a lucky guy, "You don't find one like this everyday", indicating me. "Man, you better hold onto her. If I were you, I'd take her down the aisle right away. Tomorrow." He went on and on. I rolled my eyes, he's one of those. Tix looked mortified, he replied, "Uh. We actually just met."
Golfcap looked even more impressed, he assumed Tix had just picked me up, like he must be a smooth operator. (He went to college in the 80s, he might actually use that term.) Golfcap told him he needed to take me to the front, that I wanted to be closer. I said, I did want to be closer, "I want ed Mac to sweat on me," then laughed. Golfcap said, "See. see. What did I tell you?" Then, he held out his arm and told me to take it. What? Why not? So I did. Golfcap started pushing through the pair of big lesbians in front of me, pulling me behind. "No, that's not right. These are nice people." I stopped and let go. He shrugged, came back and kept talking to us, well, me.
When I emptied my Pepsi he told Tix to go buy me another beer. "She's not drinking beer." "So. All the more reason. Go get her one. You'll need it for later. Believe me, with one like that." Har-har. Golfcap took my empty can from me and threw it on the floor. Classy. But I did appreciate it. "You can't hold that all night." True. I asked him where his date was, to deflect his growing inebriated attention. He said he was dateless. Where was mine? Oops, I walked into that one. I pointed to Tix, "I'm with him." "Uh . . ." Tix was speechless. Golfcap nodded. "Oh. He looks like a nice guy. Shy one. But nice." "Yep." Tix was clearly uncomfortable. Surely, he knew I was just protecting myself from this guy, to keep him from getting too friendly? Of course he did. Golfcap excused himself to go "find his friend". He didn't return. No surprise. With my little rabbit date, I was a now a waste of his time.
Tix stayed just behind me for the rest of the show. I made comments to him sometimes. Near the end of the performance, before the encore, he said, "Hey. I have to go for a minute but I'll try to come back here. If I don't, I will definitely email you." "OK. Good luck." "Yeah." He looked guilty. Then disappeared.
Odd. He didn't return. But, he could have, the crowd was thinning. So. What happened to my Bunny Buddy? First, he probably had to pee because of the second Budweiser. Then just went home . Or he went home because he is old and was tired of standing there. Or, nah.... did I? --Maybe I had freaked him out by calling him my date and he was afraid I'd expect something from him. By leaving early, he avoided all awkwardness. He didn't have to worry about me making a move, or me wanting him to take me home or kiss me or go out to a bar, or whatever. Yikes. I didn't think about that before. I should've told him I wasn't serious about the date thing. I felt a little bad about it.
He hasn't emailed. I knew he wouldn't. I know a kiss-off line when I hear one, it's the "definitely" that gives it away, it really means 'never'. People only add 'definitely' because they want to convince you of their sincerity, hoping you won't notice the lie because of that extra word. Unfortunately, now I can't email him because he'll think I'm coming on to him. Then again, maybe he's just being a dude who has better things to do. Anyway, he was a nice guy, reminded me of a sweet little rabbit. It's a shame, I could use another music buddy. I still might email him, let him man up and deal with it. But, I probably won't.
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