Tonight at Ravinia Lisa and I saw Ben Folds and Rufus Wainwright. They are both interesting songwriters in different ways, and they were also both solo, playing mostly piano. I’ve been developing an affection for both their work recently, and this show cemented that enjoyment even more.
Ravinia itself is, as promised, a beautiful place to see a big concert. There are trees surrounding the whole area, including many throughout the lawn, and surrounding the pavilion. The weather conspired to make us really appreciate the experience — the sun came out just in time for a gorgeous sunset to cast golden light over the stage. Ben Folds acknowledged the change, inspiring him to play George Michael’s Careless Whispers. How could you possibly go wrong?
Needless to say, I’m even more excited now to see Lyle and his large band at the end of the month than I was before. We’ll be on the lawn then, so we’ll need to get there early to stake out a spot.
It’s a good thing the show was good, because there was one part of the evening that sucked like I never would have imagined: the train ride. (Parental Advisory: Explicit And Probably Excessive Ranting)
I will likewise post here, as I have no livejournal account and am currently feeling to lazy to make one. :)
Ah yes, never underestimate the power of stupid people in large groups. I've certainly been in similiar situations, and while our instincts tell us to find the lowest common denominator and counter attack accordingly, it's better to just stand there and do nothing. Unless, of course, Mongo...er, Isaac, is there to unleash fury wrought of pure balsa wood power. The stand-there-and-take-it tactic, while not satisfying in the least at the time, at least feels better afterwards because you know you have retained your maturity and dignity.
Posted by Jeff at June 24, 2004 11:26 AM
Bro,
I wanted to post this on Live Journal since, I think, you set up an account for me. The only problem is that I can't remember my password. Blast! Oh, well. I'll get it later.
Your story of the train ride was funny, but it also made my brotherly instincts kick in ("They make brother mad. Make ME mad! KILL FRAT SCUM!!!"). Of course, even given my lighening-quick reflexes and physique carved from balsa wood, I still would've likely been beaten senseless by the drunken bastards. Odds are they were greater in both number and mass, plus, being dulled to pain by large quantities of cheap alcohol, they wouldn't feel the effects of my blows until morning. Too late since I'd be in a coma by then. However, if I saw shit get thrown on you and Lisa... and then heard you getting made fun of... I would have likely been sent into a fit of rage befitting the Incredible "Hawk." Perhaps I'd be dead, but at least they'd be in the hospital. Maybe it's a good thing I'm in Guam.
What I think you and Lisa need to do, as they did in the fine film I saw this evening, is bring a sack of dodgeballs with you when you go to see Lyle Lovett. If there's a group of belligerent imbeciles raising havoc, whip one of those bad boys straight in their face. You may have to run afterwards, but the satisfaction felt from hearing the resounding "SMACK!!!" as it hits the fucker's face at 100mph, breaking his nose, and spilling his skunked PBR all over himself, will be well worth it.
Posted by Big Little Brother at June 20, 2004 8:56 AM