Somewhere on this beautiful, rainy night, a poor, sodden soul is trudging along Route 364, trying to hitchike his or her way out of the weather that completely crashed the party over at the Shell's first concert of its new-and-yet-somehow-not-so-improved season.
I will not even pretend to care about what kind of music is played by a group that goes by a name like "Rat Dog" or "String Cheese Incident" or how overpriced their tickets were at the new-and-improved venue that I will eternally insist on calling what it has been, is and forevermore shall be: the Shell. But I was happy to see a nearly full parking lot, and even two scalpers hawking tickets at the gas station on the corner. It triggered memories of the good ole days when Dave Matthews and Phish and Lilith Fair and the Barenaked Ladies took over the town, plaguing traffic up and down the major highways, and playing loud enough to hear the music all the way over on 5 and 20. Too bad opening night had to be ransacked by the rain.
I dare say Mother Nature was voting -- or would it be more accurate to say venting? -- her opinion on the musical lineup this summer. You'd think after a $10 million renovation, the place might pick up some business, but apparently we've all got another think coming on that one. I don't mean to imply that this season holds a lame lineup, but it's just so frustratingly similar to the lineups of the last 3-4 years, during which attendance has plummeted. I mean, let's face it: there are no American Idols, no Yo-Yo Mas, no one in the league of Eminem or 50 Cent, no Kenny Chesneys, and no Michael Buble'. I adore the RPO, and the 1812 Overture/Cannon/Fireworks night is an annual staple that makes the Shell the Shell. But it can't make up for the "gotta be there" headliners that don't seem to be there anymore. So maybe the rain was appropriate.
Speaking of, I got caught in the torrential downpour, and despite the parking space one row over and four slots up, despite the umbrella, by the time I made it inside Wal-Mart, I might as well have gone straight to the domestics section to buy a towel. I was the quintessential wet noodle.
But then, oh my word, rain and soggy shoes were forgotten, because there it was, between the card section and the cans of Koolaid. Stacks and stacks of No. 2 pencils, and Bics, and Crayolas and whatever is passing for a Trapper Keeper these days, not to mention the all-important wide-ruled spiral notebook.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but did we not just wrap up high school graduation weekend less than 15 days ago? So what is with this rush to get the boatloads of school supplies out? (Added an older, wiser woman I know: And why does the Dollar Store have the Christmas decor out already?) Wait. Don't tell me. The "Christmas in July" sale, right? I guess that's supposed to explain all the marketing madness.
Or maybe the full moon does.
1 comment:
Some of the fondest summer memories from my high school and college years are of sitting on the FLPAC lawn and enduring the kind of rain that prompted me to wonder where CCFL was hiding the ark.
Don't think of this recent storm as a thumbs down from above. Consider it a christening.
Post a Comment