I Was Never That Young

© 2013 Vernon Chan, Flickr | CC-BY | via Wylio

Sean and I just got back from a One Republic concert (also featuring The Script and opened by The American Authors). It was a ton of fun and they're incredibly talented (and multi-talented… who would expect the lead guitarist to bust out a classical acoustic Spanish guitar solo in the middle?), but the concert tonight has led me to one inescapable conclusion:

We are old fogies.

The thing about One Republic is that they have an appeal that crosses generational divides. There were kids younger than 10 there (though I really think there shouldn't have been), as well as a few definitely old enough to be grandma types. In fact, one of the women--who was 74 if she were a day--was lip-syncing and be-bopping along to a couple of their most popular songs while her husband suffered silently in the seat next to her. When I get to 74, I want to be that cool. And in front of us there was a dad with his daughter and her friend, and I just knew he was thinking, "this is SO much better than a Jonas Brothers concert."

Unfortunately, Sean and I found ourselves in front of two incredibly enthusiastic tween girls. I don't know, maybe they were actual teenagers. I would have guestimated them to be around 12-13.

In case you haven't been to a concert lately, let me tell you: they're LOUD. You can feel the bass beat against your sternum, and until you get used to it, you might suspect that you're having heart palpitations.

Trying to talk to anyone involves cupping your hand around the other person's ear and yelling. Or you can just really EMPHASIZE THE MOVEMENT OF YOUR LIPS so that they can try to lip-read while you pantomime whatever it is that you're trying to say. Nothing can drown out the music.

Nothing, that is, but the high-pitched SHRIEK of a tween. A tween so racked with excitement that she cheers when the lights go down. Screams when the Parrot Bay rum advertisement flashes across the screen. Squeals when the roadies set the stage for the set. Shrieks (and shrieks, and shrieks) when the band takes the stage... and after every song... and during every song, and at the beginning of every song. I am nearly positive that some of her shrieks went super-sonic, and somewhere dogs were twitching and chasing their tails in response.

I ended up putting in earplugs not to deal with the loud music, but to deal with the ultra-sonic shrieking behind me. When The Script left the stage and the One Republic roadies were setting up, I leaned over to Sean and said, "I don't think either of us were ever that young." Sean gave me his trademark close-mouthed chuckle and half head-shake.

"I don't know how I'll handle all this excitement!" she exclaimed melodramatically behind us.

I have no idea how I'll handle your excitement either, young teeny bopper. I surely don't.