Concerts are civilized now?

I like Train.

Granted, they're not particularly edgy.
Their songs are the ones your mom hums along with while in line at the grocery store. 
But they have happy nonsense lyrics and the occasional use of a ukelele.

Their sound is the equivalent of musical comfort food for me.

So last week, after a few months of planning, a week of enduring annoying queries from co-workers, ("Will they be playing 'I've Been Working on the Railroad?'"), and one adorable misunderstanding from my dad, ("If the train thing doesn't work out you could always fly Delta"), my sister and I made the trip to Atlanta to see Train in concert.

Mere hours before the show.
We are pumped.
In keeping with tradition, we were late, or at least horribly misjudged how bad traffic would be.

Line is... so long...

So we ditched the car in the middle of suburbia and proceeded to run the last mile to our destination.

Profuse sweating began immediately.
I should have suspected something was amiss as we passed lines of people carrying massive coolers and bags of "Gourmet to Go". But, this was an outdoor concert. Perhaps they were bringing a boozy picnic?

We arrived, shiny and out of breath. Andy Grammar was about half way through his set as we found our seats and prepared to scream our heads off.

Maybe it was because this was the first time in my life I was able to afford decent tickets, but something seemed off.

It was the tables we noticed first.

There are tables in the stands.
Well, Train does tend to appeal to an older crowd, we reasoned. And the fact that they have their own wine company would also explain the many bottles of chardonnay littering the tables.

But it didn't stop there. Apparently these swillers of wine were intent on getting both fancy and schmancy.

Confusion, shock, and dismay set in, as the people surrounding us began digging into their coolers and Whole Foods grocery bags to pull out cheese, grapes, and bruschetta. And wine. So, so much wine.

Of course there were also festive table cloths and fancy plates with colored napkins, that just happened to match the dress of the table's hostess. And naturally the look was completed with the addition of centerpieces and votive candles.

It's also possible we just stumbled into a shooting of Real Housewives of Atlanta.
The second opening act, Matt Kearney, also appeared confused by all the cheese and wine and said as much. A sea of flickering votive candles was the crowd's polite response...

Not the best pic, but you get the idea.
Fun Fact: When over a thousand people are opening bottles of wine and fancy funky cheeses,
the resulting odor is akin to the stank of a fart.
Meanwhile, Sarah and I sat, sans elaborate setup, in the middle of the well-dressed and well-to-do, feeling decidedly out of place.

Warp Tour this was not.

But finally, the sun went down, the stage was set up, and the speakers blasted the sound of a locamotive bearing down on us to signal the beginning of the Main Event.

My favorite thing, and the main reason I go to concerts, is to sing as loudly and obnoxiously as possible. I love the idea of hundreds of people coming together to sing along with music that makes them happy.

So of course we were immediately on our feet. Singing, hopping around, and screaming our heads off. Because that's what you do at a concert, dammit.

Although the table in front of us appeared confused that they were even at a concert...

Seriously, when did outdoor spectacles become so civilized?
For a moment I felt kind of sorry for the folks around us and their apparent inability to take in the awesomeness that was directly in front of them.

But then two seconds later Train started playing "Hey, Soul Sister" and I lost my fricking mind.

A couple in the crowd got engaged, the back of the house went nuts, someone knocked over a wine glass, and then another couple got married on stage by track pants wearing ordained drummer Scott Underwood.

Verdict: Love, love, loved the show!

And if you ever go to the Chastain Park Amphitheater, bring all the snacks and booze you can carry. Because management, in their infinite wisdom, has decided that bringing in outside food ain't no thang.

Also: free poster!
A river of wine.
No way!

Props to my sister and her stealth camera phone skills!

No comments:

Post a Comment