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.
|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.|
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. |
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.|
|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.
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.
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?|
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. |
Props to my sister and her stealth camera phone skills!