Life is short; buy the tickets.

It’s been a little less than three months since I've written a new blog post. Woof. That’s about two months too long if you ask me. But, in the last three months, I’ve had some of the most professionally and personally busy days of my life, spent a few weeks on crutches from a near-ankle-break, went to Disneyland with besties, ping-ponged between California, Texas and Florida, tackled the holiday season, and then did a swan dive straight into 2023. But, I’m back! And it won’t be another three months until you hear from me again, I promise.

Alright, now that we’ve got the formal stuff out of the way, what to write about next? It’s been a little while since I've added to my “People of the….” series, so, what better time than the present?

One of the other things that happened during my three-month blog hiatus, was that Dallas and I got a visit from none other than my beautiful friend, Olivia. A few days spent with her is one of the best ways to spend a few days. She and I shopped, drank, ate and went to a Maren Morris concert - which was a great time and the inspiration for this post.

I’ve been to approximately 2,834,017 concerts in my life, so I consider myself an expert on the topic and extremely qualified to write an entire post on concert-goers. It doesn’t matter if it’s country, jazz, rock-n-roll, or pop, there will forever and always be, the exact same types of people at these concerts. It doesn’t matter if you’re sitting in the nosebleeds, in the front row, on the lawn or in the second section back, there will forever and always be, the exact same types of people at these concerts.

First up, we have the woman scanning tickets at the door. Short, stout and extremely jolly, usually with a name like Rosie. She loves this Friday night side hustle, loves ushering everyone through the doors where she patiently waits for you to figure out how to swipe the screen so she can scan your next ticket and loves giving directions when you ask her where to go. Everyone likes Rosie.

Next is the Party Bus Crew. You know this crew. You’ve probably been part of this crew before. This is the crew that when the bus pulls up in front of the concert venue, the doors open up and men and women who are clad in cowboy boots and flannel shirts and holding red solo cups come pouring out like ants out of an anthill. They unload the bus, scan their tickets and head in. And if you’re anything like my group of friends, the moment you walk through those gates, the men head straight for the bar and the women head straight for the bathroom, because it has been 48 minutes since we last peed. Obviously it’s time to go again.

Then there’s the bartender. Unfortunately, this guy isn’t typically the friendliest guy in the land, but dealing with drunk concert-goers several nights a week, I’m not sure I’d be the friendliest either. He’s used to screaming over the music, has a bottle opener strapped to his forearm with a sweat band and has a dirty dish cloth hanging out the back pocket of his jeans. Just a pro-tip for you; when you get to the front of the line, know what you’re going to order and order it with conviction. And for the love of god, please don’t ask him what types of wine he has. His answer will be three words - “red and white.” And I know for a fact that’s not the type of wine description you’re looking for.

And then there’s everyones favorite - the friend who’s had just a smidge too much to drink. If you’re on the lawn, she’s sitting down in a sea of people standing up and now she might be crying a little. And not crying in an “OMG-this-song-hits-part-of-my-soul” kind of way. She’s crying in an “I’ve-had-too-much-to-drink-and-now-I’m-going-to-unpack-years-of-resentment-towards-my-friends” kind of way. We love her. She’s the best. Invite her out more often so she can do this again.

Up next are the fans who know all the words (i.e., me, and I won’t apologize for it). We are an elite group of fans. We know all the words, to all the songs. We know when there is going to be a break in the artist’s voice, when the keys are going to change, or when there’s going to be a guitar solo. And we will find each other in the crowd and proceed to sing to each other, strangers or otherwise, for the rest of the show. Again, I won’t apologize for it.

Across the aisle, or perhaps one row in front of you, is the sweet couple holding onto each other while swaying back and forth to the music. These people are cute, if not a little cheesy. But, they know the words, they’re having a good time, and seem to really be into one another, so who am I to judge? Have a good time, you two!

We can’t forget the security guard. This guy puts up with no bullshit. Like none. And he makes it very clear that he is not there for a good time. Eyes straight ahead, hands clasped in front of him, silently scanning the crowd with no bob of his head, no shimmy of his hips, no singing and don’t even bother trying to get him to crack a smile. He takes his job very seriously but hey, we’re all a little safer for it so no complaints from me. I just wish he could at least sing the second part of the duet I’m trying to sing with him. We would all be winners then.

Then there’s the woman trying to cheat her way to the front row. Here’s the thing about this woman. Her seats aren’t “bad.” She’s sitting at the front of the second section back but is desperate to get a closer look so she waits until about three quarters of the way through the show and then starts to inch her way towards the front. Row by row, down the aisle. Ma’am, of course the security guard is going to notice you. I just told you that he puts up with no bullshit and is not there for a good time, so you might as well turn around and go back to your seat now, before things get a bit embarrassing for you.

And last, but certainly not least, the girl singing with her eyes closed, or worse, with her finger pushing on one of her ears so she can hear her own voice clearly. Girl, no. This is not your show. This is not your moment. This is not your time. Open your eyes, put your hands down at your sides and sing along in the same tone-deaf way that the rest of us do.

Here’s the thing about concerts. They are intended to just be a good time. A time you can relax, maybe have a few drinks with friends or loved ones, and just listen to some great music. No one goes to a concert, hoping to have a bad time and be in a bad mood. Pinky promise.

So, if you’re on the fence about going to the show you’ve been wanting to see… life is short; buy the tickets.

Here’s me and Liv at Maren back in October… The house don’t fall when the bones are good. ♥️ #IYKYK