Price Breaks And Heartaches
A journal of retail and failed romance
Al And Tallulah’s Wild Ride
The next concert in Al and Tallulah’s Wild Ride was Judas Priest and it was an awesome show. The concert was at the Saratoga Performing Arts Center or SPAC, it was an outdoor amphitheater created to bring culture to the city. The powers that be quickly learned that ballet, opera and classical music didn’t pay the bills so it soon became the site of numerous concerts- this week it was Judas Priest next week it was Jimmy Buffet. Metal or Marguritaville, now that’s what I call culture.
Seats within the actual amphitheater had sold out so we had gotten the less expensive but no less enjoyable lawn seats. Lawn seat meant you got there was early as you could and hoped you got a spot close enough to the actual stage that you could make sense of the teensy figures strutting around on the stage.
Tallulah and I got there early and we got a good spot. She was wearing cute white shorts, grass stains be damned.
(When I first asked the woman I would marry out on a date she would also be wearing white shorts. The must be a weakness of mine.)
We lay back on the lawn and watched the clouds pass overhead. We made small talk, the details don’t matter, but it was sweet and pleasant. Then I closed my eyes and let a feeling of bliss and peace wash over me.
Tallulah let me have those few moments of bliss before she stuck a blade of grass up my right nostril. I sneezed wildly for what seemed like forever.
Once I had caught my breath she asked me, “Are you all right?”
“I think I had an out of body experience.”
A few make out smooches later something soft and powder smacked me on the right temple and went rebounding into the growing crowd of lawn seaters.
“The Hell?” I said.
“Incoming!” Tallulah shouted as she pushed me down.
Another volley of marshmallows flew back and forth through the crowd and rained down on us from the lucky bastards up in the nosebleed section of the amphitheater.
And you read that right, there were marshmallows flying everywhere.
“What the Hell is going on here?”
She laughed, “Marshmallow war!”
I couldn’t believe what I was hearing, I couldn’t believe people were wantonly wasting snacks. Even now I can’t, I could understand pitching candy corn or black licorice at strangers but not this.
“Everyone brings marshmallows and throws them.”
“Then why didn’t we bring some ammo?”
We kept our heads down as sugary shrapnel zipped this way and that. Occasionally one would land close enough for Tallulah to gabbed it and pitch back into the crowd. “I had some,” she explained, “but they went stale.”
“Oh,” I nodded understandingly, “you wouldn’t want to hit someone with a stale marsh mellow and leave them with open smores.”
Arrrrrgh! yourself. That was a good joke.
As I said before many of my old friends had fallen by the wayside since my love life had blossomed, in the summer that was even more the case. Now some of them were already lost causes- Adrian had a romance of his own going on and Gordon had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth leaving nothing but angry creditors and outstanding warrants.
Kevin K. Hanson and his entourage however were still around and always asking me to do one thing or another with them. One hot summer in July I brought Tallulah to Kevin's annual pool party.