Last night my husband and I went to a concert at a smallish club -- the first show I've attended in a couple of years. I've always considered myself moderately hip; most people assume I'm younger than I am and, thanks in part to an amazing local radio station, I remain a little ahead of the curve with great new music. After last night, all of my quasi-hipness faded away faster than you can say Kajagoogoo. I officially and unequivocally felt o-l-d; here's why:
* As I left for the concert, my super-cool 13-year old daughter told me, "You look, um... interesting, Mom."
* The door to the club opened at 8:00 and there were two opening bands. Most nights of the week, I am asleep before the time the first opening band hit the stage.
* Many of the people at this concert were born the year my husband and I got married.
* I've never seen so much texting in my life! You're at a concert, stop texting and pay attention to the music (or I'll ground your from that fancy-schmancy telephone that costs three times more than mine).
* My glass of wine cost $7.25! That's nearly two and a half bottles of three-buck-Chuck from Trader Joe's!
* I'm was the only one on the crowded club floor clutching a piece of stemware.
* We made our move to the coat-check during the encore so we could avoid lines and crowds.
* I found myself talking about seeing bands like The Psychedelic Furs and Echo and the Bunnymen "back in the day." Yeah, that phrase is pretty much the final nail in my Aqua Net-shellaced coffin.
I also know I'm old because I will spend this entire day recovering from my big night on the town. Perhaps I'll quickly fast-forward through this mix-tape of self-pity. Or maybe I'll just pop in some Morrissey and wallow around in it a while longer.