hømetøwn

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If you were to ask me what my greatest accomplishment in life is, I would probably say one of two things.

One: Not killing everyone at my dumbass high school.

Two: Convincing my mother to let me go to the most anticipated concert in all of human history.

You may think I'm exaggerating about this concert. But trust me, I'm not. There are very few concerts upon which I would bestow the title of Most Anticipated In All of Human History. This was one of them.

Convincing my mother to let me go was a challenge in the way that World War Two was a disagreement. She's the type of woman who wears her hair in tight buns at the top of her head, and her glasses on a chain around her neck - one of those strict schoolteacher moms. You know the type. The stiff, sharp-eyed, you-can't-leave-the-table-til-you-eat-all-your-peas, no-boyfriends-til-you're-twenty type. I had to stretch the truth a bit for her to even think about it. The conversation went something like this.

Me: So there's this concert.

Her: Did you do the dishes?

Me: Yeah. But there's this concert, and Angie has tickets. I can pay for it myself. Do you think I could -

Her: What did I tell you about the silverware? They go in handle down.

Me: Right, yeah, sorry. But about the concert.

Her: What band will be playing?

Me: Fall Ou-

Her: Not one of those angry depressing trash bands, right?

Me: ...

Her: Why're you holding it like that? Put the knife in the dish washer. Handle down.

Me: ...

Her: Why're you giving me that look, young lady?

Me: No reason.

Her: Now, what band were you talking about?

Me: Uh. It's, uh. A Christian band, I think. I can't remember their name. But uh, they're great. Really great. So can I -

Her: Hmm. Not a bad idea. Maybe exposure to some real music will help you grow out of the whole sad, angry screaming genre.

Me: ...

Her: Careful or you'll snap that fork in half. How much?

Me: Sixty-five dollars.

Her: I suppose it could be good for you.

Before you get all judgmental with me for lying to my mom, let me just explain something. This concert was important. Like, important, important.  I would have sold both my legs, my house, and any other semi-valuable thing I owned to go. I would have sold my soul to a crusty man on a street corner. I would have eaten an entire tomato like an apple. I would have given up sarcasm for an entire hour. I was desperate.

I think part of the reason I needed to go so badly was because of where I was. I lived in the center of a small conservative mountain town, where country music was an acceptable form of entertainment and people used the word y'all unironically. The pain was indescribable. So yeah, I told my mom I was going to see a Christian band instead of an alternative rock concert. Sue me.

Connor picked me up in his filthy blue truck at five o'clock to go. He and Angie were the only other people in the town who liked my music, which was probably why they were my only friends.

Angie was already in the passenger seat so I climbed into the back. I didn't mind. There were two seats up front and three here. At least I had some space.