Don't Wanna Be Your Monkey Wrench

For Christmas I gave Ryan Foo Fighter tickets. Ryan loves the Foo Fighters. And I knew he would all but freak over the tickets. Which he did. Which is also why I got us floor/general admission tickets. I knew when I bought these tickets that I would not enjoy this scenario. Sweaty bodies pressing themselves upon me, pushing and shoving, is not my idea of a good time. I'm in my mid-thirties, ok? But floor/general admission also means you're closer to the action and this was for Ryan. I was trying to think of others and be filled with Christmas spirit and stuff.

The moment we arrived the kids behind us were talking about how many bowls they should have smoked before the show. And then people blew smoke in my face. And then a strange man hit on Ryan. And then the shoving began. And the pushing. And the suffocating. Most of the show I could only see the sweaty armpit of the large man in front of me...the large man who hadn't showered in a few days. And several people were kind enough to grope my butt without my permission. And everyone felt free with the cursing and the screaming.

But ok, the band was great (what I could see) and Dave Grohl was hot (from what I could tell) but mostly what I learned is the one thing I've known for a long time.

I.
Do Not.
Like.
People.

P.S. 2008, I still hate you.