*warning big rant to follow*
I THOUGHT I would resurrect my Grumpy Old Woman series, it has been a while, June actually, and not because I haven’t had grumpy moments, oh I have, but I had an evening of it last night so no better excuse to pull out my gingerama pic.
Tetra and I had been looking forward to the Feist gig for ages, they were playing in the Tripod and have been sold out for a while.
The band themselves were brilliant, she is fantastic with such a beautiful voice, but the venue was absolutely awful, woeful.
We were crammed in like sardines, that surely must have been against fire regulations if anything had happened last night.
The evening itself started off well, Tetra and I went for pizza and then headed up to meet with Mr Mulley and Alexia before heading into the gig.
It was absolutely jammers, seriously packed, with ten-deep people at the bar though in fairness you expect that. Then the gig started and so did the people at the back, with their talking.
If you haven’t been to Tripod before there is the main hall, half of which is raised and is the bar area. There is another bar at the other side and it made sense, to me anyway, to keep the other side open and close the bar within the main venue itself.
But they didn’t and somehow people at the back thought their innane chatterings added to Leslie Feist’s amazing voice, they didn’t. At times Tetra was turning around and telling people to shush.
We managed to find a spot where we could just about see the stage, well just about, I spent most of the time looking at the backs of Mr Baldy, Mr Smelly and Mr Long Flipping Hair.
I was constantly pushing my hair off my face only to realise it was Mr Long Flipping Hair. I didn’t realise Mr Smelly was actually Mr Smelly until he high-crossed his arms right in front of my nose and Mr Baldy somehow managed to have so much more room than anyone cos he was moving all over the place.
Oh and here’s an open message to Little Miss Pushy, you nearly knocked me over not because as you said of my large bag, it was because you were a pushy shite. And yes I did notice that you managed again to shove me out of the way as you returned to your spot. I also noticed the parting of the sea of people as you made your way through. It’s funny how no one else managed to nearly knock me off my feet as you did despite my large bag.
And Little Miss beside me how on earth did you manage to shift me over from my vantage point where I could just about peer over the shoulders of Mr Long Flipping Hair and Mr Smelly. Being about six inches smaller than me I don’t see how my spot suited you better.
I found myself trying to deal with the moving crowd in the same manner than I do walking down Grafton or Henry Street. I try to walk in a straight line and not veer off from it. Course it doesn’t work I either end up being banged on the shoulder by a passerby or I end up walking along abandoning my straight line plans and dodging left and right out of people’s ways. How do those people seem to manage to walk in the straight line while no matter how I try I can never manage it.
So last night in the same ilk I tried to stand my spot and it didn’t work at all.
On top of all that the bar were running some crazy rules where drinks are served in plastic glasses while bottles are beer are served with glass bottles! Now this makes no sense whatsoever.
If I were so inclined I could do damage with the glass bottle. On top of all that I was drinking wine which was sold in the little bottles. Because I still had wine in my plastic glass I asked could they give me back the lid. Apparently it is house policy not too, which I questioned as being stupid and despite having been given the lid before. Incidentially the next drink had the lid on it, nothing like a bit of consistency.
So I was back in the hall, balancing a glass and an open small bottle of wine, a bottle of beer, my big bag and the non-budging people.
We were so far back that I only managed two shots of Feist, one of which I am kinda okay with and then we retreated to the other bar where we could hear them but not see them. Though seeing as how we couldn’t really see them anyway it seemed like the best plan.
All this had Tetra and I talking about how we are just getting old. Twenty years ago we would have been holding onto the bar at the front. Seeing as it is twenty years later that isn’t the bar we want to hold onto.
So we decided that we want to return to the Las Vegas type shows, where you buy tickets for a booth, with a lamp on it and waiting staff bring you drinks, hey even a supper. Once we eat we want to be entertained. Considering last night’s tickets were €25-ish, I’d pay €50 for a seat at a gig. Hey but then I’m just a grumpy old woman with sore feet.