March 20 | House of Blues, Boston | The Pogues*
Prologue: A couple of years ago (back when G worked for a British company and I rode his coattails as often as I could when he went there for meetings) we wandered into a pub on a little side street in London. As a non-British non-drinker, I was always fascinated by the whole pub experience (do I choose where I sit? do I walk over to the bar and shout my soda order? is someone going to yell at me? and what about the crowd of people lingering outside? do I just walk up and make conversation? are they already in groups of friends?)
As you can tell, I overthink things.
This time it was irresistible. It was the night of the European Football Playoffs and there was a jolly chaos inside that we couldn't ignore. So we went in, joined in the happy cheering and jeering, suddenly die-hard English football fans by virtue of pub-adoption. I grinned through the whole jubilant exuberant night and left feeling like I had jumped, Mary-Poppins-and-Burt-style, into another world. Minus the penguin waiters.
* * *
I'm pretty sure we were the only sober ones there.
I'm pretty sure lead singer Shane MacGowan was the least sober one there.
I'm pretty sure 85% of the attendees were singing along with the band at the top of their lungs.
It brought back memories of that merry pub experience (multiplied by 10). There aren't any seats at the House of Blues concert venue, which makes for a lot of dancing and interactions. Lots of grown tough burly Irish American men dancing jigs, complete with locking elbows and spinning. Pretty much like this:
It was amazing fun. We laughed a lot--at the dancers, at the manic mood of the whole audience, at the enthusiasm--and went home giddy and glad.
. . .
*Day Five of Best of 09 challenge, reposted from here. Close runners up: our family night out at the polo match/Newport cliff walk, Lauren's sweet sixteen, WaterFire in Providence. My solo night out going to the Adele concert. The U2 concert with friends. Good times.
