An evening with the police
So a couple of Sundays ago my husband and I went out on our first official post-baby date. We attended the Police reunion tour concert at the Meadowlands in New Jersey. And it went fairly well.
I didn't realize, of course, when I bought the tickets from a friend of mine (who lives in New Jersey) that the concert was in New Jersey. Also, the band wasn't scheduled to go on until, like, 9:00 PM, which is basically my bedtime these days. Yes, I am a total dorkwad now, and I freely admit it. But sleep = nicer mommy.
But, we determined we'd go anyway. After all, we'd purchased the tickets when I was still pregnant and optimistic that the wee one would be old enough to handle an evening without mommy and daddy.
Still, we needed a sitter. It had to be someone reliable who knew and liked kids. The family was out because they all live a thousand miles away. Most of our friends were out because they were either terrified of being left alone with a child or had children of their own to take care of. Then, enter my old reliable pal who offered to do it.
Although she had no kids of her own she basically helped raise her three nieces--they all lived in the same house for a number of years--and she's totally laid back. Perhaps the latter qualification is the more important one because, as you may have guessed, I am anything but laid back when it comes to my son and his care.
What's even funnier is that this pal of mine came all the way from New Jersey just to watch our baby so we could go to New Jersey. Had we a car it might have taken less time, but alas, that is another blog for another day.
So my pal arrived around 5:00 and we headed out around 5:30. No one wanted to bother with the two random opening bands so we decided to meet our friends at the concert hall between 7:00 and 8:00...ish.
Naturally the one evening we had business in the city the subway wasn't stopping at our stop so we had to walk to another station. Then we took one subway line to another subway line which eventually took us to Port Authority where we caught a bus. All in all it took us longer to get to and back from the concert than it did to actually see the concert, but whatever.
The whole point was that we were going out, alone, and that we were drinking. I had a total of two whopping beers (after which I pumped and dumped) which basically had me lit like a roman candle on the 4th of July. Then I felt gross because I hadn't eaten since around 4:00 that afternoon. I did pound some water but would end up feeling bad the next day anyway.
Remember what I said about being a dorkwad? Well, let's just say that I was totally hung over from two measly little beers. Yep. But I enjoyed them. Oh, how I enjoyed them.
Well, interestingly enough, the Police being who they are, there were all sorts of folks attending the concert. Young, old, and in between. There were people of pretty much every nationality floating around. It was really cool. There were also, I noted with aplomb, several largely pregnant women in attendance. I could just hear them the day of: "Look, we paid for these tickets and we're GOING to see the Police even if we have the baby right there in the middle of the concert!!!" I concur.
One such pregnant woman was seated for most of the performance right in front of me, which means I had a great view the whole time. Everything was going swimmingly until I started smelling some foul odor. It was a cigarette. And the smoke was headed right toward the pregnant woman.
Now, look, I get it that people want to smoke and they want to smoke even more so at concerts. There were sighs EVERYWHERE, however, stating that smoking was not allowed. Some jerk just had to be too cool for school and lit up anyway.
This annoyed the crap out of me. I wouldn't have cared so much but I remembered how obnoxious people were with their smoking around me when I was pregnant and it made me mad that this guy was polluting the air right by this woman.
I decided rather than continue to complain to my husband that I would do something about my frustration, for once. I marched over to the security guard at the entrance to our section and informed him of the situation. He went snooping around and hung out by the guy hiding his cigarette until the message was clear that his behavior would not be tolerated.
Again, look--if you want to smoke, go outside. Or just hold off until after the concert is over. It's not like the Police were going to play all night or something. Geez.
Other than that little blip the evening went fine. When we got home the baby was asleep and my friend was hanging out. It turned out that our little man had had a meltdown right after we left which basically didn't end until he went to sleep two hours later.
I felt awful about the whole thing. We all knew I couldn't have done anything about it since I was in New Jersey. Plus, as my mild-mannered friend put it, he was just being a baby. He was mad and crying was what he knew how to do. I guess ultimately it's better I didn't know what was going on back home while I was at the concert because there was no way to get back until it was over anyway. I'd have just been freaked out the entire time instead of enjoying myself.
I did make it out of there in one piece, despite being up so late, and even managed to score a T-shirt. Maybe fifteen years from now my son will think it's cool enough to wear. Maybe he'll even think I was cool once too. Nah, probably not.
No, I wasn't cool enough to have a camera phone. Rockin' pic of Sting by Zanastardust.
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