So Much For Planning

To had two logistic challenges to overcome last weekend. Catch the Coldplay concert Thursday night, and use a housewarming party Saturday night to help me stay awake till the 4:30am live telecast of Festival of The Boot Part 2.

I had both planned down to the minute.

Coldplay was a challenge as we had $20 lawn tickets, an open area behind the covered seats section that is available on a first-come first served basis. There's not many concerts that pass through here that I actually want to see, my last being Duran Duran (which should be some indication of something). I didn't want to spend this one singing along 300 yards from the band surrounded by people more into their conversations than the music, and with Gorgeous Wife not arriving from Philly until later that night, I was committed to doing whatever it took for one-man to secure front lawn position.

I arrived 3 hours before the concert started, and half an hour before the gates had opened. I battled with all the kids half my age and squeezed through the gate, hired two lawn chairs, bought a fistful of $8 beers and staked a place at the very front of the lawn. Needing enough space for 4, I growled like a rabid dog at any group of teenage girls (actually, the crowd was pretty mixed, age-wise) that encroached upon my chairs-towel-and-beer area. It rained briefly, but the slightly-bent brolly and my beers kept me safe until the wife, the Hairy Italian, and his short-lived date turned up.

And 15 minutes after that I ran into friends who spirited us 2 tickets into the box seats, where we watched the concert with a table, leg room and our own waitress. So much for planning. Great concert, and a very personable band. You know you've had a good concert when your last to leave, you have to locate the now drunk Hairy Italian to drive him home (sans date), and your throat hurts from singing.

That night of adventure and Friday's early morning return of Gorgeous Wife to the airport so she could attend a Ft. Lauderdale hen's night, meant that Saturday was a slow day of naps, EPL and spinach-alfredo pizza. Until The Brad texted me a "where are you?" at 10pm. I had completely forgotten BaybrEve's housewarming! With the party only two blocks from home, I hot-footed it down there and shared a brace of Miller Lites (thats what you get for not taking your own beer) and a couple of Tequila shooters before me old mate Lee rang in a change of bar request, and we walked downtown with The Brad and Mikey G packing a few scrums on the way for practise (Mike womn all the scrums), and then we closed down Bar Empire. Good to see The Mighty G before he ships back out for the 'dry-heat' of Arizona. I've missed his laconic wit.

As I walked home with 2 hours till the footy, I went back past the party locale and found people still on the balcony, so I headed up for a few 'settlers'. Hostess #1 was unsurprisingly passed out, and I am sure she suffered almost as much as the my touchable-pants, on which she deposited a good portion of her cocktails throughout the night. I joined the four remaining stalwarts with a shot ro two before joining enjoying the nice fall evening from the balcony with Hostess #2. After a chat, she went inside, and I finished my beer and wandered in to find the three guys passed out on various furniture, and Hostess #2 unconscious in bed. I have never been one for leaving a party early, but this may be a new record. Maybe it was supposed to be a sleepover?

I snuck out, got home for the start of the Rugby, fell asleep 10 minutes before the kick-off, and woke up 20 minutes late for the Sunday morning soccer game.

So much for planning.