Not Too Old to Rock

Several years ago, one of my best friends and I were trying to recapture our youth, so we bought tickets to go see Styx at Mud Island. If you live in Memphis you know that playing at Mud Island is about two rungs above playing weddings on the career ladder. So, we get all dolled up in our “we’re not old yet” outfits and off we go on concert night. We sat through the opening act – I have no clue who it was. In my defense, if you are the opening act for a washed up band at Mud Island you should feel honored that I remember that you played at all. Anyway, the forgettable opening act left the stage and that was our cue to take a potty break and visit the nearest beverage stand.

If you have ever been to Mud Island, you know that in order to get to the bathrooms at the amphitheater you have to descend about 40 concrete steps. My friend and I milled in with the rest of the “we’re still young enough to rock” crowd and headed for the stairs. I’m sure that I don’t need to tell you that some of the patrons of this event were slightly inebriated. Just as we are about to begin our decent to the bathrooms, this idiot drunk guy comes barreling through. The next thing the crowd sees is some poor woman flipping head over heals down the steps. My friend jabs me with her elbow to make sure that I have witnessed what was later called “a blur of arms and legs rolling down the steps”. She’s poking the crap out of me saying, “Did you see that idiot!” Imagine her surprise when she turned to me and realized that she was trying to break the ribs of some older, rotund woman.

Meanwhile, at the bottom of the steps, I tried to regain my composure. I landed with my head lying in the men’s bathroom doorway. Lord only knows what the liquid soaking the back of my shirt was – I prefer to believe it was bleach water. I am certain that the liquid soaking into my sock was blood. I had completely ripped open my shin and it was bleeding nicely. Thank God I was lying in bleach water or I might have gotten a nasty infection. The best part is, the moron that knocked me down the stairs in the first place was now position over me, swaying back and forth, offering to help me up. I explained in my best condescending tone that he had already been help enough. Luckily, a security guard had seen the whole thing and came to my rescue.

Cut back to the top of the steps. Once my friend realized that I was not going to die from my injuries, my fall became the funniest thing she had ever seen. I thought she was going to wet her pants while recounting HER version of what had transpired. So, we finally made it to the bathroom, took care of business, cleaned up my wounds, answered stupid questions, “wow, did you fall”, “looks like that hurts”, and my favorite “man, that’s gotta sting”. Nah, I’ve just ripped off 9 layers of flesh from my shin, my bone is exposed and there are little bits of gravel and particles of Lee Press on Nails embedded in my skin…..doesn’t hurt a bit. What is wrong with people??

Anyway, once we got out of the bathroom we made it to the beverage stand where we were served complimentary (code for “please don’t sue”) beverages and escorted to our new seats on the 12th row, center stage. I propped up my leg and commenced to re-hydrating myself as I knew I would need to keep my strength up for the walk back to the car. By the time the concert was over, the miracle of modern brewing had alleviated my pain and I was able to make it to the car with no additional assistance.

My friend and I have attended many concerts together over the years but I have to say that this is one of the most memorable. I look back on it now and I realize what a simpler time it was then. Back then, you could gash your leg open at a concert, in a men’s restroom and never even think of needing to leave and go home, or to the First Aid tent for a band aid or to the hospital for an HIV test. Noooo – back then, you could wallow around on a pee soaked floor with open wounds while your friends hyperventilated from laughter and you consider it a successful night because you managed to get free beer! Man, I wonder if I can get Styx to play my wedding……….?