On Monday afternoon Ashley texts that she has tickets to The Wailers and her fie-ance Luke can’t go. (You may remember Ashley from the MILF/Cougar incident.)
The Wailers. As in, Bob Marley and the Wailers, (minus Bob Marley of course.) Or at least I’m assuming they are THE Wailers. But does it really matter anyway? Is Alek working? Am I available? Yes and Yes.
Thing one, a band called Outernational is the opening act. They are a bunch of skinny guys in skinny jeans and hipster jackets and I’m thinking to myself “Ugh.”
And then they start to play. And it’s if you took New York City Rock and Ska and Reggaeton and Russian Kalinka Folk Dancing and Chicano Rock and Irish Folk Dancing and mixed it all together and made a big awesome pie. I mean seriously, these guys f***ing ROCKED. Oh and they have a TRUMPET PLAYER. Rad.
Thing two, we were up on the balcony people watching and when The Wailers started, this guy in a gray hoodie made his way down to the front and just started JAMMIN’. Waving his arm, dancing, singing along to every single word. I mean, he was in a GROOVE. It was beautiful. I thought to myself:
“I wish I could dance like no one is watching.”
Then I started getting all of these deep thoughts and started jotting them down in my phone. (I MAY or MAY NOT have had a few drinks at this point.)
I wish I could dance like no one is watching.
Who doesn’t love Reggae? I mean really? What isn’t to love?
Why don’t I listen to more Reggae?
I want to be on a beach.
Correction, I want to be on a beach with Alek.
Correction, I want to be on a beach with Alek with an icy cold beverage in my hand.
Ah, Reggae. I mean, this is just…CHILL…
What am I doing out this late on a Monday?
What are all of these people doing out this late on a Monday?? Is this what people do???
Admittedly, it was hard to soar with the eagles after hooting with the owls, but I did discover a totally off the hook awesome band and I saw something really beautiful.
Totally worth it.