A night to remember
What is this life if, full of care,
We have no time to stand and stare?
.
.
No time to turn at Beauty’s glance,
And watch her feet, how they can dance.
— from “Leisure” by W.H. Davies
When my son was born I remember joking that I couldn’t wait until he was old enough to take to a Rolling Stones concert. A father/son bonding evening with the Stones. The joke was that the Rolling Stones were older than sin even then. Now Conor is nine years old and the Stones are still together, so the father/son concert may yet happen.
But the Stones won’t be Conor’s first concert. Last week I took him to Wolf Trap to see the Corrs. It was a spontaneous decision. I heard a commercial on the radio for the show which was to take place that same night. Wolf Trap is an outdoor pavilion in Northern Virginia run by the National Park Service. The venue is America’s only National Park for the performing arts. It is a wonderful place to see a show.
The problem was, the Corrs show was sold-out of pavilion seats and all that remained was the lawn. I’m not a fan of sitting on the lawn at Wolf Trap, despite the obvious appeal of being outside, under the stars, to watch the show. First of all, it could rain and being soaked is not my idea of a fun night out. Second, people who sit on the lawn are picnickers first and foremost; the concert is almost an afterthought. As such, there’s a whole lot of talking during the show. This drives me crazy. Third, you can’t see anything from out there. Finally, as if I haven’t ranted enough about this tangent to my story, my back can’t take three hours of sitting on a blanket on a hill slope (folding chairs are not permitted at Wolf Trap).
Even though the Corrs show was ostensibly sold-out, experience has shown me that promotional tickets are sometimes released on the day of the performance, and they are often quite good seats. So I checked the Wolf Trap website for last minute tickets. All that came up were lawn seats. I tried again. Same result. I tried a bunch more times. Lawn, lawn, lawn… Then, as if by magic, the web page offered a pair of tickets inside the pavilion – box seats. I checked the seating chart for Wolf Trap and discovered that this was the first row of the VIP section – among the best seats in the house. So I bought the tickets.
When I told Conor later that day that we were going to see the Corrs he was ecstatic: “The Corrs? I can’t believe you got tickets to the Corrs. Oh, Dad, I am so happy. <Hug> I love the Corrs. I love you.” My son shares my wicked and highly acerbic sense of humor, so I was a bit dubious. “Really? I didn’t know you had even heard of them.” He smiled. “I’m kidding. I don’t know who they are. But it’s my first rock concert, Dad, and if you say they’re good than I’m sure they are.” Another big hug.
I did not point out to Conor that I knew only slightly more about the Corrs than he did. I can recognize maybe two of their hit songs from the radio, but I don’t own a CD by the band. Basically, I was just looking for an evening out and a chance to take Conor to his first concert. So I copped the father knows best posture and told him, “Oh yeah, the Corrs are awesome; we’re gonna have a blast.”
We packed up the binoculars and a cooler full of soda and beer and sandwiches and chips and headed off to Wolf Trap early so we could sit and have a picnic dinner before the show. It was a clear and warm summer evening, with the moon rising above a thick stand of trees that buffer the park from the suburban development all around it. We had just barely enough time to eat our dinner before it was time to pick up the tickets at “will call” and go inside for the show.
The seats were better than I anticipated. I have seen dozens of shows at Wolf Trap over the years and I’ve sat all over the pavilion, but these seats were the best yet, perfectly situated for visual and acoustical clarity. The playbill showed a map of the Wolf Trap facility; it listed this box as reserved for the season by big-dollar donors; that is, these seats are supposed to be off-limits to peons like us. I looked over at Conor to see if he was as impressed with our unlikely good fortune as I was, but he was more fascinated by his Evian water bottle with the cool snap-off lid. I suppose I was happy that he showed such an interest in his water bottle considering it cost $3.
The opening act for the show was a band fronted by a young man named Jessie Harris, who is best known for his collaboration with Nora Jones. I saw Nora Jones in concert at Wolf Trap last summer. Don’t get me wrong, I like Nora Jones, but her show puts out about as much electricity as a 20 watt light bulb. By comparison, Jessie Harris, was about half that wattage. Sorry, Jessie, your songs are really nice and all, but you might want to stick to smaller venues – you seemed really tiny up there. Midway through the act, Conor leaned over to me and whispered, “Is this all there is, because I’m not sure I can stay awake much longer.” Mercifully, Harris only played about 30 minutes, but the damage was done. Conor was sleepy. It was approaching his usual bedtime and I wasn’t sure I could resuscitate him.
We got up and walked around between shows. We stretched our legs. We stood in a line to use the men’s room and commented about how lucky we were not to have to use the women’s bathroom where the line snaked out endlessly. We had a drink from the public water fountain – no more over-priced French water. (Instead, I had an over-priced double espresso from Starbucks.) I bought Conor one of those multi-colored “glow sticks” that fluoresce in the dark and bend into various shapes. All-to-quickly, the bell sounded announcing the start of the next act, so we returned to our seats.
As I mentioned earlier, I didn’t know much about the Corrs going into this show, but I did know that they were an Irish act founded by a family of three sisters and a brother with the surname Corr. I had also heard that the sisters were all really cute. The lights went down in the pavilion and the sold-out crowd cheered. Conor snapped his glow stick which unleashed a multi-colored radiance. Out came the Corrs on stage. My initial reaction was that claims to the cuteness of the Corrs sisters were way, way understated. The lead singer and front-woman for the band, Andrea Corr is nothing short of a knock-out. And she knows it. Andrea flirted with the crowd and, in turn, we ate it right up. I couldn’t take my eyes off her with my binoculars. After the first number, she kicked off her “Dorothy of the Wizard of Oz” shoes and danced around the stage barefoot, showing a lot of leg under her flouncing peasant skirt.
Of course, in the end, cuteness is not enough to carry a show. Well, maybe it is, but a little talent also helps. The Corrs are a tight band. Individually, there are no weaknesses. As a band, they are quite balanced and professional. The Corrs songs are a bit too pop-oriented for me, so I doubt I will be buying their CDs, but in concert they are a lot of fun. What more can you ask?
With all the sensory overload, I forgot briefly that Conor was the real reason that we were here this evening. His first concert! I looked over to see if he was enjoying himself. It was dark, but he had contorted his glow stick into a ring and was wearing it on his head, which was now bobbing around in a desperate and futile attempt at staying awake.
By the fourth song, Conor’s head fell against my shoulder, his fluorescent halo glowing brightly. He was out. I just laughed. “Boy, you don’t know what you’re missing,” I said to myself and went back to watching Andrea Corr through my binoculars. She stopped dancing for a moment, long enough for me to see that she had painted her toes a metallic silver color, but left her big toes nude. Damn. I wondered: Was it odder that she did this or that I noticed?
12:22:21 PM  Stories
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