Wonderful Tonight

As luck would have it, one of the teachers had an extra ticket to see Eric Clapton Monday night. I might add that it was a free ticket (free to me anyway; $100 for the bloke who was giving it away). I went with Sunny Cooper, the super talented and funny Canadian who teaches third grade at my school.

The concert was across town at IMPACT Arena, which is just like the Norfolk Scope or the Hampton Colisseum. We arrived about twenty minutes into the show (we had lingered too long over our passion fruit and lemon sherbet at dinner). The first thing that struck me as odd was that the floor was filled with chairs. I can’t recall having been to a rock concert where there were chairs set out on the center part of the arena. And what was more surprising is that people were using them. This was the most sedate concert I’ve ever been too. M-e-l-l-o-w. Not that I was expecting a mosh pit or people rushing the stage, but a little more…um…excitement perhaps.

I guess the man is getting old. He reminded me of my dad (sorry, Pops). Somewhere etched in my mind I still have the younger version of Eric Clapton, with longer hair and not so many wrinkles, and definitely not sporting the turkey neck action. The man can still jam though. He ended with some of the zippier tunes. The Geritol was paying off by then and people were actually out of their seats and some had ventured down the aisle closer to the stage. You just can’t be seated for “Layla.”

I’m getting old too because I suggested that we leave before the encore was over so that we wouldn’t have to fight with the crowd. I used to hate it when my parents gave me that line but I totally see the sense in it now, especially on a school night. Finding a taxi was a chore; I haven’t gotten used to the idea of needing to find transportation after an event, especially a late event across town. Sunny and I walked around for quite a while in search of a taxi to no avail. I ended up taking my shoes off (I had worn feminine shoes with a wedge heel instead of my Birks since I was wearing jeans and a black tee shirt, and combined with my short hair, Birks would have been a surefire brand of a butch lesbian).

Anyway, after walking in circles for a while, I stopped by a little restaurant to ask where to get a taxi. I was talking to a few older Thai people, shoes in hand, when I see something out of the corner of my eye. Scurrying. Many things scurrying. Many large things scurrying in close proximity to my bare feet. In the middle of my “where can I get a taxi” schpeil my voice jumped up a few octaves—I may have screamed—as I realized that those were the biggest cockroaches I have ever seen. We’re talking a good four inches each. A good dozen or so of four inch cockroaches scavenging near my perfectly manicured toes.

I tried to keep my composure because the Thai’s were nonplussed by the whole thing. Totally unphased. I didn’t want to come across as some hoighty toity privileged American who has never been around bugs before. I looked over at Sunny who was managing very nicely considering she hates cockroaches more than ANYTHING in the whole world. She took a step or two back, had an expression of sheer terror on her face, but she did not spew forth the number of expletives I have heard her expel before when we have encountered said pests.

Good to know that not EVERYTHING in Thailand is Thai sized. Well, kinda.