Lumineer is definitely better than Lumi-far

Ring. Ring.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Savannah! What'ya doin'?"

"Oh...Lisa and I are just hanging out with the dogs in the backyard.

LONG PAUSE

"Uh...what are you guys doing?" my daughter politely asked (finally).

"Oh, nothing," I shrugged, valiantly trying for nonchalance, "We're just on our way home from The Lumineers concert."

SILENCE

Then...Savannah and Lisa exploding.

What does that say about me, as a human, that that was one of the many highlights of my INCREDIBLE night?

"What was another highlight?" my husband asked curiously.

"Is it shallow to admit that I loved being enveloped in the confetti cloud?" I cautiously inquired.

Brad laughed. "It was more like a blizzard."

I hadn't known being showered in a curtain of confetti was even ON my bucket list. I blame Erin, who has given me glitter shell-shock.

I bounced in my seat, still buzzing with excitement.

We had SO much fun.

My anxiety limits us much more than I ever like to admit. Bad enough that it affects me...but it also impacts Brad. 

He always supports and encourages my decisions...when I actually get around to making one. "I'd really like to go see The Lumineers," I'd shared, months ago. Then I came up with a thousand reasons why NOT to go see The Lumineers. Brad just patiently waited me out, knowing his role is ground crew on the day of the event. I hemmed and hawed for weeks before pulling the trigger. Sydney and I studied the map showing the available seating and she quickly ruled out the lawn seats. "There was plenty of room there during Willie," I pointed out. She smiled. "Willie Nelson is a bit of a different concert. Let's get you somewhat out of the fray."

Which is how Brad and I ended up with silver bracelets.

The only people who could get closer to the stage were the Gold Bracelets and they were all crammed into a corral like drunken cows.

Us Silver Bracelets had SEATS (not that we used them). We were so close that it was easier to look at the actual musicians than the video screens projecting the images of the musicians to the 17,000 far-sighted people behind us. 

18,000 attended. With me. The girl who crouched and cried in a mulch fort outside a grocery store during Covid. I now have a new favorite Lumineer lyric from the song "Slow It Down:"

And when she stood, she stood tall

Getting me to and from my seat was dicey...I've adopted a more-or-less successful eyes-on-the-ground, following Brad's feet as I clutch his hand strategy. I got flagged through the metal detector but Brad moved directly into my eyesight as security determined I wasn't a threat...the ticket agent just thought I was an every-day-sort-of-idiot as I fumbled scanning our tickets (Sigh...I miss paper tickets...doesn't anyone keep scrapbooks any more?) which I took as a victory, and the people who bumped and jostled me were too inebriated to react to my frightened jolts and gasps as Brad kept a firm grip on me in the crowd. We found our seats (Staff explained and pointed. I nodded. Brad listened and located.) and once I'd spent 30 minutes prairie-dogging the area looking for exits and calculating the quickest ways out of there, I settled in.

"Do the seats really make that big a difference?" I asked Brad as I rattled off a dozen more of my highlights. I likened all the musicians to television personalities...a thirty-something Ron Howard with a beard, Woody Harrelson, "Ann Perkins" from Parks & Rec, a young Bobby Flay, and Ed Helms (which was actually conceivable since he also plays the banjo). I watched them exchange insider smiles, wink at one another, toss guitar picks...I saw the skill and strain of fingers coaxing incredible sounds from a constantly-revolving array of instruments. Yeah. The seats make a HUGE difference. In all the other concerts I've attended, I was swept up in the energy of the crowd...an almost revival-type relationship where we are led to sing with one voice and move in metronomic motion. At this concert though, that chorus was behind us...an incessant energy pushing us forward...up...up...up...toward the band...where the energy originated and pulsed out...you could feel it in your stomach...by the way the hairs on the back of your neck lifted...and in the way you couldn't stand still. Electric.

I'd warned Brad during the drive to the concert. "There are four songs that I know by HEART," I confided, "so I'll be good-to-go if I get called up on stage." "What about the other songs?" he wondered, worried on my behalf. We wouldn't want me to be embarrassed, after all. "I just won't make eye-contact during those numbers," I assured him. Turns out, I was relieved that the band didn't need me to help them out because the biggest highlight of the evening was standing next to my husband at that concert.