It’s the end of a long, exhausting week and I am dreaming of
my couch, a glass of red wine and a good book. Unfortunately, a dream is all it will be on this Friday
afternoon.
When I get home, I ignore my cozy couch and drag my body up
the stairs and into the shower. It’s
the last thing I want to do but I am determined to embark on a very different
date night with my husband.
We are going to see Feist, who is headlining a Sled Island
show at Olympic Plaza. Normally,
this is not something we would choose to do, but I was lucky enough to win
tickets. Also, I remember my
commitment to stepping out of my comfort zone and this is definitely a prime
opportunity. Big, noisy
crowds tend to make me grumpy and anxious. By nature, I enjoy quiet, peaceful surroundings with lots of
space. But I am determined, so I
ignore my misgivings and get ready.
Showered and dressed, we jump in the car and head for the
city. Instead of driving into downtown Calgary and fighting traffic, we decide
to take the c-train. Sitting in
close proximity with total strangers is interesting. As we ride I study the people around me. From the man with the sun-warn face,
ripped jeans and work boots, to the prim-looking woman reading a romance
novel. They are all so
different. I wonder what stories
they would have to tell.
When we arrive, we are greeted by a host of sights and
smells. Olympic Plaza is bustling
with activity. We walk past dozens of vendors selling an eclectic mix of delicious
smelling food and finally settle on one of the cement benches that ring the perimeter
of the plaza. It is exciting to be
among hundreds of other people, all of us here for the same reason-- to listen
and enjoy. I find that I am not
grumpy or anxious around this group. The stresses of the week seem to be forgotten or at the very least,
set aside. I soak this in like a sponge
and am really glad I made the effort to get out. This is much better than the couch.
It begins to rain, so we pop up our umbrella and huddle
beneath it. We listen to two bands, but the country-bumpkin in me is more
entertained by the people around us.
I notice a young couple that looks like they are on their first date. A shoeless
young woman doesn’t appear to mind the rain and is completely absorbed in
tossing and catching a hula hoop.
Another guy is trying hard to convince a group of females to come to an
amazing house party later that evening.
But the most entertaining is a rather short man who reminds me of a
cross between Kevin James and Jeremy Piven. He is holding a can of beer in one hand and, with a huge
smile on his face is jumping into the huge puddles of water with as much force
and childish glee as he can muster. Part of me wants to join him. Twenty years ago, I probably would have.
Finally, after what seems like an age has passed, Feist
appears and we make our way to the stage and slosh through the deepening
puddles to get a better view. I’m fiercely
afraid of any kind of public speaking/performing. Even a small speech or comment at a staff meeting makes me
break into a sweat. So I am always
amazed at how effortless performers make it look. She commands the stage and it is obvious she loves what she
is doing.
After a while, I look at my watch and realize it’s getting
late—10:00 p.m.! A few years ago my
night would just have begun. But
my body’s internal clock says otherwise. My husband agrees and we hop back on the train.
The evening seems to have drawn the weirdos out of the
woodwork. This is an entirely new
face of the city and it is both amusing and a little disconcerting. A man gets on alone and storms up the
aisle muttering something to himself, swinging his arms around at invisible
demons. I feel the air move as his
hand swats the space just above my head.
He settles in a few rows ahead of us. I hope that whoever he is talking to doesn’t make him
angrier. A couple of inebriated
friends wobble on board and are consoling each other, as drunken people often
do after a night of reveling when they are coming down off their high. There are a lot of “I love you man”,
and “you are awesome,” comments being passed back and forth.
My husband and I share a smile. We are content to sit in silence, digesting the evening and enjoying
each other’s company.
Eventually, we get to our stop, and travel south to our
quiet town. I am still tired, yet
I feel refreshed. It feels like I
have splashed cool water on my face after a long hot day.
I want to do something like this again. But right now, the hour is late and the
couch is calling.
No comments:
Post a Comment