We got to Wolf Trap last night well after the gates opened and the lawn wasn’t packed to the gills. We breathed a sigh of relief and unpacked our blanket and set up for what we thought was going to be a relaxing night (Marc Broussard opened, then Umphrey’s McGee played a long set and then Bela Fleck wrapped it up). Little did we know one of the bands was a Phish/Grateful Dead wannabe and we’d be inundated with dreadlocked, sweaty, unwashed twenty year old boys. I know some twenty year olds are men, but these were still boys. But, I get ahead of myself.
A foursome planted themselves right smack in front of us and proceeded to unwrap their picnic. I could tell there was something not quite right with at least some of the foursome when the “wine” guy shows his bottles as if they were something special. I think the words were “on special” at the grocery store. Now, before you think I’m a wine snob, I’m not. I recognized those wines as grocery store material because it’s the stuff we drink. I don’t pretend that they are anything special. Then, I was treated to the ParisHilton of the group’s teeny, tiny left nipple. She was wearing a halter top and had a regrettably small breast and because of her regrettably small breast there was nothing to help hold the halter top close. If I have to look at a woman’s naked nipple, I’d prefer that the breast be luscious.
Because her breast was so regrettably small, I checked out the rest of her and decided she leads an unhealthy lifestyle. She didn’t eat a thing even though the other three in her group did. She drank wine and a Diet Coke. Know how you can tell if someone is healthy by looking at their hair? She had horrible hair-dry, limp, nothing resembling a shine. The girl clearly needed to introduce some food into her diet.
When it started to get dark, the cigarettes came out. There’s no smoking on the lawn and it bugs the crap out of me when lots and lots of people ignore that fact. We sat in a sea of cigarettes. The sweet booze everyone was drinking also started to take hold and people got louder and more obnoxious. Then, inevitably, the sweet smell of marijuana started to make its appearance. I remarked to the better-half this morning that I hate being surrounded by cigarette smoke but the passing of the bong doesn’t really bother me.
The better-half and I haven’t been around that much marijuana since forever. I had a friend in college who smoked a lot and the better-half lived upstairs from Grand Central Marijuana when we first met. Grand Central moved to Idaho and since that time we occasionally get a whiff at concerts.
At one point, a staff member told the twenty year old boys to quit smoking and they got loud and puffed up; strutting about like little roosters. I figured they were lucky Johnny Law didn’t show up and ask them about the other stuff they were smoking.
We left during the encore because the boys were so damn obnoxious by that time. Marc Broussard was pretty good and Bela Fleck and the Flecktones were amazing. Umphrey’s, not so much.