So, I took my kids (Age 15, 19 and 26) to see The Eagles, the 70’s band, a couple of Saturdays back. My kids, though fans of modern music (That I do not like, understand, or pretend to think is good) have grown up with two parents who were raised during the 70’s and 80’s, and thus they have also become fans of Classic Rock. My wife decided to babysit the grand kids, so it was Bonding Time for Dad and the kids.
We pulled up to the American Airlines Center in Dallas a little early, with about 45 minutes to kill before the opening act was scheduled to start, so we were not in a big hurry. We had stopped for a burger on the way, and we sat in my truck drinking our sodas, talking about concerts, music, and such to kill a little time.
After a few minutes, I looked around me, and noticed that several of the cars around us were also occupied with people waiting for time to go into the arena. On closer examination, I noticed that 6 or 8 of them were occupied by couples, in the 50 – 60 year old age range, passing a doobie back and forth. Several of men in these cars had grey ponytails, and the women all looked like the typical grandmotherly woman of that age. I snickered inwardly as I watched them, remembering how many such scenes I had witnessed 30 years ago outside of (and inside) concerts much like the one that we were about to attend.
As I sat there, my mind began to wander (as it so often does) and I started pondering what I was seeing.
The first thing that popped into my head was “Where does a 60 year old go to score a lid these days?”
After that, I spun it a bit further, and started wondering if they grow it themselves.
Do these senior citizens do their gardening hydroponically in their garage? (No, son, you can’t go into the garage. Uhhh…. Grandpa just sprayed it for bugs. Yeah, that’s it, bug spray. So you can’t play in the garage.”
Maybe they have the same connection they had in High School (“Come on, Joe. I know you broke your hip, but surely you can bring me a half bag!! I got the money right here.”)
And my mind, being what it is, kept going.
When the kids call and tell them they are going to drop by with the grandkids, do they run all over picking up roaches and seeds, and burning incense so the kids don’t know they’ve been doobing out?
If they smoke it at home, do they get the munchies for high fiber snacks?
If they are almost out, do they bogart that last joint, and not tell the other one that they have it?
I was sitting there, thinking all this stuff, when my son brought me back to reality, and informed me of the time. We got out, and started across the parking lot toward the arena, passing several of the smoke filled cars.
As we got to the street, and saw the cops directing traffic around the arena to the parking areas, I had one last little vision.
I saw one of those cars getting stopped on the way home from the concert, and Grandma and Grandpa throwing the remaining bits of their bag out the sun roof of the Lexus, telling each other “Be Cool, Be Cool!!!!!”
Laughing out loud, I showed my ticket at the door, went in, and my kids and I enjoyed a great show.