Author's Note: Previously I've chosen song titles from Little Feat, Traffic, Van Morrison and Fleetwood Mac for the titles of my stories. In keeping with that trend, this one draws inspiration from a song by Ian Dury & the Blockheads. Once again, my thanks to Eclecticwoman818 for her assistance with proofreading and editing. Please be sure to vote. I write for enjoyment but the feedback from your votes inspires me and also tells me if I need to change my style or topics. Comments, be they critical or praise, are also always welcome.
*****
"Good evening, tickets, please" I said as the crowd began filing in to see the show by a group I had vaguely heard of.
I had started volunteering at the local concert venue about six months before, a couple of months after my late wife had succumbed to cancer. My life was basically pretty boring, and I decided that I needed to find something to do in the evenings to keep myself from going completely nuts. Daytime was easy to find something to do, laundry, yard work, cleaning or any of a million other tasks that I now had to do all by myself, but nighttime had a tendency to be lonely and allowed too much time to wallow in self-pity. Some of the shows were really good and some were mediocre at best.
"Hello again," said a woman as she handed me her ticket.
I scanned the ticket and looked up to see a short, slim woman with grey hair and glasses. It was her.
The previous Friday's show had been an excellent jam band from San Francisco who played quite a few original tunes, but obviously didn't forget their roots in the music of the Grateful Dead, the Allmans, et al. During their set break, I had gone outside to have a cigarette and since it was raining, sought shelter under an awning. The short woman standing next to me was friendly and told me that this was the second night in a row she had seen the band, having traveled thirty miles in one direction last night and thirty miles in another to get here tonight.
While we were chatting, a group of people near us lit a joint and started passing it around. Being an old, what people would refer to as a hippy, I remember thinking 'oh, good, at least a contact high.' Seconds later, I noticed that that the woman withdrew a cigarette pack from her purse and watched as she pulled out a joint, lit it, and handed it to me. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, I took the joint and sucked in some of the sweet smoke before handing it back. We stood there under the awning and smoked most of the joint before deciding that we both had probably had enough for now.
The awning we were standing under was over one of the building's fire exits. A man walked over and started banging on the door to see if someone would let him in so he wouldn't have to walk the twenty five feet to the other door in what was only what you'd call a light rain. When no one had opened the door after a few minutes of his pounding, I thanked the woman for the buzz and told her I was going around the other way to get back inside. She decided to stay and wait for someone to finally open the door, and that was the last I saw of her.
Once back inside, I looked around for her to see if I could buy her a drink as way of a thank you, but never saw anyone I could be sure was her. The outside area was dimly lit and she had a hood pulled up to keep from getting wet. Because of those factors, I was unable to pick her out definitely. Well, maybe being stoned contributed to that as well. While listening to the second set, I saw what I thought was her, but being a somewhat shy person, the fear of embarrassment if I was wrong trumped the possibility of connecting with someone if I was right.
After listening to most of the second set, I yawned twice and decided it was probably time for me to go. With one last look around, to try and decide if my odds of being right had improved, I decided that they hadn't and turned and left. Luckily the rain had stopped and traffic was light for the short distance I had to drive to get home. When I got home, I berated myself for being so shy and timid and that I'd never find someone to share time with if I wouldn't take the chance to get to know someone new.
All week long, I thought about what might have happened had I gone over and spoken to the woman that I was pretty sure was her.
And now she was here again.
"Hi. I looked for you after I got back inside last week, but didn't see you."
"I thought I saw you once or twice, but never got a chance to get over to where you were standing before you moved again."
"I'll definitely look for you tonight once the crowd is all in and the volunteers get to go and see the show." I told her as I turned to scan the tickets for the next people in line.
"I'll be along the left side." she said as she turned and left.
I've noticed over the months that different seating arrangements attract different crowds. If the show is seated but not reserved seating, the crowd will arrive early and by the time the opening act is set to go, most people have arrived. Shows with reserved seating have crowds that arrive in a steady flow up until showtime, and shows that are general admission, which means less seats and more room for people to stand up, and dance if they want to, have crowds that usually arrive right up until the main act is set to begin, and even into the first set, with a lot of walk-up ticket purchases. I'm not sure if it is poor planning or just them thinking they're being spontaneous. In any event, this crowd was late arriving and it was well into the headliner's first set by the time the last of the stragglers arrived. After turning in my scanner, I went inside, determined to not blow a second chance to get to know this woman. I looked around for a few minutes without seeing her before I thought rationally. If I was short, where would I stand? Armed with that revelation, I worked my way down toward the front and spotted her standing about fifteen feet from the front of the stage.
I moved down front and across until I was beside her. I leaned down and said "How's the band?"
She turned and smiled. "The first band was really good. A couple of original songs that still need work, but the potential is there, and the covers they did were well done with their own spin on them. This band is just okay, nothing to write home about."
"I'm sorry I missed the first band then. So far this band doesn't impress me much either. They seem very uninspired and not very personable. By the way, my name is Tim, but most of my friends just call me T."
"I'm Connie," she replied.
"A pleasure to meet you, officially." I replied. "Can I buy you a beer or a glass of wine to repay your kindness from last week/"
"Sure, but maybe we can slip outside for a smoke first."
We worked our way through the crowd and ducked out the door to the designated smoking area. Since the band was still playing, the area was pretty deserted and she didn't hesitate taking out a joint and lighting it before handing it to me.
I took a hit and held the joint for a moment, checking out the skill with which it was rolled.
"Nice rolling job. I've not met very many women who could roll a joint worth a damn."
Connie laughed "Thank you, but I'm not sure I should put 'Rolls a great joint' on my resumα»."
"Probably not," I agreed. "I was very pleasantly surprised to see you here tonight. I looked for you last week to buy you a drink as a way of thanks for the buzz, but I couldn't find anyone I was sure was you."
She smiled "Well, after I got home last week I kept telling myself I should have moved over to you when I saw you. I felt that there might be a connection there, but my head overruled my instincts, or maybe my hormones, and I stayed put."
We smoked about half the joint before we heard the band announce that that they would be taking a break after the next song and decided to hit the bar before the crowds got there.
When we got inside, Connie excused herself to use the ladies room while I got her a glass of red wine and a glass of Yuengling Lager for me. After she returned, I handed her the wine and suggested that we go up to the balcony and find a seat since I had been standing for three and a half hours and my old body needed to sit down before I fell down.
"I thought the balcony seats were only for members of the theater and that the general public had to stay downstairs."
"No worries, volunteers can watch the show from anywhere except the box seats or backstage. Besides, I highly doubt that the balcony is packed, so we won't be taking anyone's seat."
We went upstairs and I was right, hardly anyone else there. We settled into a couple of seats and proceeded to relate our life experiences, a long term marriage for me then widowed, two marriages for her, a divorce after a short while and a second, longer, one which left her as a widow. I had two children, one of each, and she had one, a son who lived two states away. She was a retired school teacher, fifth grade, and I was still employed even though I was past the age a lot of people retire or are forced out by their employer.
"I'd probably rust if I retired. Besides, it allows me to eat pretty well, pay the mortgage and overall provides a comfortable existence."
I teased her about having a cat since I'm a dog person myself. "Cats are too aloof and don't care if you live or die as long as the food bowl is full and the litter box is relatively clean."
"But that what's so good about them. Give them extra food and clean the litter box and you can go away for two or three days with no worries. With a dog, you need a sitter to go away for more than twelve hours."
"That's true, but my dog can be a hundred feet away and when I call her, she comes running. A cat would stand there and look at you like 'Fuck you, I'll come when I'm ready and you better be ready to give me what I want when I get there'."
"Oh, you've met my cat." she laughed.
We chatted about our mutual love of music, reading real books, not e-books on a tablet or phone, and I was surprised to find out we shared a love of hockey. She also surprised me when she told me she loved knitting.
