2003-11-09 - 12:03 p.m.

So anyway, I went last night, and I gotta tell you, I had no IDEA there were so many Texans in this city. It was a good, fun show, stupid girls in front of me nonewithstanding, and the crowd was RIDICULOUS.

They were drunk, red-faced and screaming, pumping fists, waving cowboy hats, and holding up their beer cans. It was quite an experience, actually, and I don't think I've been knocked into by so many staggering drunk boys since college. This is not the usual show scene in NY, as the lead singer of the opening band mentioned. He was telling everyone to clap their hands, to put them together, and first the response was tepid (the Texans hadn't arrived yet, waiting for the headliner)and he said that on the road, no one wants to play NYC, because the audiences think they're too COOOOL to participate. Heh. You know that up to that point, I was being too cool myself. Plus I don't like to be told what to do. "Put your hands together, people" sounds to my ears like "Follow me, lemmings!" I fear it's a slippery slope to yelling BAM! in the EmerILL audience. Makes me want to cross my arms.Yes, I am 12 years old.

The only bad thing were the two girls in front of me. There at the show with their young Texan husbands, they wedged their way up front and then proceeded to carry on a screaming conversation the whole time. I wanted to slap that pink straw cowboy hat (which blocked my view) right off her head.

And then, when it was ending, I ducked out early to beat the coat check line, and then came back upstairs and stood outside the room, where I could still hear the music, and see the boyfriend and our friend. And a little boy came up to me, I swear to you he looked about 15 years old, with dark hair and olive skin and a little tiny wispy fringe of hair on his top lip. He leans in and says, "I hate this fucking shit. Who can listen to this crap? I can't even tap my foot to this." I'm surprised, a little, and so I say, (charmer that I am) "How do you know this isn't my all time favorite band and you're insulting me?" And he replies, "No one who likes this country shit would be dressed like you. Cowboy chicks don't wear motorcycle boots." Hm, good point - and then I realized with horror that he was trying to pick me up. And for your amusement, here are some of the lines he tried:

"So, I just moved her from LA - where you goin to party tonight?"

I restrained myself from correcting his grammar, you'll be glad to know. I did say, however, that this is it for us, my boyfriend and I, we don't go to clubs. And he said, "We? What's this we shit? I don't want to hear about your stupid boyfriend. And why is he letting a beautiful girl like you stand out here alone?" HA. Did I mention that this kid is no bigger than me, and that I'm quite small? I'm almost laughing, and then he says, "So. You do coke?" And then I did laugh. No, I don't do coke, and he smiled and said, "don't worry, I'm not a cop." I was real worried, I thought maybe they changed the requirements for law enforcement and that they were now recruiting 90 pound 12 year olds.

"I'm in finance. You know anything about finance? " So I play along, and say, yes, and he says.

"I manage a $6.5 billion dollar fund." And looks expectantly at me. I say nothing, and he says "That always makes everyone stop. $6.5 billion, that's big time. I own the company. Well, my Dad owns it." And I said, "Hey. Dude. This isn't LA. No one cares." "Oh, they care." "Well I don't. And just how old are you anyway?" And he leans back, smiles and POSES, and says, "How old do you think?" I guess (kindly, I don't say 12) and he tells me, and then asks how old I am. And you know what I tell him, right?

OLD ENOUGH TO BE YOUR MOTHER.

How come normal guys never try to pick me up? Oh yeah. Because I'm a freak magnet.

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