Cowardice at the Concert

A blizzard and a fifty car accident had me stuck 50 miles from home again. I was wondering who's sofa I'd end up on when my boss said she'd let me expense a room at Beaver Creek.

Cool! My frozen lemons just became lemonade! Deciding to take advantage of the spontaneous evening that God was handing me I splurged on a nice dinner and overheard people talking about the concert they were going to right by my hotel...Bob Marley and the Wailers.(Bob Marley couldn't make it). I'm not a big concert goer, but a "why not" urge had me handing over $40 for 2 hours of island sounds in a snow storm.

I don't go to many concerts because I'm never sure how to act at them and going byself was even more disconcerting. I might have been happy just closing my eyes and listening to the music, but if I was going to do that I might as well just be in my room listening to my ipod. So I tried to get into it and as the audience stood, I stood with them. I clapped and whooped with them. I didn't feel terribly alone because I saw a dozen other self concious men looking around for guidance on how to behave. But it was watching the women that was really worth the price of admission.

She caught my eye when I first sat down two seats away. We smiled and nodded at each other and looked back to the stage. When people rose and started dancing she removed her jacket and manuevered next to me, looking great in her tank and surprisingly tan for March.

I don't do bars or night clubs because I never mastered "the approach". Whatever physical signals women are sending out are a mystery to me. Apparently there are books, blogs, and videos on the subject but I'm sure I still couldn't figure it out. But she was definitely interested. She didn't need to dance on my lap to make her point. Her signals were strong and she might as well have handed me a card saying "Talk to me".

You can pull a muscle if you just jump into the game without warming up, so I started to internally practice a few good opening lines.

"Hi"
"Great concert"
"I'm Jim"
"Bob Marley's dead, you know"
"Having a good time?"
"You smell like pot."
"Why are you looking at me?"
"I've got a room next door"
"You look fantastic"
"Here, pull my finger!"

You've already seen the title of this story, so you know how it ends. I didn't end up using any of these lines, but if there are any good ones I'd hate to see them go to waste so please feel free to use them if you'd like. Instead, I spent a couple of songs screwing up my courage (and screwing up an opportunity) until the band took a break. She looked me in the eye on the way to the lobby and even touched my arm to get past. She may have rolled her eyes and shook her head but that could be my imagination punishing me.

Sighhhh...

20 minutes later I was in my room watching the Discovery channel in my underwear.

That's the end of my story. But as you know, I like to wrap up with some sort of moral...some sort of point I'm trying to make. Aesop, Jesus, and me....we all dig the parables and I can't let those two down so here's what I've got.....

Reach for the stars - He who hesitates is lost - Fortune befriends the bold - A faint heart never won a fair maiden - Men who try to do something and fail are better off than those who try nothing and succeed - All BULLSHIT!

The only point I'm trying to make is that they call it a "comfort zone" for a reason....It's comfortable.

....ok that's weak... but she was probably some sort of serial killer that targets bold men anyway.