Anyone remember that scene from Gone with the Wind where a shamed Scarlett O'Hara is forced to attend a party with her southern neighbors? She doesn't want to go and Rhett basically drags her out the door.
Replace Scarlett with Marianne, party with Tom Petty cover band, and southern with southside Chicago, and you'd pretty much understand my situation last night.
It's not that I don't like live music. Or my neighbors. Or going out. But it was a long day with the kids and I was cranky. In addition, I'm just not a big Tom Petty fan. And this wasn't even the real Tom Petty. I mean, I'd do a fake Neil Diamond or a fake Barenaked Ladies, but a fake Tom Petty?
It felt wrong.
Three hours later, I was the one who was wrong. The "we do everyone" band Tributosaurus rocked it at the Beverly Arts Center (Chicago's response to the John F. Kennedy Center for the Performing Arts). There was beer! There were relatives! And best of all? There was THIS guy:
You remember Steve, right? The man who believes it is better to be funny than proud. Let's just say there was a lot of rushing the stage to dance with 50 year old women last night for good ol' Steve. My sister-in-law Missy decided to bet me that I wouldn't do the same. Missy, of course, is way cooler than I after coming off her backstage visit with Train last weekend:
Never one to be outdone, I picked up Missy's gauntlet and ran to the stage. Like I really need to be encouraged?
So husband Joe and I danced like four-beer fools to Mary Jane's Last Dance. The song is about marijuana. I've never done marijuana. But somehow dancing to a song about marijuana made me feel part of the counter-culture. After the show, I did something else very unlike me:
I demanded Mexican food. With bean dip.
I don't even like Mexican food. And I hate bean dip.
It tasted divine.
So there's a whole new Marianne in town. A Tom Petty-loving, stage-rushing, Mexican food-eating Marianne.
What she has in store for next weekend is anyone's guess.