OK, so I did get into the Dylan/Mavis Staples concert. There were tickets available at the box office, but I spent $80 for a ticket on the street with a guy who, and this is uncommon, eventually went in himself because those are actually his seats. Dylan was fine; didn't speak at all, just ran through his rearranged songs and the standards he's into these days.
Need to talk about the security screening when I went through. When I laid my coat next to the, uh, receptacle next to the metal scanner, the "security" guard told me that I need to take all the contents out of my coat. That is something new. I have never heard of that before. And if you know me, you know that there is a lot of stuff in my coat. And I have to take all of it out?!
I will admit that I didn't take it well, and I let her know this through my body language. But shoot, if I have to take all the shit out of my coat, I have to take all my shit out of my coat. And so I did -- my old towlettes, my old tissues, oh-oh-oh, my keys, and I forgot that I had another set of keys in the small right front pocket, too. Yes, I was kind of a dick. But I have a lot of things in my coat, and I was doing my best to take them out, like the security guard told me to. Maybe I could have gone faster, but I was ordered to empty everything, and that's what I was doing.
Well, she got tired of that, and she let me know about it. First she said, "You don't have to take your papers out of your coat." Well then, why did you tell me I had to take everything out of my coat? And then she ordered me to get going and get through the scanner because I was holding up the line. Bitch (I know people are very sensitive about that gender-based insult, but I need to keep it -- I should blog about this some other time), I am doing what you said the best way I can do it. And, in a sign that I might be learning to clap back at people insulting me, I must have said something to that effect because she said something like, "I will not tolerate you being sarcastic with me," to which I said, I think/I hope, "Don't threaten me, I'm taking the stuff out of my pockets, and I paid for this ticket." And I hope/I think that her silence and the rest of my ugly time at this checkpoint, where I finally got through, got wanded by another security guard, gathered all my things (as quickly as I could; I may have bumped into her) and got my ticket scanned, was her hearing my demand that she stop threatening me.
And that was that. Well, there was a loud and yappy old woman two rows behind me being a loud cunt (no, I shouldn't say that, either, but I love that word as an insult) complaining that "Bobby" was going onstage as soon as she liked. And when we were leaving the woman who was seated next to me (apparently the wife of the man whose ticket I bought) told me, "Go! Go!" as we were trying to leave the arena. "Hold on," I told that pushy tramp (gender-based insult). I wanted to leave too, and as soon as I got to the hallway, Zoom! I tried to get away from her as fast as possible. I'll let her go because we both wanted to leave, and also because when Mavis Staples was on, she went through my row twice because she was lost and didn't know where her seat was, so she was kind of fucking batty.
At least I can cross Dylan off my bucket list because I don't have to deal with Dylan fans anymore.
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