Day: March 13, 2019

Purple Bow Tie o’ the Day showed off its glitzy gold rick-rack thread as I declared an official Swimming Suit Day in Las Vegas. Suzanne chose not to celebrate the holiday. Party pooper! In Tucson at the beginning of last week, I was busy gallivanting around seeing the cacTIE, so I didn’t have time to hang at the pool in my famous stripey, old timey bathing suit. I was darn sure gonna pool around when we got to Vegas. Alas! The temperature in Las Vegas during our stay was not conducive to pool possibilities.

But… you know me. If I want to wear my retro swimming suit, I will find a way. I will manufacture a reason to wear it. Thus, I declared the Swimming Suit Day holiday. On, went my groovy suit. On, went my jacket. On, went Bow Tie. My bathing suit got to do almost everything, except swim. It gambled at the penny slot machines with us. It sped down the zipline with us. We rode the bigly Ferris wheel. And we got our pictures “tooken” with the purple zebra in our hotel’s casino.

Note that Bow Tie got scared by the zebra, and stealthily hopped off my neck before Suzanne snapped the pic. I didn’t notice it had run away until we were back at our room. When I realized my neck was bare, I was sure Bow Tie was a goner. I imagined it being infinitely stepped on by steel-toed boots; flattened by road-building vehicles; and mangled by farm machinery. I was overcome with grief in the hotel room, while Suzanne went back down 17 floors to the purple zebra. When she came back, cradling the unscathed Bow Tie, she told me Bow Tie had been patiently sitting by the purple zebra, waiting to be retrieved. I have taught my bow ties that if we ever get separated, they should stay put where they are. And we’ll find ’em. It’s always good to know my neckwear listens to my admonitions.

Swimming Suit o’ the Day was giddy and exhausted by the end of our day’s adventures. You know how much I adore my stripey, old timey bathing suit. I didn’t want to take it off, so I slept in it. I’m thinking I will one day declare an official Swimming Suit Vacation. No other clothing allowed! I hope we’ll be going somewhere toasty on that vacation.

FYI I included my fave Dauphin Island, AL beach photo here, so you can see my entire swimming suit, in all its glory– in case you missed its debut last September.

The reason Bow Ties o’ the Day and Suzanne and I went to Las Vegas last week was because I just had to see the BAND OF HORSES concert, and Vegas was the closest place they were performing on their tour. Of course, as weird luck would have it, a few days before we flew to Vegas, BAND OF HORSES announced a gig in SLC in July. I immediately bought tickets for the SLC concert too. Seeing them twice will make me doubly gleeful in a BAND OF HORSES way. You will not hear me complaining. I love the band. Suzanne is learning to like the band. The concert pleased her immensely. Of course, her enjoyment of the music might have had something to do with the three margaritas she drank.

The concert was top-notch: excellent musicianship and superb energy. It was held in a venue called The Brooklyn Bowl, which we happened to be able to see from our hotel window. The Brooklyn Bowl is basically a 32-lane bowling alley– with a “pub food” restaurant, and a concert area. The place is funky. I was kinda hoping we could bowl while watching the concert, but that wasn’t allowed. It would have made a tremendous story.

I did a bad thing when we got to the concert space. I still feel guilty about it. And I knew I would feel guilty about it, but I did it anyway. You’ve heard of people “playing the race card.” You’ve heard of people “playing the woman card.” And playing other cards, as well. Right before the BAND OF HORSES concert began, I played what I will forever call THE SCAR CARD.

The music space was built for dancing. No chairs. The audience would be standing or dancing or whatever else you can do while on your feet, for the duration of the concert. I’ve been to plenty of concerts like this, and I kinda figured it was probably a standing-only show when I bought the tickets months ago. I also knew I would have a difficult time being on my feet for three hours. But I love BAND OF HORSES, so it was worth it to me to have to gut through it. If that’s how it had to be, that’s how it would have to be. I refused to miss out.

And then we got to concert venue floor. The reality of the situation hit me. My surgery spot still does weird tugs and pulls, and I still get tired easily, and I took that fall down the stairs a couple of weeks ago. Suzanne said, “You can’t do this.” We both knew it would be better for me to sit. I headed for some roped-off seating in the bar area, near the stage.

The seating was reserved for VIP’s and handicapped folks, and I am neither of those. There were a bunch of empty chairs. I decided to do something I have never done– even when I was first recovering from my operation, and sometimes should have. I played THE SCAR CARD. I explained to the security dude who guarded that section that I had recently had surgery, and I asked if it would be okay if I watched the concert from a chair. I even offered to show him my scar, which he said I didn’t need to do. (He is probably the only person on earth who has never seen my scar. You know how I like to show it.) He obligingly got me seated, and he happily let Suzanne sit there too. We had the best vantage point in the place for seeing the entire stage. I felt like a VIP.

I felt guilty when I first thought of the idea. I felt guilty before I gathered the nerve to actually ask. I felt guilty as I did it. I felt guilty throughout the concert. I felt guilty after the concert. And I still feel it. Nobody who needed to sit in the chair section was denied a seat cuz I was in a chair, but I still feel guilty. But even with all this guilt about merely sitting in a chair consuming me, I have said to Suzanne a couple of times since that night, “I can’t believe I could have been playing THE SCAR CARD for the last eight months. I should use it more often, for as long as I can.” And then I feel guilty about saying things like that. To be absolutely honest, I’m beginning to feel guilty about feeling guilty.