OMGIHTBT

(translated: Oh My God(dess) I have To Blog This)


I go to the Hard Rock for lunch today to enjoy some classic Pig Sandwich goodness. (they've renamed it the Pulled Pork sandwich, but it's still a pig sandwich, and if you order that, they know exactly what you're talking about).

Anyway... enjoying tunes, enjoying my surprisingly enjoyable Forgotten Realms novel, when I hear eight steady same-tone beats that gives away an extremely familiar song without bothering to turn around to see what video now is playing.

But like just about everyone else in the place at the time who was 30 or older, I turn to the TVs NOT showing last night's taped Red Sox loss to relish a kickass video moment gone by. Ah yes, there he was-- Bono in all of his free mane, unbuttoned shirt, unsunglassed-ness godly goodness interrupting downtown Los Angles with an impromptu set on top of the liquor store. Edge looking like... Edge (he doesn't age, does he?). I always had a thing for Edge, too. I hadn't seen this video in a long time. And it's an adrenaline rush song for me nearly every time I hear it. I literally stop eating to just enjoy the video.

It's pathetic that the Hard Rock plays more video than MTV these days. Of any genre.

But anyway, lots of slight nodding going on to the beat. We're all in synch, enjoying good music. Some people go back to chatting with their tablemates, and it's business as usual at the Hard Rock.

UNTIL...

Some dickhead teenybopper (okay, maybe a bit older than a teenybopper, but if this kid's in college, I'd be shocked) states "If they're going to play some U2, at least play the good new stuff instead of this old shit."

Two thoughts--

1) The fact that this kid managed to make a comment clearly audible to everyone save perhaps the kitchen staff in the fucking HARD ROCK CAFE was quite impressive

2) The fact that nearly EVERY HEAD in the restaurant turned and gave this kid a look that either spit daggers or shocked at the "old shit" comment was amusing as hell.

And one waiter, who looked to be my age, give or take a couple years, went up to the kid, and said (now easily audible, since it was near silent at the Hard Rock... U2 was winding down and the cops were shooing them at this point) "We don't bash any music in here, kid. I guarantee there's more than one person in here who would probably describe your favorite band as pure shit. So if you don't like it, talk to your friend and deal for four minutes or go elsewhere."

Smattering of applause. Many smirks. Kid is humiliated. Eating recommences.

The next song starts, and I doubt I was the only person fighting to keep diet coke from going up my nose as the first riff starts. I turn-- and many others (including the waiter) turn to look at the kid, who now looks to be in physical, tortured pain but keeps his mouth firmly shut.

Well, you can tell by the way I use my walk, I’m a woman’s man... no time to talk.


Guess he don't like disco either, eh?



You can't script life this enjoyably. You just can't.

:)