Every January, Sam and I spend a weekend in the city. Without kids. And it's rather nice to get away and relax by ourselves for a bit, pampered in a hotel and having nothing to do but shop and dine for several days. Last year, the youth group went to a concert the weekend we were in Pittsburgh, and we scrambled to make arrangements for overnight stays with friends and such. And then we got to talking about the concert, and how it sounded kind of fun, and then Sam said, "maybe we should go next year. Wouldn't that be fun."
I swear, he said it. We've been arguing that point for a while now. We signed up to go this year, and by "we" I want to clarify that it was really "I did it to support my husband because he said he'd like to go, and while it won't be horrible, it won't be awesome, either." I know. The sacrifices I make for our marriage are astounding sometimes.
So Sam and I took 27 teens to a concert at Penn State University. Confession: that was the first time in my life I've ever been on campus. I'm not sure how I can call myself a Pennsylvanian and admit that, but there it is in black and white. And worse than taking 27 teens to a concert was the fact that we stood in line to get into the concert for 2.5 hours in 30 degree weather. And by 30 degrees, I mean it was 30 degrees, not 30-something. I'm can tolerate cold, and 30 isn't as cold as all that, right up until you have to stand in it for 2.5 hours. Walking in it, working in it, sledding in it - that's all vastly different than standing. Not only did I wear a coat, but I zipped it. That is a testament to how cold we all were. I cannot remember the last time I zipped a coat. I kid you not that it's been so many years that I lost track. The kids started playing the "would you rather be standing in the cold or...." game. Becky decided she'd rather be bitten by a shark. At least then she'd be rushed to the hospital. Where it would be warm.
To the best of my knowledge, nobody got frostbite. Or hypothermia.
And then the good and kind people in charge of the concert let us in 20 minutes earlier than we'd expected. There was no mass stampeding, however, because our toes were too numb to do much more than shuffle. And thankfully, it was instant warmth once we were inside the building.
I will fully admit that I spent the first 30 minutes of the concert watching the professional photographers like teen girls would be watching Justin Bieber. I have no idea what bands were playing while I wished for nothing more than to play with equipment that cost more than my van. I didn't lust, however, because I knew I had no need of equipment that awesome. But one can play, right? And then I spent the second half hour wondering why I didn't bring my own camera. Besides the fact that the Winter Jam website said that cameras weren't permitted. I still didn't pay attention to the bands, because I was busy thinking how I'd get this shot, or how awesome that one would be. It was almost a physical pain that I felt, longing for the camera that I left at home. Don't laugh. I love photography.
And then I got lost in the concert, and it was so awesome that I forgave the weather, and forgot about the cameraman for a few hours, and didn't even have to worry about 27 kids because they, too, were engrossed in the music. And I realized that apparently I'm not as old as I thought I was, because the noise only made my ears ring for a few hours and didn't deafen me altogether. Really, the night was a win all around. And we didn't lose any kids. Or toes.
There are no photos. If you don't know this, you should probably go read the post again because you missed that part.
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