In July I am going to attend a Roger Waters concert at the Xcel Center, with a few friends scattered about the state. I saw him perform The Wall a few years back, and am excited to see what he has in store for us.
Last night I got a very rare opportunity to see him in a pre-concert performance in a school gymnasium. It reminded me a lot of an elementary school assembly in which we would all file down to the gym in order of height or maybe alphabet, and form rows and sit Indian-style on the floor. I was fortunate enough to be in the very front row which wasn't tough because the crowd was only a handful of people I knew that were also somehow selected for this exclusive sneak-peak. We sat, looked around for where we thought the giant inflatable pig might come from, and then the lights dimmed.
Mr. Waters' hair had grown substantially since I saw him last, and he appeared to be wearing a woman's dress; sequined, but not bedazzled. He began an inaudible tirade in opposition of our President-elect and we all cheered even though I didn't know what he was saying. I only knew because pictures of Donald Trump appeared as holograms all around us. You can always expect a good show from any Pink Floyd member.
I was anxious for the show to begin, and I couldn't wait for him to start to know which songs he would play, so I sought out the master play-list which I was certain would be located in a folder in a file cabinet, in the small room adjacent to the large, orange-lit gymnasium.
I entered what appeared to be a small workspace where several of the teachers were sitting in a circle of their own, telling tales of horrible children I assumed. There was a small table in the middle of the room which had a file folder on it clearly marked, Song list. I snuck through the middle of the encirclement and grabbed the folder just as I heard the first bass chord rock the building. Shit! I have to get back!
I hastily exited the small room and found that I had to dodge and duck what I was sure were deadly laser beams. The pig was already afloat overhead and had his rolling eyes trying to lock on me but he was floating in the wrong direction. I could see the controller behind the curtain, confounded that he could not turn it around in time to get me. He had a twirled mustache.
I made it safely back to my spot on the floor where I enjoyed the show with much amusement and spectacle. And then suddenly a terrifying noise made my body convulse with pain and fear. It was my alarm clock and I slowly drifted into reality, and pet my dog Willie on the head.
It was a hell of a dream, and now I'm here at the laminating factory where I wrote this from my phone in under 20 minutes. Now time for work!
Last night I got a very rare opportunity to see him in a pre-concert performance in a school gymnasium. It reminded me a lot of an elementary school assembly in which we would all file down to the gym in order of height or maybe alphabet, and form rows and sit Indian-style on the floor. I was fortunate enough to be in the very front row which wasn't tough because the crowd was only a handful of people I knew that were also somehow selected for this exclusive sneak-peak. We sat, looked around for where we thought the giant inflatable pig might come from, and then the lights dimmed.
Mr. Waters' hair had grown substantially since I saw him last, and he appeared to be wearing a woman's dress; sequined, but not bedazzled. He began an inaudible tirade in opposition of our President-elect and we all cheered even though I didn't know what he was saying. I only knew because pictures of Donald Trump appeared as holograms all around us. You can always expect a good show from any Pink Floyd member.
I was anxious for the show to begin, and I couldn't wait for him to start to know which songs he would play, so I sought out the master play-list which I was certain would be located in a folder in a file cabinet, in the small room adjacent to the large, orange-lit gymnasium.
I entered what appeared to be a small workspace where several of the teachers were sitting in a circle of their own, telling tales of horrible children I assumed. There was a small table in the middle of the room which had a file folder on it clearly marked, Song list. I snuck through the middle of the encirclement and grabbed the folder just as I heard the first bass chord rock the building. Shit! I have to get back!
I hastily exited the small room and found that I had to dodge and duck what I was sure were deadly laser beams. The pig was already afloat overhead and had his rolling eyes trying to lock on me but he was floating in the wrong direction. I could see the controller behind the curtain, confounded that he could not turn it around in time to get me. He had a twirled mustache.
I made it safely back to my spot on the floor where I enjoyed the show with much amusement and spectacle. And then suddenly a terrifying noise made my body convulse with pain and fear. It was my alarm clock and I slowly drifted into reality, and pet my dog Willie on the head.
It was a hell of a dream, and now I'm here at the laminating factory where I wrote this from my phone in under 20 minutes. Now time for work!
