Life Is a Highway

Teri and I had a lot of fun at the Rascal Flatts concert on Thursday night. It was the perfect first Rascal Flatts concert for me, because it was a “greatest hits” tour.

The night started with dinner from mine and Teri’s favorite fast food place, Carl’s Jr. We went to one in Murray, which had the slowest drive-up line of all time. I got my $6 burger eventually, though, so it was all good. (Sidenote: remember when the point of the $6 burger was that it was the quality of a restaurant burger without the actual $6 price tag? Now that they cost that much, shouldn’t they change the name?)

We proceeded to the Energy Solutions Arena, and we found a GREAT parking lot less than a block away that only cost $5. Since it was passed the Arena, I think most people didn’t know about it.

We walked across the street to the Arena, and there were TONS of people gathered outside. Two country radio stations were blasting out crappy music (Rascal and Lonestar are about the only country I like) and having contests. I dared Teri to walk up to them and say “This is Larry H. Miller’s viewing, right?” but she wouldn’t. CHICKEN!

We made our way inside and found our seats, which were pretty decent, and they were on an aisle, which is great for leg room, and for making sure you don’t have anyone weird next to you. Unless you’re not the person right on the aisle. Hehe. Poor Teri was stuck next to some girl and her boyfriend, and neither one of them had any concept of personal space or how to behave in public. The girl kept crowding Teri, and she would take her jacket on and off and lean on Teri every time she did. They walked over us probably 10 times over the night, and every time, the guy (who was little and scrawny, and DWARFED by his girlfriend) would say “Sorry, bro. Last time, I swear.” They REEKED of cigarette smoke, and every time they walked by, I longed for a can of Febreeze (vanilla scent, maybe). The girl’s hair looked like some kind of abstract painting that is best viewed while on drugs. During the concert, they actually started making out. I almost got a picture of it, but decided that was almost as rude as they were, so I refrained. I DID get this picture of her butt, though, just for blog’s sake. You can kind of see the guy behind her, wearing his Michael Vick jersey. KLASSY!

Don’t give all of your sympathy to Teri, though. There were two HUGE women in front of me. You know that smell when morbidly obese people get bacteria between their rolls, and they don’t clean it out very well? Imagine two people who smell like that, crammed into small seats at the hot Arena, sitting right in front of you. Now imagine that every time they shift in their seats, the smell gets kicked up (this also includes when they start waving their fists in the air and yelling “Rascal Flatts”). Also, imagine that when one gets up to go somewhere, she leans over you as she tries to steady herself going up the steps, and you get her armpit right in your face. Teri had Smokey the Bear, but I had his cousins Stinky and Stanky.

Before the concert, they had some company that was sponsoring a contest to get backstage passes to meet the band. All you had to do was text a message to a certain number, and then it would be displayed on huge screens at the arena. I sent 4 messages over and over, and 3 made it up to the screen multiple times. The first message didn’t get up there once. I thought it was the funniest one. The one that made it up the most was “I totally kick booty on Me and My Gang on Guitar Hero!” (which got several chuckles when it went up the first time) followed by “I taught my little youth theatre kids Life Is a Highway and they LOVED singing and dancing to it. Such a blast!” The other one that made it up was stupid, and the original message was about how I’d stolen my date from a guy named Jared. (Teri’s coworkers were teasing her about her “date” with me that night, and her boss referred to me as “Jared.”)

The opening act was Jessica Simpson. Remember almost 10 years ago when I had a major crush on her? And then she married Nick Lachey, and we all found out how dumb she was? I wish I had seen her 10 years ago, but not this week. Her country music sucks. And it’s mostly a bastardized hybrid of country and Christian. She was wearing ridiculously short Daisy Dukes (ha!), probably in an effort to prove she’s not fat after the “mom jeans” scandal. However, if you’re trying to prove that you’re not fat, you should probably not wear a top that is so big it could have fit one of the ladies in front of me. She looked like she was trying to hide a pregnancy or something. Tent on top, miniscule cutoffs on bottom. Weird.

Rascal Flatts was awesome. They talked a little too much for my taste, and a lot of their jokes were stupid (ie, Jay’s rant about rednecks in Utah), but I loved their performance. My biggest pet peeve about their set was that they found a way to work either “Utah” or “Salt Lake” into almost every single one of their songs. I hate it when artists do that. Do I really need a reminder of where I am? It does not give me a thrill to hear you say my home state or capital when you’re singing for me. Just sing the original lyrics – unless you’re Jessica Simpson, and you forget the original lyrics….that you wrote…

Overall, the concert was not the best one I’ve ever attended, but it was definitely not the worst, either. One of the funniest things was how Teri and I are so NOT part of the core audience of Rascal Flatts. I described us to Stephanie as “A teacher and his off-duty lunchlady sidekick in a sea of white trash.”

This year may even top 2007 as my best year for concerts, and Rascal Flatts started it out well. Up next, Mat Kearney & Keane, followed by…KELLY CLARKSON!!!