Look Out! Pregnant Girl in the Front Row!

I had a terrible decision to make last night. As we walked into the venue where my favorite band was about to perform, and we happened to be among the very first few through the door at a general admission concert, my body in all of its wonder just drifted along to an empty spot along the front row, center railing. That was my spot. It called to me. My husband, however, who was looking at the very few seats in the back because he was worried that I might want to sit at some point, was, to say the least, none too pleased. I really had to make my case for this. (And by the way, since when have the effects of concert-going on one's hearing become an issue to my husband, who I've recently discovered is a 55-year-old man trapped in a 34-year-old man's body!?)

So there I was. I was seeing my favorite band ever, 5 months pregnant and belly a-bulging, and there was a spot in the very, very, front just for me. Not close the the front. The front. It was like the front row parted just for me. Literally. I cannot explain fate. So recap. I can stand in the dream spot. OR. (and here's the decision part): Anticipate the fact that there will be pushing, shoving, possibly moshing, the need to piddle at least one time during the night (AT LEAST!) and several hours of standing. Not to mention the monstrous speakers staring at me at eye-level and the potential of various clouds of smoke wafting in my direction, i.e. tobacco, potpourri, and that "other tobacco" that isn't quite legal.

I chose the front row.

Go ahead. Judge away! Yes, on paper it sounds crazy. But I'm pregnant, not disabled and last night, I shook hands with my favorite lead singer of my favorite band and I rocked out like a teenager. My method: I was able to maneuver my arms around the front row blockade in such a way that, if necessary, I could guard my precious belly with my arms. Also, husband was directly behind me and provided a very protective barrier around me. He also loosened up after two beers. I think I even caught him having (dare I say it!?) fun! (Egad!) And, to boot, thankfully most of the people directly surrounding us were aware of my pregnant self and even better, the only people moshing/slash/fighting were a couple of past-their-prime-stuck-in-the-80's-hairband-era-dyed-blonde-broads who were scolded for fighting by bouncers and Kevin, the lead singer himself, from the stage in the middle of a song. The second-hand-smoke was kind of a problem, but I was able to hold my breath as the pot clouds moved by. I won't lie. There were only two times in which I re-thunk my decision. The first was when we overheard a group of people talking about how there were not one, but TWO, opening bands. Yikes! I realized I was in trouble with the pee part right then when it was 7:30 and Candlebox was probably not even coming on until 10. And then, when husband left to use the restroom right before Candlebox came on, there was a rush of people mushing up trying to get closer and I thought, "OK. This is bad. Not only will husband not be able to protect me from the possibility of moshing, but I will certainly be squashed." But he returned about a minute after I thought that and all was ok.

I do admit that the pee part became a problem during the encore of Candlebox because the baby began continuously kicking at my bladder, but they had sung all the songs I had gone there to see already anyway, so we left about 5 minutes early. I was satisfied. Big time. And sweaty (sweat moustache was out in full force in all its glory in the summer humidity). And I was spent. I realize it was a gamble, but I really saw the chips in my favor and I don't think I could recreate a scenario as perfect as last night's experience, even if I tried in the best non-pregnant circumstances. The concert gods were watching.

So some good news, especially for you Anna Mary (and boy did I miss you there last night!!) Candlebox is releasing a new album next year and I will be as excited about its release as I was for the latest Harry Potter installment. Woohoo! They played a couple songs off of it, and I can tell you, it is good stuff. It is not at all like the sad failure that was "Happy Pills", their second album, which I think I may like just one song from. They took their time with this one, so it better be good. By the way, I didn't see this coming, Candlebox has lost the long-haired grunge look completely and now looks like a morph between The Killers and a Euro glam-band. But it was good for me. Almost 15 years later, they still rock.