Mere hours before I was singing Kumbaya with a hundred of my closest friends and sharing a bathroom with seven people, I was eating lunch with the fabulous Amy of Snarky Mommy at a fancy VIP lounge that was part of a large music and technology festival that my town has every year.
After all my fashion angst and related shopping, Ryan helped me make the final decision. I came downstairs in a funky skirt I had bought and a black tank top. "You look nice!" Ryan said. Then I threw on some khaki short shorts and a flowy charcoal top that showed a lot of collarbone. When I got downstairs in that Ryan dropped the toy tool box he had been carrying and sputtered "You look HOT!" The decision was made, in other words. All I needed was the perfect pair of platinum gladiator sandals that I could see in my mind's eye but for some reason could not find at the store.
In the morning after I left the kids with the sitter, ran to the store for their lunch, ran back to my house to drop it off (planning ahead FAIL) and pick up my camera, I stopped at Target, where they HAD MY PERFECT SHOES. I bought them and a pack of diapers without a moment's hesitation. Then I went to Panera, not so much because I was hungry but mostly because I wouldn't have to share, and then I went to the train station where parking was surprisingly not a hassle and there were plenty of seats to choose from on the waiting train.
The train ride was filled with festival people and when they announced that we were approaching the Downtown Station several people cheered. The station was only a block from the restaurant where I met Amy and it wasn't long before I was drinking Mimosas at 11:30 on a weekday.
Mimosas were free, by the way, because Amy got me THIS:
(Taken in the privacy of my dining room afterward where I no longer had to pretend to be cool)
In addition to the alcohol, I also had some fondue, a grilled cheese with pesto and jalepenos, and some bread pudding. A healthy balanced meal. If you are Paula Deen. But I digress.
Every once in a while a man stood behind my chair and taped some kind of VH1 interlude while talking very, very slowly. It was unnerving at first, but after the second mimosa I thought it might be kind of cool if someone saw the back of my head on VH1. Especially because I was never allowed to watch it until I went to college, which is why I am so cool today that I look forward to the pipe organ show on NPR Sunday afternoons.
Amy's event-promoter friend stopped by the table briefly to ask Amy and her husband Josh which bands they wanted to see. Eminem was discussed. There was talk of the previous night's Snoop show. I was in awe. And also jealous. Though I was very much looking forward to camp at the same time. Amy is so smart and fun and the setting was so perfect, three hours flew by in an instant and soon it was time to tear myself away to catch the train home. Where I was nearly knocked to the ground by an older woman muttering something about "not enough seats on the train" (there were).
An hour later I was driving a fully-loaded minivan three hours out into the country. And no, the kids did not treat me like a VIP, even after I explained what the badge meant. Whatever.