Bethy and I are sitting on a blanket at the Silverlake Amphitheater here in Eagle Mountain, waiting for BlackHawk (one of my favorite bands from my teenage years) to come onto the stage. We just heard one of my other old favorite, Little Texas, and other than the slightly depressing “aging country band” vibe, they were great. I’m excited for BlackHawk, and I am excited for the final band, Restless Heart, another band I used to really like.

But the reason I am blogging from my iPhone instead of waiting until we get home is the characters. Oh, the characters. There’s a creepy lady who looks to be in her mid-to-late 50s, who has been up front all night, even during the lousy opening band and the CDs playing between acts, dancing her creepy old heart out. She’s wearing tight leather pants and a gold sequin shirt. She only knows about three dance moves, so it always looks like no matter what song is playing, Chubby Checker is doing The Twist in her crazy old head. I tried to get a video and a picture with my phone, so if they work our, I’ll post them later.

There’s also a lady in front of us who laughs like Woody Woodpecker, and like most people with terrible laughs, she thinks everything is funny.

BlackHawk is starting, so I’ll write more when they’re done.

Okay, BlackHawk is done, and they were awesome. Henry Paul has a great voice, and he hasn’t lost anything over the years. (It probably helps that he was already old-ish when the band formed, so his sound was already established.) Anyway, more of the characters while we wait for Restless Heart. By my count, there are at least three ladies here whose main objective is to become impregnated by an aging country star (sorry, ladies, but judging by how out of breath the Little Texas dude got just from singing, I doubt that he’s up for extracurriculars). The best thing about these gals is that they are the type who … how do I put this delicately … well, let’s just say their strategy of wearing tiny clothes is not befitting their body types. (I know what I’m talking about when it comes to body types, too, which is why I chose NOT to wear a miniskirt and tube top tonight.)

Oh, there’s also a large motherly lady who was WAY too into “Save A Horse, Ride A Cowboy,” which is just icky. It reminded me of the lady at the Barry Manilow concert back in 2002 who, when Barry sang “When will our eyes meet, when can I touch you,” waved her large, flabby arms and screamed, “Right now, Barry!!!!!!!!” There are just some thing I don’t need to see or hear.

Well, Restless Heart is almost up, so I’ll finish up when we get home.