The Big Night Out
I have a raging headache this morning and not for the reasons you might think. My friend Chris says that sometimes you should look a gift -horse in the mouth. (Wonder how this expression will translate? Der geschenkte Gaul does exist in German).
I was really excited on Wednesday because I found out I had won two free tickets to see a comedian. I only entered that contest because I thought it would be fantastic to be able to take my sister somewhere when she came over next week. Anyway, it turned out that the tickets were for last night, not next Friday, so I dragged Chris along who was rather reluctant to go out in the first place. I was really looking forward to it as it was a lovely mild night and it’s been a while since I last went to a pub at night.
Last time I came to this pub it used have quite pleasant Celtic music and Poetry Readings on Thursday nights. Now it was booming and crashing with Drum and Base, several decibels above the pain threshold. While my solar plexus kept time with the beat, Chris spent most of the evening outside, several blocks away, waiting for the supporting act to finish. I tried very hard to keep an open mind, keeping my fingers crossed that the main event would make it all worthwhile and that Chris would forgive me someday. Chris’s usual metier is filming opera stars.
After a couple of tortured hours, the comedian turned out to be a Rapper. Whatever pearls of wisdom and wit were falling from his lips, they were swallowed up in the wall to wall racket. Chris left after the opening bars. I left a few minutes later. My sister will be eternally grateful that I didn’t take her. She is even more sensitive to noise than I am. Obviously she has not had the acoustic resistance training you get (read selective deafness) living in a house full of teenagers.
I was really glad to be home. Silence is indeed golden, though it took a while for the ringing in my ears to stop. Still a bit too revved up to go to sleep, I found a couple of late, late comedies on the ABC and made myself a coffee with a dash of Tia Maria. I suppose it’s another sign that I have passed my use – by date - when you have more fun at home than you do going out for a night on the town.