Grown Up Trends.

Lately, I’ve been catching myself doing some very adult like things.

How does one classify an adult like thing? Easy. If you were to go back in time and tell my 21 year old self about whatever I was doing and you’d elicit an eye-roll or two?

Adult-like behavior.

During our Josh Ritter mini-tour this past weekend, my friend and I stayed in a hotel Saturday evening. When we checked in at the front desk around 3pm, the receptionist asked if we were there for the concert. Cat and I exchanged a quick, confused glance and replied with an enthused “Yeah!” Josh Ritter is great and wonderful and so very talented, but he’s got a relatively small following and plays smaller theater-esque venues. So clearly, Cat and I were both thinking the same thing when the woman asked us – there are other Josh Ritter groupies staying here too? And what room are they in because we need to inform them that WE’RE his #1 fans?! Then the hotel clerk mentioned we’d be hitting a lot of traffic in route to the show. “You know, all that tailgating and caravanning.” she explained. Again, Cat and I raised our eyes at one another and looked at her, slightly dumbfounded. “You are here for the Phish show, right?” she asked.

Ah. Suddenly it’s clear.

“Oh no. No. Josh Ritter. At the Calvin Theater?"

“Oh. Gotcha. Much different.”

“Ha. Yes. There was a time when hours of jam-bands were appealing…about six years ago.”

So while hundreds of hippies and Phish-heads jammed and danced and smoked whatever those kids are smoking these days, my friend and I grabbed a light dinner at a local joint and found our way into the Calvin Theater. We each purchased a beer and found our (orchestra seating!) seats. While we were waiting for Josh to come onstage, my friend turned to me: “You know? I have to say, I’m really okay with these seated concerts. It’s just so much more pleasant not to shove your way through a crowd.”

******

On Sunday morning, Cat and I rose bright-eyed, still glowing from the previous night’s concert. We turned on the television to a mutual favorite, CBS Sunday Morning, while we got ready for the day. “What shall we do this morning after we get brunch?” Cat asked. “Well, I’d kind of like to tour the Emily Dickinson house if you’re up for it.” I replied. “Oh, perfect! I’d love that.” Cat exclaimed.

And I had to laugh.

“Cat. I think this means we’re officially old. If we were twenty we would’ve been playing music this entire time we’ve been getting ready - NOT watching a news program - and we’d be talking about hitting the clothing shops before driving home.”

Cat smiled.

“Actually, it’s 9:30 on a Sunday. If we were twenty, we wouldn’t have even rolled out of bed yet.”