Class Mom

“I know! It was kind of a last-minute decision.”


“I heard.” I give her an expectant look.

“Did Vivs tell you about Travis?” She is blushing.

“Yes. He sounds really cool. Can’t wait to hear him play.”

“Wait, are you coming tonight?” I can’t tell if she is excited or horrified.

“Yes! Vivs invited me and I invited Peeta and Buddy and Nina and Garth.”

“Oh, my God, Mom! Are you kidding me?” Yup, horrified.

“No, it’ll be fun!”

“Not for me! I don’t want Travis to have to meet all of you.” She’s whining now.

“Don’t be silly. He doesn’t even have to know we’re there.”

“Oh, yeah, right. I’m going to kill her. Vivs!” she suddenly screams at the top of her lungs.

“Laura! Stop yelling. We’re going to come and see Sucker Punch play”—try saying that with a straight face—“and have a fun night out. If you don’t want us to meet Travis, fine. We’ll meet him another time. But we’re coming. I haven’t seen a live band in ages.”

Laura is still sporting a pout, but she doesn’t say anything else except “Fine,” and stomps up the back stairs, no doubt to lay her wrath at Vivs’s doorstep. Better Vivs than me. I need to find a place for all of us to eat before the concert.

*

After dinner at our local Bonefish Grill—picked because of its proximity to Town Hall—we all stroll over to the venue. I have been eyeing Nina and Garth all night and I’ve come to the conclusion that I will learn nothing from watching them. They don’t give anything away except the idea that they are a very happy couple.

We all get in line to buy tickets and discover that, believe it or not, Sucker Punch is not the headliner. That distinction goes to an all-girl Led Zeppelin cover band called Lez Zeppelin. Sucker Punch is one of two opening acts.

Ron has his arm around me as we walk through the door, give the tattooed gentleman $40, and get our hands stamped. Our hands stamped! It’s been too many years since I’ve had the telltale sign of a night out imprinted on the back of my hand. I can’t help feeling a bit giddy.

We stop by the mandatory coat check and entrust our garments to a painted lady whose T-shirt says “Call Me Maybe.” She doesn’t give us a ticket in return, and I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever see my black sheepskin jacket again.

Town Hall is exactly what it sounds like—an all-purpose venue used for everything from Christian revivals to Zumba classes. It is a very large rectangular room with a stage at one end and a balcony that runs along the other three sides. It has the feel of a school gymnasium but without the smell of utility balls. You can pretty much hold any event here, but you cannot serve alcohol. It’s a municipal rule that has been challenged many times over the years but has yet to be changed.

The joint is packed with the unwashed youth of KC. Okay, they probably aren’t unwashed so much as trying to look that way. I don’t really get the whole ripped-jeans, holes-in-the-T-shirt, bedhead look that seems to be so popular, but then again, I’m sure my mom didn’t get the slutty-biker-chick look that I sported as a teen.

There are no seats, of course, so we all just stand around waiting for something to happen. Soon enough, a group of kids, dressed pretty much like their audience, ambles onto the stage with guitars and start plugging into the amplifiers. There is some ungodly noise as they get tuned up and I realize my heart is racing. Man, does this bring me back. I turn to Ron with what I’m sure is the goofiest smile I’ve ever displayed.

He raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“Nothing. I’m just … it’s fun to be here, that’s all.”

He smiles and nods like he’s humoring a mental patient. I look down the line at the rest of our crew, but don’t see anyone quite as excited as I am. Peetsa is plugging her ears, and Buddy is yelling something in Garth’s ear. I notice Vivs has joined us and is talking to Nina. I walk over to them.

“Is this Sucker Punch?” I yell.

“No. Next band. This is Grope. High school kids.”

Just then Grope’s lead singer steps up to the mic.

“Good evening, Kansas City!” he screams, and immediately gets feedback from the monitors.

“Whoa. Sorry about that. Uh, we’re Grope and we’re here to get you rockin’. One two three four…”

And it begins. Grope starts rattling out a song about going to hell. It’s actually not too bad, considering how young they are. I look to my right and see my friends nodding their heads to the beat. Okay. Not a disaster. Grope’s second song is a ballad—a sensitive song about a bitch who did him wrong. The melody is good, but these guys really need help with their lyrics. “I was trashed so I crashed at her hash-pad.” What?

They get the crowd going with their third and final song—a pretty decent cover of “London Calling,” by the Clash. Always leave ’em wanting more, Grope. Well done.

After a quick changeover, Sucker Punch hits the stage. Four guys—all adorable—take their places with much more panache than Grope. Vivs is right, the lead singer is a very good-looking Asian boy/man. He’s obviously in his twenties, but has a young look. He reminds me of John Cho, the guy from Harold and Kumar.

I look at the bass player and see a thin blond guy with a very cute smile and a great ass. I know it’s not something I should be noticing about my daughter’s boyfriend, but I do still have a pulse, and may I say he is wearing his skintight khakis very well.

The lead singer introduces the band, then says, “Let’s hear it one more time for Grope.”

The audience gives a generous round of applause and then Sucker Punch kicks off their set with a slow song that eventually builds to a frantic beat. I don’t love the song, but I can tell these guys are talented musicians. Travis is totally in tune with the drummer and doesn’t grandstand like the Grope bass player did. I can already tell he’s a nice guy. I feel my hand being squeezed and I see Laura has joined us in the audience.

“What do you think?” she screams in my ear, so loudly that I feel reverb.

“They are awesome!” I scream back. She looks relieved.

We listen to all three of their songs together. Laura knows every word, and my heart aches just a bit. I remember being that girl.

When Sucker Punch finishes their set, the crowd shows its appreciation by asking for an encore. I’m a little surprised. I mean, they weren’t that good, and Lez Zeppelin’s fans have been waiting patiently through two boy bands.

Laura is beaming.

“Travis is going to be so happy. They’re not allowed to play another song, but he was hoping people would want one.”

Peetsa, Buddy, and Ron join Laura and me to give their two cents.

“This is so fun!” Peetsa enthuses. She is still yelling, even though the music has stopped.

“Great bands!” Buddy adds. I don’t believe either of them.

“Where is everyone else?” I realize half our party is MIA.

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