Yesterday, on the day when I kept repeating quietly in my head, “Bingo’s due date is the day after tomorrow. The day after tomorrow.” Sea and I went to a concert.
I won’t tell you which concert: if I did, anybody who didn’t already know where I live would, it’s also embarassing. I’ll just say that Sea has had a 15+ year obsession with a particular boy band: a boy band that you probably don’t even remember. Or, if you do remember them, you would say, “Really? They’re still together?”
So, we went to this concert. The audience was composed almost exclusively of women between the ages of 25 and 35. Between the line, the late start, and the concert, I stood for five and a half hours. Bingo’s hearing will probably be forever impacted by the high pitched screaming of hundreds of women too old for such an impossible decibel. It was ridiculous, hilarious, and also kind of fantastic. Though Bingo is still in-utero, and the concert surprisingly didn’t send me into labor, I’m still counting it as baby’s first concert.
(Also, because I’m 9 months pregnant I had to pee. Because of the concert’s demographic, the line for the women’s bathroom stretched well down the hall while men’s bathroom was completely ignored. Which is why Bingo’s first concert was also my first time– ever– intentionally using a men’s bathroom.)