Another sign that I am an irreversible, middle-aged responsible (most of the time) adult

This Thursday night, my wife and I went to Grand Rapids to see one of my many favorite bands, the Meat Puppets.  The Pups, as they are affectionately called, were playing at a small club in G.R. called the Pyramid Scheme.

We were able to make last minute babysitting plans with my in-laws, and after a stop at the kids' Scholastic Book Fair at school, dropped them off with the understanding that, since the show started at 8:00 PM, we should be back into town by about 11:30.  My in-laws were not going to watch the boys any later that 11:30--and it wouldn't have been fair to ask them to do so since the next day was a school day.

We arrived at the Pyramid Scheme a little before eight.  The Pyramid Scheme is divided in half: the front half is a standard bar, while the back half is the performance area that is closed until that evening's show is ready to begin.  So for a show that, according to the ticket, was supposed to begin at 8:00 PM, we sat and waited.  And we sat and waited some more.  Finally the door opened at around 8:30 PM and we entered and grabbed two ridiculously expensive beers. 

Then we waited, and waited, and did a little more waiting.

At close to 9:00 PM the opening act, a sort of rustic cowpunk sort of band called Wildfire, took the stage.  (For what it's worth, their guitarist/lead singer was a dead ringer for George Harrison as he appeared on the Abbey Road album cover, complete with jean jacket).  Wildfire was on stage for maybe between a half-hour to 45 minutes.  Then the second supporting act, a garage rock duo from Denmark called Black Box Revelation (with an impossibly tall and skinny guitarist) came on--and some drunken idiot sitting next to us decided to do his interpretive dance/air drum routine and acted bent out of shape when we made it clear we weren't in the same jovial mood.  Anyway, it was clear to us that the Pups wouldn't hit the stage until at least 11:00.  Unfortunately, we had no choice but to leave for home, without seeing the band we'd paid to see.

The only good thing that came out of the night was buying, for only 10 dollars, a Pups CD I didn't own, 1987's Mirage.  But I'm still getting over not actually being able to see them live, so I am currently in no mood to listen to it.

It was a good thing we left when we did, because snow had just hit the Grand Rapids area and the giant snowflakes were making visibility a nightmare.  Luckily, we managed to pick up the boys at about 11:45.

Today, I noticed that the Pyramid Scheme had posted photos from the Meat Puppets' performance.  I'm so bummed out that I can't even look at them.

This is what happens when you hit middle-aged parenthood.  The days of carefree small-club concert going is over, unless we can find an all-night babysitter.  When we were single and/or childless, we'd have had no problem waiting around for the Meat Puppets to hit the stage, watching their entire gig, and getting home at 2:30 AM.  Farewell, youthful days.