#591 Golden Circle

Went to a concert the other night. It was at the Southwest Washington fair.
It started just a little late, as the band apparently thought it was a good idea to wait for the people in the Golden Circle to show up. They finally did, loaded with corn on the cob, curly fries and elephant ears.
Probably a safe precaution. Nothing worse than a hungry Golden Circle in Chehalis.
As the chairs in the Golden Circle were the folding type usually reserved for bad investment seminars and school assemblies, I was a little worried at first. Especially when I noted the ground upon which they were set covered with sawdust.
Suddenly I felt like a 4-H animal hoping to win first prize, thereby guaranteeing me at least one more year as a breeder before they led me to slaughter.
Concerts on sawdust usually mean two things—chaw spit and cowpies. Either way, my sandals were a bad choice.
The audience was, um, diverse. Apparently, the lead singer of REO Speedwagon thought so too. When he engaged the crowd in a long commentary, his voice shifted through about three dialects—from urban cool to bluesman slur to just a touch of drunken southern redneck.
Perhaps he was looking for a way to connect and was confused by the bewildering variety of hairstyles and fashions in the audience—from muffin-top tight jeans and bling, to cowboy hats and chaps, to eighties white trash.
It was cool watching people dressed as if their hairstyle became permanently affixed in one decade rock to a band whose chief hits were in another.
Big hair meets mullet.
Our group actually started playing a game kind of like slug bug. Except it was called “spot the mullet.”
The mullet is an amazingly enduring style in certain sectors. Even when folks lose the hair necessary to maintain it. Like when they’re bald on top with a mullet in the back.
What my friend called a skullet.
Unfortunately calling up an image of using the poor guy’s pate to fry an egg. Or maybe whip up a fried peanut butter sandwich.
At one point it had me singing, “I believe it’s time for me to fry.”
America, ya gotta love it