Tabatha Deans

Bringing Integrity to the Written Word

A Convenient Update

I must admit Robert and I had a wonderful time at the Little Big Town concert. From the minute we hit the gates at the opening of the facility, the people  working the venue were incredibly nice. It started with our first line, where everyone was being wanded with a metal detector. All of the workers were well into middle-aged, with some teetering on the edge of old. An elderly gent was standing at the end of the line of gates, and with nobody bothering to venture all the way down, he was obviously feeling useless. He jumped up and down, waving his arms and wand, and shouted “pick me, pick me!” Of course we went through his line.

We passed the wanding and advanced ten feet to the next person, who cheerfully asked how we were doing.

Good. We’ve never done this before, so I hope it works,” Robert stated, as he handed over his phone.

That’s why I’m here.” The woman said nicely. “I’ll make sure it all goes smoothly.” She tapped his phone to her machine, and it spit out two tickets, which she handed to us with a smile.

There, that was pretty painless, wasn’t it?” Her sidekick said to me. I had to admit it was, and some of my previous anger started to seem a bit silly.

We advanced to the next person, about ten feet ahead again, and they took our tickets and granted us access to the venue. It was a typical country concert, with lots of boots, denim, plaid and beer. The evening was really cold, with a wind that made it worse, and I watched as many of the young women pranced around in short-shorts, skimpy tank-tops, cowboy boots and goosebumps. It is times like these that I am glad to be middle-aged, as we were all covered in boots, jeans and bulky sweaters.

We circled the stadium, got dinner and a beer, found our seats and enjoyed the first act. We headed to the restroom along with everyone else as stagehands went to work to prepare the stage for Little Big Town. We had eaten in a bar earlier, and I smartly directed Robert back to the bar, as I had noticed bathrooms near the rear, and was pretty sure they wouldn’t be as crowded as the general restrooms. I was mostly right, but there was still a line when we arrived.

There was one closed door with a sign for both a male and a female bathroom on it. Having been in the bathroom already, I inquired from those at the front of the line if they knew there were two bathrooms in there, and if they were both in use. Being women, being country and being a little bit tipsy, the ladies at the front of the line threw open the door and marched into the small hallway to investigate. The remaining ladies spilled into the newly opened hallway, forming a line that went down the hall to the men’s room and back along the other wall to the ladies room. Word from the front was that there was both a urinal and a stall in the men’s room. A cry went up as the first woman in line headed for the men’s room. A man came out of the bathroom with a shocked look on his face, head down and hustling through the line of ladies.

Robert was the next male in line. The ladies were getting restless and a little bit crazy, and as Robert headed through the gauntlet, the ladies demanded payment for entrance.

Dance. Dance. Dance.” They chanted as Robert advanced.

And I am very proud to say, that not only did Robert dance his way through the line, he shook his money-maker so hard there was whooping and hollering heard all through the stadium. That’s my man!

While the $11.20 convenience fee still annoys me, watching Robert dance his way to king of the restroom was priceless.

September 14, 2016 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment

Singin’ in the Rain


          I officially declared the end of bad weather today, with a little encouragement from the internet weather report. Tired of the cold and packing my backpack around full of gloves, hats and jackets, I took a leap of faith and ditched the backpack. Karma gave me a delightful new Coach messenger bag, which I was dying to try out and show off. With the morning sun shining through my window, I optimistically loaded my new bag, donned my lightweight Columbia jacket, and headed out the door.

          It was indeed a beautiful day. The sun shone, the temperatures were near 70, and my new bag performed well, and looked awesome. Until about 4 p.m. With two hours left at the office, the biggest, blackest clouds I have ever seen starting coming over the horizon. I searched the office for an umbrella, but remembered we had sent all of them on to the store. The temperature was still pretty warm, and no drops of rain had fallen by the time I left at six. The dark cloud remained at bay as I took the 65 to the Orchard station, and I decided to take the two mile walk home.

          As soon as I cross the skybridge over the freeway and began walking through the Technical Center, an ominous feeling surrounded me. The air changed, and suddenly all the birds were silent. Behind me the entire sky was black, yet to my left, and in front of me, the sun was shining. I knew I had about 35 minutes of walking, and thought it would be pretty close before the black cloud opened up and drenched me. I walked faster, the imagined sense of doom forcing my legs to move quickly. Planning ahead for the important issue, I was deep in thought about how I could protect my new bag from the rain when it hit.

          Suddenly the sky lit up with lighting, followed directly by a loud clap of thunder that made my teeth rattle. I jumped and yelped, and picked up my pace. I rationalized that there were plenty of buildings and trees that were much taller than I, that surely would attract the lightning first. I imagined myself as small as I could be, and continued on. I was not quite halfway home when I felt the first drops of rain. I quickly unzipped my jacket, pulled my bag tight against my body, and zipped my jacket back up. With my bag protected, I began to enjoy the rain falling on my head. I’d read somewhere that rain water is good for your hair, and since it wasn’t cold I decided I had no reason to care.

          The initial drizzle wet the ground enough that I could smell the wet dirt, and the grass seemed greener immediately. The scent of pine as I passed the trees was strong, and the smell made me think of Spirit Lake, my favorite place on the planet. I thought of the upcoming family reunion there, and seeing everyone, and of my future, and my daughter and my growing grandchild. I inhaled deeper and felt my heart swell even more. I couldn’t help but smile, and as Eddie Rabbit played in my headphone, I was suddenly strutting and loving the rain. Each drop seemed to wash away all my cares, and I felt lighter as I walked.

          I soon found myself singing out loud to “I Love a Rainy Night,” and maybe I danced a little bit through the stretch of path that is hidden from the road. The stretch is littered with bunnies scurrying all over, and I danced and sang to them as I passed. I would love to know what they were thinking of the singing lady in the rain.

May 10, 2013 Posted by | Uncategorized | , , , , , , , , , | Leave a comment