"Won’t you come and rock and roll with me?"
~The Killers
Last night was THE KILLERS concert– remember? The concert that I bought the ticket for in NOVEMBER? Yeah, that one. So when I bought my ticket, I was planning on going alone– no one I know here likes them. BUT then my Swedish friend heard one of their songs and decided she wanted to come with... and then told, like, all of our friends from church, and so we ended up being a party of 12 or so, representing 6 or 7 countries, hanging out at the Zenith last night to see the coolest band ever to come out of Vegas.
As it turns out, I was the only one who was an actual fan– all the rest had only heard a few songs... which was fine, but made me feel really hardcore and a little bit weirded out since I
knew all the words to, oh, all the songs. Five of us got to the place about an hour before doors opened to start queuing, and the rest met up with us later on. The five that went early were me
(an American girl), an American guy, a Swedish girl, a French girl, and a girl from Cape Verde raised in France. The rest of the girls went to McDo(nald’s) while the American guy and me waited in line, talking quietly and trying to be inconspicuous English-speakers. (He is fluent in French). Then the three Europeans get back with three HUGE bags from McDonald’s, filled with as many hamburgers and fries and a couple Happy Meals that they could get for 15 Euro. Which means a lot. We sat on the ground to picnic it, and the conversation that went on was amazing– we spoke mostly English (or at least a weird mix of Franglais), which means only 40% of us were speaking our native tongue, and thus no one ever really knew what anyone else was saying. Suddenly Anais, who is the coolest French person I have ever met and who lived in the US for 6 months on a turkey farm, making her possibly the coolest person I have ever met, says,
"I have three favorite English words: random, whatever, and seldom. But I always forget what seldom means."
"It means not often," I say, "pas souvent."
"Oh right. Like you can say, ‘I seldomly go to see the Killers.’"
In a fit of me forgetting that I was speaking to a girl whose second language is English, I said, "No, because you can’t add a suffix to seldom. It’s not that kind of word." They all just looked at me, except the American, who understood, but couldn’t think of a better way to explain it. So we gave them a lot of examples, but all night the non-anglophones kept saying, "I seldomly get this sweaty on a Monday night."
"I know what seldom they are saying."
And, my favorite, "I would seldom want to get my tongue pierced because, you know, it might get pulled out or something."
"Who pulls on your tongue?"
So eventually we get into the show and somehow end up in the front row of the seated section– we decided to hit up the pit after the show started. So now it’s down to me, the American guy, and Anais, who was complaining about how Americans say "possum" instead of "opossum."
"Yeah, when I was in America, I say to people all the time ‘I want to see an opossum!’ And they all say, ‘what you are talking about?’ and I say, ‘Un-OH-puh-some! I want to see one!’ but no one could understand me!"
To which I replied, "Why would you want to see a possum?"
At which point the other American interrupted and said, "What’s a possum?"
Anais and I just turned and looked at him.
Anais said, "You don’t know what unopossum is?!"
"No..."
"Do they not have them in Colorado?"
"No... are they nice or bad?"
"Bad," I explained, "They’re rodents. Like big rats, but they hang from trees and hide in your steel wool," I explained.
"Like raccoons?" he asked.
"No, they are rodents," I responded, which may or may not be true, but it seemed in my head like the most plausible thing.
"We have raccoons in Colorado."
"EVERYWHERE have raccoons" Anais interjected.
"Wait, you actually wanted to see a possum?" I asked, perplexed since most Americans spend all their lives avoiding them.
"Yes!"
"Don’t you have them in them in France?"
"NO! Why you think I want to see one!?"
At that point the conversation incorporated the Canadian guy who had just arrived, and turned to the concert. Anais had never been to a concert, the American guy had never been to a big one,
and the Canadian had never been to one outside of Canada, so suddenly I was like the go-to girl, because they all think I know all about this stuff since I was the one that found the tickets.
"What do you think is under those big black sheets on the stage?" someone asked.
"It’s the instruments and the amps for the band," I responded, confident because it was an easy question.
"I don’t think so. I think it is a TIME MACHINE! Like in Return To The Future!" Anais says, and no one bothered to correct her on the name of the movie.
"Do people get in fights in the pit?"
"No, especially not at a Killers concert..."
This from the American: "How do you know?"
Me: "Because... it’s The Killers... If it was 30 Seconds To Mars, you’d have something to worry about... or Eminem or something– then you’d probably be knifed. But here they are all going to stand out there trying to act posh and mod and like they are too cool to be really excited."
"Will people crowdsurf?"
"No, it’s not really that kind of show, plus crowdsurfing is going out of style... headwalking is the new cool thing to do."
Anais: "If someone walk on MY head, I punch them in the face!"
"I really feel that would not be prudent. There has to be a better way to handle things."
"I’m not scared! I know karate! And Andrew, he is in the military, and you, Blair... you can... you can pray!"
Even here, a continent and an ocean away, I’m still forever the unathletic one.
Eventually the band came out, and I swear it was the best show I’ve seen in... well, possibly ever. They played for almost two hours, all the good songs and some of the unreleased ones– and a couple that were only released in America, meaning who in the audience knew them? Oh, yeah, ONLY ME, so I had to quit singing so loudly so that I wouldn’t be heard. We went down into the crowd as soon as it started, and spent the whole time jumping around and sweating through our clothes... By the time we left my voice was gone, and remained gone all day today.
Possibly the best conversation of the night, in the Noctilien (the night bus) on the way home:
Blair, to the Swedish girl: "Lydia, is Bjorn a Swedish name?"
Lydia: "Yes, a man’s name."
Blair: "That is so cool... I wish I knew someone named Bjorn."
Anais: "Blair, you weird!"
Lydia: "Yeah, but in Swedish it means beer."
Blair: "Wait, Bjorn means beer? And people name their kids that?"
Lydia: "Yeah, all the time!"
Andrew: "It really means beer?"
Lydia: "Yeah, you know, beer, like this," [waves arms around in the air.]
Blair: "Wait, what does that have to do with beer?"
Lydia: [roars]

Blair: [hyperventilates laughing so hard; nearly wets her pants.]
Andrew: "BEAR! YOU MEAN BEAR! Like the animal!"
Lydia, pouting and laughing at Blair’s reaction: "That’s what I said... baaaair."
The three-piece suit is the new black.
It’s indie rock and roll for me,
Mademoiselle Brightside.