The Fight: or, How to Look Like A Regular On Springer

Last night I went to a concert. I don't really want to tell you whose concert after the whole Dixie Chicks and Michelle Branch thing, although a little googling would get you the answer in no time. But WHO I saw is hardly the point.

The point is this: I sat six rows from the stage. And when the drummer looked into my eyes, he decided I needed his drum stick. So he threw it to me. To ME! He wanted me to have it. I'm sure of it. And I reached out and up and had two hands on it - it was literally thrown RIGHT TO ME. But the bitch next to me decided to get her grubby little paw on the end of it and she tried to yank it away.

Heather don't play dat.

We fought for all of six-point-two seconds before my evil twin came out to play. Approximately half a second later I rose up, the victor. You don't mess with a 5'3" German-Irish female from Portland, Oregon, yo. (Um...yeah.)

I could see her whispering next to me to her two friends and husband. Then she turned to me and showed me a bloody scratch on her hand. I said, "Oh. How did that happen?"

And she said, "You did that." She had that bitchy grin on her face, as if I were some how less than human because she came out of this fight with a scratch. As if, in the underlying moral war we were obviously having as we battled for the drum stick, SHE came out the victor. It was all I could do not to laugh out loud. Me. The one holding the drum stick. HA!

"You shouldn't have tried to steal that stick away from me. I had two hands on it before you even thought about making your obviously desperate move." I said this all with an evil grin. And with a shrug, I turned my attention back to the show.

I ended up giving the drum stick to her friend. He was a HUGE fan of the singer. It's all I heard about all night up to the fight. I could have cared less about the drum stick, really. Turns out he owns a restaurant and gave me his name and told me to come down to the restaurant anytime with a friend for a free dinner and all the drinks I can throw down. And folks, I can throw down some drinks. And the best part of the whole thing was the look on the bitchy lady's face as she watched her friend shake my hand and say thank you and offer me the dinner and drinks. For a moment she became Linda Blair, her head all spinnin' around and shit.

I know it's horrible of me, but I felt like God was giving me my Christmas present in that moment.