We hope you enjoy your stay
It’s good to have you with us, even if it’s just for the day
We hope you enjoy your stay
Outside the sun is shining, it seems like heaven ain’t far away
It’s good to have you with us, even if it’s just for the day…

Mr. Bims and I were so psyched (do people still say “psyched”?) to see The Killers last week. My little brother introduced us to their music a few months ago, and Mr. Bims loved them so much that he immediately downloaded all of their songs from iTunes and made CDs for the house and both cars, just in case. No, seriously.

So imagine our delight when we heard they were coming to Red Rocks, the absolute best outdoor concert venue in the nation. It’s so cool to see shows there, right under the stars, surrounded by – well, big red rocks. Mr. Bims got tickets right away.

The concert day arrived, and Mr. Bims implored me to leave work early so we could get good seats (general admission – nothing was assigned). He really had to twist my arm, but I agreed, arriving home before 4.

And it only went downhill from there…

4:00 PM

Mr. Bims: “Bims, we have to leave now so we get good seats. By the way, you have to drive. I’m drunk! *Hiccup*!
Me: *Throws minor PMS-induced tantrum, then recovers, agreeing to drive.*

4:45 PM

Mr. Bims: “I wish we brought a cooler. We don’t know how to do concerts anymore.”
Me: …
Mr. Bims: “I’m such a fucking doof.”
Me: …

4:46 PM

Mr. Bims: “I want a beer.”
Me: “Slow down, tiger. Why don’t we get in line first?”

4:49 PM

Mr. Bims: “Look! They’re selling beer!”
Beer Guy: “That’ll be 2 for 5.”
Mr. Bims: “Should I get 2?”
Beer Guy: “It’s a long walk to the stage.”

5:05 PM

Mr. Bims: “Maybe I should get another beer. *Hiccup*”
Me: …
Mr. Bims: “Oh no. I have to pee.”

6:10 PM

Ok, you get the point. So they let us in after six. Mr. Bims practically mows down a family of five just to get to the bathroom, and I charge ahead to get the good seats. Which, I get.

5th fucking row. We could practically taste their breath. If we wanted to. Which we didn’t, but still.

And I made some new friends when the people next to me couldn’t get cell service to reach their other friend and borrowed my phone to reach him. “Him” turned out to be a 6-foot skinny ass blond guy who looked like Cameron Diaz, talked like Mickey Mouse, and laughed like Baby Hughey. It was the strangest composition of sounds ever. If you don’t believe me, call him. I still have his number on my cell from when they called him. Later he showed me pictures of his cat, Sugar Lips, dressed up in a wig and lipstick. But, I didn’t get invited to the showing of his penis pics during intermission between the opening acts. Those were just for his friends. Who slapped him and told him never to show those again.

Are you with me so far? 5th row seats. Gorgeous Colorado night with nary a cloud. A blanket of stars overhead. A great crowd. And guys that walk around with margarita tanks strapped to their backs and coolers of beer strapped to their fronts. Which was a sign from the universe that I needed to catch up with Mr. Bims, who was suddenly humming to himself and rocking back and forth on the seat. He tried to get up to make his way to the bathroom, and that’s when the real entertainment started. All six foot two of him stumbled down a few steps, almost headfirst into the security guy gaurding the VIP section. The rope kind of caught him and pushed him backwards so he could fall onto my lap and crush half my margarita. Then Mickey-Hughey kind of guided him along. Fortunately he made it back in one piece.

How you doin’ there, guy?

I got him situated back in his seat, got another drink, and kicked back for the openers – Hot Hot Heat.

They rocked. They were this cool kind of alternative kind of Radiohead-ish (Radiohead techno that is) punky group and they really got the crowd going. Just in time for…

The Killers! Raaahhhhhh!

They paraded onto the stage and got to work, me and Mr. Bims and like ten thousand other people singing along and swaying with our drinks like we were in a tiny Irish pub rather than a big open concert arena.

We hope you enjoy your stay
It’s good to have you with us, even if it’s just for the day
We hope you enjoy your stay
Outside the sun is shining, it seems like heaven ain’t far away
It’s good to have you with us, even if it’s just for the day…

Only… it wasn’t. For the day, I mean. It was more like for seven and a half minutes. Two songs. That’s how long it took lead singer Brandon Flowers to hurt his vocal cords. They sent the doctor out on stage to tell us about it and everything. They probably assumed us Coloradans were just a bunch of granola eatin’, tree-huggin’, peace-lovin’ hippies who would wish him well and be on our little way. But when the drummer came out to apologize and tell us that the show just couldn’t go on, someone in the crowd said, “I guess you better rock the mic, then.”

Yeah, okay. Anyway, they apologized and promised to make it up to us “tenfold” in September. According to my wicked math skills, that means they might sing like ten whole songs next time. Wow wow wee wah.

Poor Mr. Bims. Drunk. Devastated. Duped. Depressed. And drunk, if I didn’t already say it. He was so crushed. There was nothing I could say to comfort him. I got him home, trying to get him to look at that night as a sneak preview to what awaits us in September (I’m just glad they didn’t say July, because my FSIL is getting married in July in NYC, and we’d have to miss it. The wedding, I mean. 🙂 KIDDING, KEETS!!!).

We woke up the next morning with that annoying emotional hangover you get in college when you simultaneously drank too much the night before and did something really stupid and now you can’t find your bra but whose underwear are these?? Wait, what was I saying?

Oh yeah, The Killers. So they’ll be back on September 4th. Yeah! We forgive you, Brandon!

I got this sentimental heart that beats but I don’t really mind that it’s starting to get to me…