Frampton

"Should" be at The Queers show, Black Cat, but instead on our couch 1.19.2011

Peter Frampton. Some would call him a rock icon. He plays a soaring guitar. He used to have long hair. He packs arenas. He packs arenas full of.... gasp...OLD PEOPLE.  But "Frampton" is different, you see. It is a new word that Jarrod and I have developed in our vast language together. Words we pick up on that stick with us amid conversation, or we might hear it on the radio or television at the perfect time, and from that point forward that word takes on a special new meaning. Our meaning. Frampton debuted while walking from our beloved 9:30 Club to our car promptly at 11:10 p.m. a few months ago after attending a really fun and solid ska show. It was a school night and I was lamenting aloud that we had just left a show EARLY! As in before it was over! Gasp! Just so we could be home and in bed by 11:30 to spare us from hating ourselves the next morning at work. How dare we!  Only old people do such responsible things. Just a few years ago, we would have sucked it up, powered through and faced the consequences of our "bad" decision later. Jarrod, in his infinite wisdom turned to me and said half mockingly, "Yep. Before you know it, we will be watching Peter Frampton at Wolf Trap." I laughed at my fake youthful righteousness and we have embraced our new word ever since.

We pulled a Frampton tonight. The plan was to see The Queers, a lovely little punk band, at the Black Cat. I was pumped to go at 11:00 a.m., a little bit less excited at 2:00 p.m., and by 3:00 p.m. I was having serious doubts that I had the energy to go. Nonetheless, I professed my excitement to be going to a punk show later tonight to a co-worker while exiting my office.  Maybe secretly hoping that if I heard myself tell someone else that I was going, the chances for follow-through would increase.

Jarrod was waiting. I got in the car and we recounted stories of our day. The plan was to go home, change clothes, have dinner, and then head back out later. Jarrod and I are lovers of fun and music, but we are trying to save money. We have found making small considerations, like eating at home, instead of eating out before plans later in the evening will make your money go a lot further. We have learned such knowledge through age and experience. And here we have ourselves a new use of Frampton. Are you getting it?

We struggled with the decision whether or not we were going to the show on our commute home. Or at least, we pretended to struggle. I think deep down we both knew that ultimately after the sight of our couch and flannel PJs this little game of ours would be over. The only unknown element was which one of us was going to confirm, for the record, that we are getting old. Jarrod called it. Frampton! I already had one leg in my PJ bottoms.

Jarrod determined that The Queers were not on his "Bands That He Has to Hear Before He Dies" list, or in this particular instance, "Bands That Get Us Off the Couch on a Weekday List." Sorry Queers. You did not make the cut. Maybe if it were Saturday. Sidebar--I just learned the bands on this list for Jarrod are: Goldfinger, NOFX, Bad Religion (again, we have seen them once already), and They Might Be Giants (again, we saw these guys last year--Jarrod is in tune with his inner-nerd). But tonight, our love of our couch, and occasional sense of responsibility have prevailed over our love of punk music.

My husband's decision making process is much more concise and collected than mine. Maybe it is the scientist in him. Maybe it's all of those brainy They Might Be Giants songs. He is very insightful. I am insightful too, but my brain is cluttered. I have to dig through random, poorly organized piles of information to scoop up, and actually come out with that clever idea I was looking for.  Jarrod just finds it. He said, "What is the point of getting old if you never learn from being young." Ahhh. Wise he is, right? Watch out Yoda, you have a contender in infinite wisdom. His name is Jarrod Julius. Disclaimer: I am a nerd by association only. If you ask me if I am a nerd, I will deny, deny, deny. I cannot help the Star Wars reference. I am a product of my environment. Okay, moving on...

Jarrod's assessment. We would have ended up going to the show merely to prove a point to ourselves. Although not particularly in the mood for loud music, or having our personal space invaded and chests elbowed by complete strangers (We used to find this fun? Seems forever ago.) we would  have sucked it up, just to say, "Ha! Look at us we are not that old!" And I am pretty sure we would have regretted being there. We are old enough to know that we should engage in certain activities and amusements because they bring us pleasure. We have nothing to prove. We are who we are. And so, here we are. On our couch in our PJs. Each of us with a beer and we are happy. Maybe a Queers' song will come up on my iPod shuffle. Frampton.