The night the band came. Again.

Previously, I posted about The Band that came in December. I’d been trying to get them back ever since. Finally, amazingly, I managed to book them for my birthday!

When we arrived late, I was relieved the band hadn’t started yet. The guitarist, my point of contact, told me on arrival that when he had asked his bandmates if they should start on time, the bassist said, “But Betsy isn’t here yet.” First of all, honored, secondly, the bassist knew and remembered who I was?!

The music was terrific, as, of course, I knew it would be. Remembering that I love Pearl Jam, they played three PJ songs for me. Literally. After one, someone in the band said into the mic, “That was for Betsy.” Then, at the first set break, I pulled out what I’d been saving since April! Behold:

One hundred and fifty fake snowballs to whip around while the band played. I was a little worried people wouldn’t get into it, and there were several who clearly were not, but the majority played along. One guy REALLY got into it, and he was good. At one point I said, “Did you play for the majors?!” Twice he got me in the head, and I gave him a thumbs up. Other times I got sneaky and threw at him from behind someone’s back. He looked around and said, “Where are those coming from?” Mwahaha!

Another time he spotted me, so I went around the bar area (as opposed to the seating area) to come at him from the other side. After I pegged him a few times from that vantage point, he narrowed his eyes and did that “I’m watching you,” thing with his fingers pointing from his eyes toward me. Finally, later on, I climbed on the table and dumped my whole bag on his head. I felt this was warranted.

He’s the crazy guy on the left. The woman on the right was good enough to play along, even when I accidentally hit her a few times when I was aiming at him. I told her, “Maybe I should aim at you. Then I’ll hit him!” She agreed.

Even though I am not a fan of being the center of attention, the band called me on stage, wished me a happy 28th birthday (a very generous number the singer pulled out of nowhere), gave me a party hat (with more to pass around), a plastic shot glass on Mardi Gras beads, more bead necklaces for the crowd, and a bunch of glow sticks, making me a bracelet, and handing the rest to Hubby to share. Hubby artfully placed some on plants around the place too. He’s fun. 🙂

Of course the band had to sing “Happy Birthday” while I was up there (that part I was less keen on), which concluded with a round of snowballs thrown at the stage. As you can see in the pic above, even the band got in on that action. The “former baseball player” got in another good shot while I was an easy target. I deflected, pointed at him, and gave him the stink eye, good-naturedly, of course. Before he left for the night, he came to say goodbye. I shook his hand, told him he was a worthy opponent, and thanked him for making the night fun.

Another highlight was throwing snowballs at a friend at the next table. She turned around and thought it was a different friend throwing them at her. Every time she bent to pick one up (to then throw back at him), I hit her with another. I must have thrown at least a dozen at her, all the while, she’s yelling, “John! Why are you doing this?” She bends to get another. I hit her again. “John! Why do you hate me so?” He spread his arms all innocent and confused. I’m adding, “Yeah, John! Knock it off.” She turns away, I hit her again. (Lather, rinse, repeat.) Eventually I came clean (pun!), and we all had a good laugh.

When it was closing in on 11 p.m., and my ride was ready to go, I waved to the guitarist as I headed to the exit. He stopped playing to wave back. Oops. Then the singer called my name, mid-song (Oops again) and held up a peace sign. I blew double-handed kisses to show my appreciation as I backed away, then spun around and threw both arms up in peace signs before disappearing through the doorway.

As we walked to the car, Hubby said, “Sooooooo… How was it?” I cracked up. He had to hold my hand to keep me from floating away.