waiting in line, i felt a strange combination of grandma and punkass kid. it had been a while since i’d been to a rock show.
“turn around,” said the lady, so i started to spin. shaking her head at me, she growled: “no. i mean, turn around.”
“oh, sorry,” i said, turning my back to her, so she could frisk me.
i dumped the contents of my purse on the table: a compact, lip gloss, keys and coin purse. nothing interesting, really, but her eyes landed on my miniature swiss army, which she told me to toss in the trashcan. it was a gift from my dad but i had no time to think about it so i did it without question.
they wanted to protect everyone from my killer swiss army knife and her deadly umbrella toothpick, but they let the lady in pink sequins and zebra stripes into the palladium? clearly, there is no justice.
inside, i watched teenage girls bouncing around to weezer’s greatest hits. one girl wearing an orange t-shirt and tight jeans held a cellphone to her ear, her dark brown hair flying in the air. her cheerleader smile was reminiscent of slumber parties, jumping on beds and talking to cute boys on the telephone, but it just wasn’t the same.