Christmas in August!!

I was sitting around my house Friday night, perusing social media and just chilling, when suddenly, I sat upright.

"Is the rumor true?" I read on a friend's social media page. "Is Jimmy Buffett playing in Hermosa Beach tomorrow night?"

I clicked right on through to the comments, wondering what venue in Hermosa could hold Jimmy and his Coral Reefer band (and how much $$$ I'd have to shell out to see them). Another Parrot Head confirmed the show, and just when I thought I couldn't get any more excited, he said it was on the beach, and it was free. Turns out, the Discovery Channel was hosting a festival and concerts all weekend long to promote Shark Week, and Saturday night's performer was no less than JIMMY BUFFETT!!!!!

Now, to say I'm a Parrot Head is a bit of an understatement. To say I was excited that Buffett was playing locally--even more of an understatement. To say the concert was at the beach, and FREE, and coincidentally, I was in town and no plans this particular weekend...aw hell, let's just say I almost exploded the fun meter when I read about this.

I immediately called my brother Scott, who lives in Hermosa Beach, and told him the great news. He couldn't believe Buffett was playing in his own backyard (literally!). He was down for going, too.

So that's how I found myself early Saturday afternoon, rolling into Hermosa, beach chairs and gear in my car. I could hear the live bands playing at the beach from Scott's house, so I knew that worst case scenario, if I couldn't get close to the beach, I could always listen from the balcony.

We loaded Scott and Mari's up mini-van, and headed for the beach. Mari and Mark helped me stake out a little area on the sand and set up our chairs. It wasn't hard to find the stage--it was engulfed in a giant tent covered in shark teeth. Jimmy was playing inside a shark's mouth! Seemed very appropriate. 

I planted myself right in front of the Shark Week banners and made myself at home. (And also, YAY, SHARK WEEK!!! I love Shark Week!)

Mark disappeared after helping--he wanted to go to Grant's baseball game. (I think he was more interested in the snack bar than the game, but whatever, still counts as being a good cousin, right?) Mari stayed with me for an hour, soaking up the sun and chatting, until she, too, had to run off and do errands.

"Are you so excited?" Mari asked me, and I could only nod my head and grin stupidly.

"It's like Christmas in August!" I replied. "Seriously, this is all I want for Christmas, and I just got it--in AUGUST!" 

After Mari left, I sat alone, guarding the chairs and keeping our spot. But it was a gorgeous summer day, sunny and warm, and I was sitting on the beach, with a book. It's actually my favorite thing to do, so it wasn't a chore.

The spaces around me slowly filled up with Parrot Heads and beach umbrellas. Around 3, a bluesy band called the North Mississippi All Stars took the stage, and I was, quite literally, jamming. I danced, whooping and hollering, and giving thanks for this amazing day.

The Hermosa cops expected huge crowds--the first estimate I heard was 20,000, the next 40,000-50,000. There were a lot of people on the beach--waaaaaay more than I'd ever seen--but nowhere near 20,000 or 50,000. I think the concert promoters made a sly choice by picking Hermosa. There simply aren't that many parking spaces in the area, so if you weren't local or riding you bike or skateboard in from Manhattan or Redondo Beaches, you were pretty much out of luck.

Finally, around 5 pm., my family started trickling in. The boys showed up first--Scott carrying a cooler of boat drinks, the boys dragging a bag of food. The kids immediately stripped off their shirts, grabbed a ball, and ran off down the beach.

Another family (Scott and Mari's friends) showed up, then Mari arrived, bearing a box of empanadas. Our beach party was officially in full swing!

I waited for my friend Cindy, too, but she was delayed by a faulty car. So I just sat back, enjoying the company and food, and my view of the stage. I fully intended to enjoy the concert with my family (their first Buffett show!).

But then, seven minutes before 6, I heard it. 

"Ole Ole, Ole Ole!" the speakers blared, and I started twitching involuntarily. The beginning strains of "Hot Hot Hot" mean only one thing: Jimmy Buffett's about to take the stage! It was like the call of the wild, and who was I to ignore it??

I jumped up and yelled, "Bye!" to Mari. 

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"Up there!" I said, pointing to the very front section, the standing-room-only area. "I've gotta dance!" 

She laughed and waved as I ran off.

And sure enough, just as I reached the stage, Jimmy walked on.

It. Was. AWESOME!!!!!! 

Me, on the beach, barefoot. Jimmy Buffett, on stage, also the very beach I've spent most of my summer. This is how a Buffett concert should be--I felt like I was watching Jimmy in his natural environment--and it was seriously the best day ever!!!

Like I said, Hermosa's kinda hard to get to, unless you're a local. These locals took the screens off the window, and had the best seat in the house!

There were people everywhere--all over the beach, on the pier, even boats in the water just beyond the shore. 

People were shifting around, jostling to get in closer, and pushing through the crowd. I didn't care--it was Christmas, let's all just get along--until one guy and his girlfriend stepped in front of me. 

They were dressed in nice clothes, clearly out on a date. Probably on their way to a nice dinner, stumbled upon the concert and decided to check it out. They were definitely NOT your typical Parrot Heads. 

But I was cool with them--hey, let's all enjoy the show together!--right up until the guy stopped directly in front of me. Me, all of 5'4", and him, at least a foot taller.

"Dude, you're really tall!" I said, gesturing that he was blocking my entire view.

"I know," he shrugged, not at all apologetically.

I shrugged back. "That's okay," I told him. "I'm really loud." 

And with that, I started screaming, hootin' and hollerin' in my loudest voice ever--and not that I'm bragging, but seriously, I am really loud. It totally worked--the club kids immediately moved out of my way.

Cindy showed up a couple songs in. We pushed through the crowd, found a good spot, and spent the rest of the time dancing and singing along with Jimmy and the Coral Reefer and. It was pure awesomeness!

Jimmy sang for an hour, playing all his greatest hits. It was funny, during the show, people kept holding up their iPhones to photograph or record the concert. But when "Margaritaville" came on, they went crazy, and every iPhone on the beach came out and focused on the stage. It was hilarious--I think it's the only song everyone knew, and they all wanted a record of it.

And then, sadly, it was over. Jimmy told the crowd he had a cold beer and two fish tacos waiting for him, then he waved and left the stage. Cindy and I stumbled back to my family, both of us giddy and drunk on a concert high, high-fiving each other and screaming, "That was JIMMY! ON THE BEACH! IN HERMOSA! AND WE SAW IT!" We couldn't stop giggling or staring at the stage where Jimmy was just a few moments earlier.

Mark ambled up from the beach, and waved.

"What'd you think of your first Buffett show?" I asked him. 

He shrugged. "Cool," he said, then admitted he hadn't really seen any of it, but he just listened. He was too busy playing catch with his cousins. Oh well, at least I didn't spend $140 for him to ignore the show.

What I also liked was that afterwards, no one was in a rush to leave. It was Saturday night, and we were all at one massive beach party, hanging out. The party kept on going--it didn't end just because someone turned off the music. 

We stayed about an hour, until the mood turned a little more drunken. It was our sign to pack up the kids, the chairs and the wagon, and head home. 

And now, here it is, two days later, and I'm still smiling, still in disbelief. I'm usually booked solid on the weekends--for me to be in town, with no plans, is a small miracle, and for that to coincide with Jimmy also being in town--man, talk about the stars aligning! I've seen Buffett many, many, many times before, but never barefoot, on a beach, on the perfect summer day, in my own backyard (and for FREE!!!). It was the perfect concert!  

It's also proof there is indeed a God, and that He's a Parrot Head, too! 

Jimmy Buffett tried to kill me (again)

I love a good weekend, and the only thing better than a good weekend is a good, long weekend. A good, long weekend filled with friends.

My long weekend kicked off a bit early--last Thursday night, to be exact. I had out-of-town visitors (my friend Amber and her friend Donna), who came to see another out-of-towner (Jimmy Buffett).

I love the portable parking lot party at a Buffett concert. The Parrot Heads are so fun--they bring their own games.



They also bring their own treats, cleverly decorated according to Jimmy's songs. Love the cheeseburger in paradise cupcake!



The concert was pretty awesome, too. We made friends with the guys in front of us, who apologized on arrival because they weren't going to sit down for any of the concert. Which was fine by us, because we weren't gonna sit, either. But there is something endearing about a grown man in a grass skirt, coconut bra, Hawaiian shirt and floppy hat apologizing because he was going to dance badly for the next two hours.

The concert was excellent. Jimmy was in fine form, although this was what my world looked like by the end of the concert:



I took the next day off to hang out with my friends. Donna wanted a nice picture of the town, so we took her right to our most iconic landmark.



We did a little window shopping, too. Amber did some actual shopping, buying this cute hat.



We thought it was funny that she had to come all the way to California to buy winter gear for Maine, but it was too cute to pass up.

Also very cute were these decorative peppers, grown to look like fall gourds at a little newspaper stand.



Our heads were still pounding from the night before, when Jimmy Buffett tried to kill me (as he does every year). OK, maybe my head was pounding the most, but when we neared another local landmark, the other girls were game to taste a local specialty--the infamous Shoot-the-Root (a root beer vodka shot dropped into a beer).



As Vicki rightfully observed, "There's nothing better than having a cocktail in the middle of the day!" We cheered our drinks and agreed.

We met up again on Saturday for a wonderful Italian dinner. We passed this big old house, which Amber pretended was hers. Mark pretended not to care--he was too cool for pictures, although he non-chalantly sauntered into the frame.




Mark was thrilled to spend a little time with Amber and his aunties, although he hid it well the first hour. But after a little come-to-Jesus discussion outside the restaurant, he perked up and had a good time. (Sometimes you just need the proper motivation...i.e., an angry mom telling you to eat your dinner and be social OR ELSE).

It was a very fun, but way too brief weekend. I enjoyed every minute of it, even to the very end, as Amber, Donna, Mark and I sang along to 80s songs on the way to the airport. And even as we channeled Amber and Donna on the way home, in the form of a car bearing a Maine license plate in front of us on the freeway. It was a nice way to end the weekend.