You know, I had to do a lot of begging for the board to approve the Arena as one of their tour dates. “Yeah, even the jumbotron looked tee-niny. “Remember the nosebleeds we had for their concert back in high school?” She ogled the booty now in her palms. “Holy crap, me too,” Mary Beth squealed still acting like a three-year-old and grabbing the tickets. And don’t forget the meet and greet.” I sighed, “I am so dyin’.” I read aloud to Mary Beth, “Concert featuring Heaven at the Mobile Civic Arena…Section Floor, row one,” I flipped to each ticket, “seat one, seat two, and seat three. I wasn’t annoyed, but the problem was her mauling deterred me from my opportunity to gawk at the paper in my hands. She pawed for our newly acquired treasure, “Ollie, come on, lemme see. Mary Beth, my BF, climbed and jumped all over me the way a three-year-old would. And that is just what happened as my best friend and I walked down the interior hall of my office building. It is a universal truth that a grown woman can revert to adolescence with the sheer thought of being in the presence of her favorite band from high school.
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