So today I am still feeling the repercussions of drinking two nights ago at the U2 concert. However, I am sure my minor exhaustion does not compare to what my new concert friend, “T-Money,” must be dealing with. It’s always fun to find the biggest, drunkest idiot in the group and then converse with them through a series of lies. T-Money was that such person. The first go-to lie is always your name. I for the night was Maria Sanchez. My friend who was at the concert with me introduced herself as Veronica, visiting from Jackson Hole, Wyoming. I of course then wanted to be Betty. Luckily, our new friend’s drunken Alzheimer’s caused him to ask “what was your name again?” within 30 seconds of our first introductions. However, T-money knew something was up. “Isn’t that a cartoon?” he asked. “Veronica and Maria?” So close. T-Money informed us he lived right beyond Giants Stadium and pointed into the sky towards his house. I cringed. Between T-Money, Real Housewives, and videos such as You Tube sensation “Guido Beach (, its getting harder and harder to defend my home state New Jersey’s rep. He asked where I worked and I told him I worked for Budweiser. The enormous billboard directly across from our seats, didn’t tip him off that I’m not the quickest thinker. I then flung the question back at him. T-Money sells nuts and bolts for a living. I considered asking if I could send him my resume, because any job that allowed for him to begin drinking at 2PM in the afternoon, sounded pretty good to me. Lucky for me, he had a sip or two left of Jack Daniels in the flask he so stealthily snuck into the stadium. I cursed myself for not bringing my own flask of vodka, my preferred drink, however, beggars can’t be choosers. I poured a shot into my beer with flecks of gold (or at least there should have been for $8 a cup) and was feeling good. I was then ready to say goodbye to our new, drunken friend. His humorous demeanor was tittering on the border of annoying. Two seconds later, T-Money was bordering on the edge of his row, and then, toppled over two rows of chairs below him! After attending several games and concerts at Giants Stadium and mystified that I had never heard of anyone getting hurt by falling down the rows of seats, I got to see it with my own eyes. I couldn’t help feeling slightly guilty, as though my thoughts of wanting to see it were so powerful that they actually forced the event into motion. After his fall, causing everyone from the 10 rows reaching outward in both directions to stare right at us, it was time to disassociate ourselves from this guy. Unfortunately, this wasn’t so easy. U2 came out, the crowd went wild, and I was ready to jam. (Sadly the one song I waited all night to hear, Viva La Vida, wasn’t played…because I was later informed that is sung is by Coldplay). The entire concert, T-Money made himself known, by touching me some way, to remind me he was there. Whether a rub on my head, a tap on my shoulder followed by a little wave, or him grabbing my hands whenever I put them up in the air, I was really regretting this friendship. When “Bloody Sunday” came on, I was thinking about someone else who might end up bloody if he didn’t get his hand off my back. By the time the night was over, I was thinking I may have to move to Jackson Hole, Wyoming with my good friend Veronica to avoid this stalker. Then I realized tomorrow he probably will have no recollection of this at all. And felt a little pity that he’ll never remember the night he went to his U2 concert, as he described to us as “the best freakin‘ night of his life!”

**I guess I must have been a little drunk myself to think that in the picture of us we were signing “U2”

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *