My trip to the music store.
|Thanks to my middle-agedness I no longer belong in a music store. I’m truly a fish out of water, a dinosaur, a relic in these outlets of modern day pop culture.
Recently, my eleven year- old daughter asked me to take her to the music store to buy a CD. Since my husband usually goes with her and brings home yet another David Bowie CD, I jumped at the chance to take her. This was my opportunity to buy a Pat Benatar CD to replace the album we can no longer play. I happily, or should I say 'sappily' agreed. We followed the floor vibrations to the store and my ears were immediately assaulted with the wailing sounds of the latest number one singer.
Once inside, I wiped the blood from my middle-aged ears and headed toward the selections that began with “B”.
As I flipped through the CD's an angry-looking teenager, with numerous piercings and tattoos, walked over to where I stood and glared at me as he passed by. I told myself “don’t make eye contact.” He had a t-shirt that said "You're Ugly". Nice. Feeling uncomfortable, I slinked over to the "Classic Rock" offerings. I couldn't find what I was looking for, so I decided to ask the Sales Associate (they used to be called 'sales clerks' in my day) for help. He, too, had numerous piercings and tattoos. He smirked and rolled his eyes then said in an overly- bored voice, "All we have is collections of 80's music. They’re over by the Oldies." Then pointed to where an elderly man with a walker was flipping through CD's. I immediately envied the old guy since I imagined he turned his hearing aid off when he entered the store. As I’m not yet in ‘the oldies' age group, despite what the Sales Associate thought, I decided to forego looking for my music.
I walked over to my daughter passing three teenage girls with their stomachs bare and their butts sticking out of their way-too-tight jeans. Their legs looked like breakfast sausage links. I silently hoped they wouldn't bend over while I was within a five mile radius of them. Who knows what would happen. They, too, had piercings and tattoos in addition to hair that looked like the ends had been dipped in red paint. They had raccoon eyes and black nail polish on their finger tips. "Maybe they're going to a costume party" I naively thought to myself. They looked up from the CD’s as I passed with a look that said “don’t stand near us”.
I didn’t. I didn’t want people to think they were with me, as much as they didn’t want people to think I was with them.
My daughter found the CD she wanted and showed it to me. The lead singer looked like he stepped out of a horror movie - the slasher-type movies. His stringy, hasn’t been washed in a month, hair hung in his face, and he obviously took make-up suggestions from the three teenage girls I passed. Now I know where my daughter got her hair-styling ideas.
We paid for the CD and left the store. My ears hummed for the rest of the afternoon. I silently lamented the fact that the music store was no longer a place I felt I belonged. Then it occurred to me that I have a pair of jeans that are too tight. I also have eye make-up that could easily transform me into Raccoon Eye Woman. All I need are a few piercings and tattoos. Oh and a pair of earplugs wouldn’t hurt either.