Reflections on a Familiar Life Revisited

I changed my outift several times in preparation for attending my first punk rock show since BC (Before Children, for all you non-breeders). I was going for sophisticated, yet edgy. Not sure I had achieved this, but surrendering to the choices available in my closet, the hubby and I embarked on an adventure 5 1/2 years in the making. As soon as we found ourselves in line outside the Crystal Ballroom, a slight self-consciousness set in. I suddenly felt flamingly preppy. When we got in, would people laugh, or worse, glare? I wanted to fit into this crowd I had once belonged to. Once inside and upstairs, however, the feeling slowly dissipated as a truth I had never considered was revealed. The usual suspects were present, yes. The mohawks, the tats, and the dreads were all at home. But as I searched for justification for my own decidedly un-edgy appearance, I found a surprisingly diverse group of attendees. The hawks and dreads mingled with the soccer-mom blondes, while the pinkheads danced right along with the yuppy-looking business casual college grads. Not one person even gave me a second look. They couldn't have cared less what I wore. Regardless of appearance, we were all there for a common purpose: the music of The Runaway Boys and Flogging Molly.

Having been absent from the punk scene for a while, I had forgotten what these shows are really like. Some things I've missed, others I definitely haven't. The decible level of the sound system could have been cut in half and still could have shattered eardrums. The musty odor of booze + B.O. with an occasional hint of dope is one I could have died without smelling again. However, witnessing and sharing in the energy and ecstasy of talented and passionate musicians while they display their carefully honed craft is an experience I can't live without.