I come down with the flu like symptoms of Jimmy Buffett-itis once a year. The symptoms include headache, nausea, and general crankiness. The kids milk me for all they can on the days I'm afflicted and whine and beg for everything under the sun...which they get because I can't stand to hear it on these days! Lack of sleep and medicinal Margarita's the night before usually contribute to my condition, but you gotta live! My kids benefited this year by getting permission to eat candy all day, they got a new pogo stick (or "bobo" stick as it's know around here), and played at the skate park for a number of hours while mommy whimpered in the shade. You know what? IT WAS ALL WORTH IT!!!!! Pull up a cheeseburger and come along on my journey to Mararitaville!
We started out tailgating and getting busted 3 times by security for "scalping" which, in my inebriated state, I felt obligated to repeatedly argue the definition of the word.
We attended a "back stage" party (that title is a crock) where my husband and his friend proceeded to steal every inflatable tequila bottle and beach ball that wasn't nailed down.
We sat down in our FIFTH ROW SEATS and noticed the theme of this year's concert is "The Year of Still Here", hmmmmmm...panic sets in as my husband realizes this may be a predictor of his last show. Listen to him fret over this theory over and over until he decides to go get another margarita.
Pause for a photo op
Marvel at the huge crowd behind you from the comfort of your FIFTH ROW SEATS and mutter "suckers!" under your breath
Tell your husband not to get jealous because Jimmy Buffett is singing directly to you at this moment.
Cheer, clap, say "do you smell pot?" 15 times, drink "just one more" margarita, float home in a haze, stop for breakfast on the drive home, lay down in your spinning bed and dream about the affliction you are bound to feel in the morning. Ahhhh, summer and Jimmy Buffett...