Last week, my husband Chris and I went to the Hollywood Palladium on Sunset Boulevard to see the Irish post-punk band Fontaines D.C. Now, there's a sentence that would make my angsty indie kid 18-year-old self proud. Going on a night out in Hollywood! Going on a date night in Hollywood! Going to a gig in Hollywood! Still going to gigs when I'm forty-f**king-two!
I mean, it sounds fabulous on paper, doesn't it? But the reality of 'date night' in Los Angeles - particularly when it's to see a show - is far from it. It's overpriced. It's time consuming. It's complicated. And that's just getting to the venue.
I go to quite a few gigs with Chris because of the nature of his job in the music industry (forgive me for sounding spoilt or blasé) and as a result I've come to the conclusion that hoofing across town to see a band (even if it's one, like Fontaines D.C, that I love) does not, and should not! count as quality time together. Because it's quite the opposite. Here's what else you need to know about date nights in LA...
You didn’t think there’d be a selfie of us, did you?
You will spend upwards of $100 before you even leave the house.
This is true of living in any city if you have kids, of course, but I think hiring a babysitter in LA particularly stings because you're spending such a large proportion of that time in traffic. Think about it: you're paying someone to sit on your couch, while your child sleeps, while you sit in a car, watching your child sleeping, through an app on your phone (just me?!). And there's always some sort of pre-leaving-the-child drama too, isn't there? It's always a bit touch-and-go / will-they-won't-they? And it's exhausting. Last week Maggie had hand, foot and mouth and our babysitter cancelled hours before. By the time we got her down and backup had arrived, I was ready to put on my M&S PJs and call it a night.
One of you will have to drive which will kill the vibe.
Okay, so technically you could get an Uber and sometimes we do, so we can have a few drinks. But last week, we took one look at the Uber fees ($80 for a one-way trip from Santa Monica to Hollywood, anyone?) and decided it would be best to drive. Hey, at least the parking is only... wait, $40 for parking?! Anyway. Chris is driving. I'm sitting beside him. As we set off, we discover our ETA is over an hour. One full hour! Since "there just aren't enough hours in the day!" is one of my most used phrases, and "we're like passing ships in the night!" is a huge contender, I decide we should put that hour to good use and discuss an emotional, monumental, life-changing decision we've been recently deliberating over. Talk about killing the vibe.
The journey will take a lot longer than you thought.
I was really looking forward to seeing Fontaines D.C. I'm pretty lazy about music these days so I'm lucky Chris is always playing me new albums. Fontaines D.C are a band we've both connected with. Even three-year-old Maggie went through an amusing but very cute phase of requesting their song, 'I Love You' every morning when she woke up. So I'm looking forward to this gig and I am very much looking forward to a glass of something chilled and a bite to eat at some overpriced hotel rooftop beforehand. We have allowed an hour for this. Alas, traffic. By the time we arrive and pay for the $40 parking, it's 8.40pm and we've got twenty minutes before the band come on...
You will eat or drink something underwhelming.
So we get into the venue and we're saying barely a word to one another. I've filled Chris' head full of stressful, life-changing, monumental stuff on the actually-a-lot-longer-than-one-hour drive and frankly, he looks like he could do with a lie down. Looking around at all these young, skinny, bronzed girls with their midriffs and their nonchalance and reminded of who I was 20 years ago (ok, I was pale and anxious, but you get the drift) I suddenly start feeling really old and fat and invisible and sad. But I'm also hungry. Which is a horrible combination. We don't have much time to peruse the food options at the venue let alone eat anything, so we panic order a pizza after spotting a sign for Jon & Vinny's. I like the restaurant Jon & Vinny's but this so-called pizza is something else entirely. It's pre-made to be served quickly, so it's been lying around and it has a chewy consistency. Essentially we have just spent $18 on something that tastes even worse than one of those (UK reference alert) frozen Pizza Express pizzas sold in supermarkets. I point this out to Chris and we both laugh because if we didn't, we might cry.
The disappointment won't end there.
I don't bother getting an alcoholic drink because the moment has well and truly passed; it's basically my bedtime at this point. We get to our seats on a balcony to the left of the stage. I've not been to this venue before but it holds about 4,000 people standing and while I'm grateful to have a seat (my mosh-pit days are well and truly over) I can't help feeling like we're missing out on the atmosphere. We're literally on the back row on these funny stools; it's a bit like being in a conference or lecture theatre. And even though the band are brilliant, from where we're sitting they don't sound it; the bass is booming.
The silver lining is that there is someone having an even worse night than us. There's a couple sitting in front and the guy seems to be getting increasingly frustrated by people leaving their seats to lean over the balcony and take photos, blocking his view. It happens so many times, he eventually loses it and goes over to the staff to complain. He looks so angry, and his partner is rubbing his back to calm him down. It would be funny if it wasn't so uncomfortable to watch. But at least it takes our minds off our own shit.
Eventually, we decide to cut our losses and slip out the venue before the end of the encore. We have a babysitter to get back for, after all. But just as we're walking out of the main doors we hear the very familiar, and very striking first few chords of Fontaines D.C's last song of the night. It's 'I Love You'. We pause for a moment and look at each other. We know what we need to do. So we leg it.
Thirty seconds later, we're back at the arena, standing in the thick of the crowd, arms wrapped around each other, singing along to what will, from hereon, be known as, "Maggie's song." Thinking about our little girl. And feeling all the feels.
Just love your writing style. I’m in the story with you. I can visualize the whole experience. Such a joy to read. Best to you and Chris.
Oh I loved this Martha! Great little read xx