Last Saturday night, Auburn and I made the mistake of seeing our friend Regina Spektor (whom we discovered before anyone) play the piano and sing songs at Brandeis University. It was a general admission show put on by the student government, so the tickets were ultra-cheap and the attendees were mostly hip and smart Brandeis students, except for a dozen or so pockets of friends-of-a-friend, dumb bitch and douche bag riffraff. Punchline: My wife almost got in a fight with a 20 year old blonde co-ed. The show was in a small gymnasium. We arrived at 7:00; the opener guy started his thing a bit after 8:00. By 8:40, post-opener guy, we were counting freckles and untrimmed neck hairs on the folks in front of us. Literally, I’d aim for my front pocket and snag the trim of a young sheila’s 7 For All Mankind denim buttocks. As we stood there, accumulating perspiration from the thousand little clouds of attendees’ steamy breath slowly rising, merging, and overwhelming any degree of “room temperature,” the shoving began. Background info: it’s not unusual for Auburn to get spoken harshly to, yelled or screamed at during her daily grind with society’s underground population of dysfunctional and damned. It’s fairly regular. So, this, sort of, cute blonde with large loopy earrings, tube top, and cell phone on ear starts pushing her way through next to Auburn and the 5 or 6 others cramped at her right flank. I don’t recall the exact exchange that followed Auburn’s extension of elbows and return shoves. Dumb-bitch blonde said something to the effect of, “I’m sorry! Fuck! I’m just trying to get through!” Auburn yelled back that there was no room. Dumb Bitch blonde comes back with some other exchange and the back and forth began. This is where my brain switched into on-guard mode. The Dumb Bitch’s friends were now squeezed behind her also watching intently. I examined the yelling from Auburn to the Dumb Bitch like an invisible ping-pong ball. I was making sure none of the other friends were preparing to join in the non-calm correspondence and especially watching out for the Dumb Bitch’s hands, ready to step in, like a badass, to block any cat-slaps. Auburn sent away the skinny, pony-tailed blonde with one final remark that I did not foresee. “And you know what? You Smell! Yeah, you smell.” “What the hell?” was my first thought. But, apparently, it wasn’t a random remark. The girl, in her tube top and Saturday night glamour, apparently had a little onion under the armpits going-on. And Auburn called her on it. Little, now self conscious, Dumb Bitch squeezed her way elsewhere. My suspicion is that she also realized mid-argument, “Uh, this girl isn’t backing down, and... she looks a little older than me. Hmm. Maybe she’s not a student.” I don’t know though. That’s just speculation. I guess the overall point is 1. General Admissions shows with low admission prices should never be attended, and 2. the wonderfully ascetic and tough as hell Eastern Massachusetts culture has successfully turned my former Oklahoma Baptist wife into a near fighter. And I approve. | 
