Last weekend my husband, CF, and I had a night out with some friends. The tickets became available to us when another couple had to cancel, and being the awesome opportunity it promised to be, we simply had to say, “Yes!” These tickets were for the sold out concert of Steve Martin and the Steep Canyon Rangers.
If you’re even vaguely familiar with television, you probably have many memories, if not fond ones (like myself), of Steve Martin performing his comedy acts, or hosting for Saturday Night Live. Or, maybe you remember the countless comedy movies he has starred in?
After doing my research (via Google), of Steve Martin and his band, I must admit I was “thrilled” to discover we would be entertained by Steve Martin playing his banjo, as well as other members of the group playing various stringed instruments. I absolutely LOVE the banjo, and the fiddle. But then I also love the guitar and the mandolin, and the ukulele, and… oh, I think you get it; I love bluegrass.
Having worked the night shift from the previous day, I had to forgo at least a few hours of sleep in order to be ready in time. Knowing I would have plenty of time to sit idle during the one and a half-hour drive to meet up with our friends, I brought along my nail polish. I rarely paint my fingernails; it’s too much bother with my occupation, but I do like to keep my toes painted, especially for nights such as this. So while we were moving down the road, I worked on perfecting my toes for the big night, until the unthinkable happened, that is.
Yes, the bottle of bright pink polish slipped right out of my hand, flipping upside down and spilling onto my beautiful black and white skirt. I did catch it, mid-air, and probably saved my skirt from further despair; however my hand was now covered in the sticky, pink mess as well!
CF, my husband, gave me a look of sympathy, and asked what he could do to help. Short of stopping at a Wal-Mart on the way and picking up some acetone and cotton balls, I was clueless. Wal-Mart was out of our way, and so was every other place except for a little gas station. He came out with a soda, a bottle of nail polish remover, and a package of tissues. What a guy :-).
I worked the skirt over with the polish remover, but to our great disappointment, it barely touched the bright pink on the white fabric. I called my friend, Sherry, and asked her to bring her strongest polish remover, and lots of cotton balls. She laughed and said, “Oh no, what happened?”
Being the awesome friend she is, she helped me work over the pink stain. And what do you know? She had the little bottle of wonder that took out nearly all of that stain. I was left with barely a hint of pink, and being an evening show with dim lights, the stains were not going to be anything obvious. By the time we reached Omaha, however, I fear we were all high on acetone fumes!
When at last we reached our restaurant, Longhorn Steakhouse, we suddenly ran into rain, and then hail! We were on a bit of a tight schedule, and so we all just ran for it. Good thing we did too, because within minutes, the rain turned into a downpour, and the hail just got bigger and bigger.
Once safely inside, and being a special night out with friends and my handsome husband, I ordered myself a sangria to celebrate. I had the pleasure of trying this drink once before, and loved it! I must say, however, I didn’t think this one was particularly sweet and delicious. It had some odd bitter taste that I just couldn’t place. As soon as the bread was served, I took a small slice, added a little butter, and was a little disappointed that it too did not appeal to me. I told CF, “My bread has a strange taste, I really don’t like it”. He looked at me funny, and said his was good. I looked at Sherry, and she said her’s was delicious. It only took me a few minutes more to realize, the awful taste in the bread and the drink were coming from my acetone-laced fingers, which had touched the straw… and the food. I promptly went to the restroom and scrubbed my hands several times over, however it did not do much to remove the acetone. At least after that realization, I knew not to touch any food with my fingers.
Next we arrived at the Holland Performing Arts Center in Omaha. Our seats, that presumably were in the far, far away section (aka the “nosebleed section”), actually turned out to be wonderful. We were in the balcony, and off to a side, within very good view of the stage; I don’t think we could have had better viewing in most places on the main floor.
Steve Martin and The Steep Canyon Rangers were definitely entertaining! Even my darling husband, the man who isn’t necessarily a bluegrass fan, but who came that night to be by my side, found himself tapping his feet to the music as well. There was so much talent on the stage, and it was very evident that the group enjoyed what they were doing, just as much as the audience enjoyed watching and listening. And what would a night with Steve Martin be without a little comedy? We were either smiling big with delight over the music, or in stitches over his humor; it was a perfect night of entertainment for sure.
If you’re a Steve Martin fan, or especially a bluegrass fan, I would highly recommend the show. Expect to be amazed, and smile so much that your cheeks hurt! But seriously, leave the nail polish at home!