I went to my cousin’s confirmation today and expected a nice, quick ceremony confirming my cousin as a soldier of God. While that did happen, I also was treated to a fun little rock concert courtesy of the church’s band.
Let me set the table for you. Nice church. One of those churches shaped like a cross, with pews down the middle and to the left and right of the alter. For those of you that have never stepped in a church or don’t know basic English, the alter is where the magic happens. So I’m off to the right and the band is across the way. I’m sitting there in my nice blue pants, IZOD sweater, watch on my wrist, and Christ on my mind.
The mass starts and about 10 minutes in its time for the first song. There was an organist, a singer, a kid with a triangle, and a guitarist. All normal church band things. The drummer was behind some screen so I didn’t initially see him but this man was ready to rock. There we were sitting down watching the same old song that comes around every third week of March at church “One breeeaaaadddd one boddyyyyyyyy” suddenly followed by this guy banging away on his drums
~badum dum badom kshhhhh~ “One Lorrrdddd of alllll” ~badoo doo badoo kshhhh~ I could not believe my ears. My mind was racing a mile a minute. Where am I? What’s happening? This isn’t the Xfinity Center. Why am I at a concert? I can’t afford tickets. Why would I buy tickets when I can’t even afford Dunkins anymore so I’m stuck drinking Cumberland Farms coffee? How irresponsible of me. My parents are gonna be pissed. After I regrouped I took in the scene. Maybe I’m the weird one who hasn’t been to a church with drums, but I believe I’m in the majority here when I say it’s a strange setting. I absolutely could not contain my laughter. There I was, like Elaine trying to control herself after Jerry plopped the PEZ dispenser on her lap.
For my fellow church-goers, you know there’s nothing more fierce than a church laugh. There’s so much pressure not to laugh that it becomes uncontrollable. I was biting my cheeks, squeezing my hands, bouncing my legs, and clenching my cheeks (not the ones on my face). But it was to no avail. I could feel the priest staring at my head which was stuffed halfway down my sweater to hide my smile as a result of my 4th grade sense of humor.
Thankfully, I only frequent that church once every few years for special occasions like a conformation. Lets hope that drummer stays put and doesn’t follow me around.
The Locker Room 