Year of Firsts: Country Music

Most people, when asked "What music do you like?" will answer "I'll listen to anything but country" (unless you are anyone I have ever dated because apparently I only date people who are super into music and have many specific opinions). I enjoy music well enough, but I've never had strong feelings on it except to say "I don't like country."

I have a friend here though who IS quite into the country music and this friend wanted very much to go to a big country music concert happening in Virginia.  Knowing I can be convinced to do pretty much anything, I was targeted for this venture. I decided it would be another excellent First--my first country music concert, and an opportunity to open my mind to something I had previously stereotyped and dismissed.  

In the weeks leading up to the concert, I was sent a variety of songs by Luke Bryan, Thompson Square, and, most importantly, Florida Georgia Line, who I have come to love. End result, by the time the concert came round I was pretty excited myself.  Turns out country music is AWESOME. Who knew?

The concert itself was quite fun (though it rained through nearly the entire thing, which was miserable for those of us on the lawn), but not an especially exciting tale. There were a lot of girls in cowboy boots, and everyone wore flannel. A fair number of trucks in the parking lot were covered in NRA stickers and I can't count the number of times I heard "God bless America! God bless our troops!" It was quite a different world. Also I was pretty sure Luke Bryan was going to get tackled by some of the more rabidly horny country girls threatening to swarm the stage and throw their undergarments at his face.  He did not help matters by taking some girl's cell phone and using it to take pictures of his crotch before handing it back to her.

The highlight though, for me, is this story I am about to share with you.

My friend and I pitched our water logged camp right in front of two sisters who were probably in their early and late 20s and immediately became friends with them.  It was they who shared some life changing knowledge with us about the existence of the "pee style." Look it up. The other thing they shared that evening was a story, told by the older girl.

"One morning when I was 11, I went out to the chicken coop to count the chickens. I was counting, one, two, three, four, possum, five, six.....possum?? There was a possum right there in the chicken coop! So I turned around and went back to the house to tell my grandfather and he handed me a rifle and told me, 'You know what to do.'"

At this point in the story, I expected her to say, "But I was 11 years old so obviously I did NOT know what to do so my grandfather took the gun back," but actually she continued thusly:

"So I took the gun and went back out to the chicken coop and pointed the gun at the possum.  But that possum just looked at me, and then turned his back on me! Can you believe it? I pressed the end of the gun right up to his butt."

Here in the story, I thought she would say, "But I couldn't do it, I just couldn't shoot a little creature with its back turned."

But what she actually said was:

"I shot that possum right in the ass and took it back to the house. My mother got out the camera and took photos, one of them is still hanging up somewhere."

My suburban girl heart was completely aghast at this story, and my face showed it I suppose because the girl telling the story turned to me and said, "What? Like you've never shot an animal before?"

I said, "NO! NO, of COURSE I have not SHOT AN ANIMAL BEFORE!"

She looked at me with pity. "Guess you're a city girl."

I guess I am.