So, my husband and I went to see John Prine Friday night.

He’s so awesome, with his lyrics that turn me into a blubbering mess and all.

But, that evening?

It was one of those.

One where everything seems to go wrong, and easy things are difficult.

You know, Murphy’s Law. Is that what the people call it? I’ve always used that saying, without having any idea what I’m saying.

Whatever.

Thankfully, it was also one of those nights when we both had the patience to laugh about everything.

That’s it! We’ll turn lemons into lemonade…with vodka!

Except there was no vodka. Or lemonade. Or water. Or anything else.

Concessions closed.

This, after it took an hour to figure out where the hell to park, all the while thinking of the ice cold beer I was about to chug enjoy.

Someone either got really baked and forgot to post the final “Public Parking This Way ——>” sign, or me and my husband’s combined IQs are lower than the speed limit at an elementary school crosswalk.

I mean, there were three signs, and then they just sort of…stopped, leaving us to drive in a circle five times. You know, PARLIAMENT>Big Ben>PARLIAMENT>Big Ben style.

After, finally, finding the parking garage, we headed into the venue and took our seats.

Now, let me preface this by saying that I love live music.

And, at a balls to the wall rock concert, I’m not about to shush anyone. If anything, people shush me.

But, this was not one of those shows, or environments.

John Prine can still perform with the best of them, but he is…not young.

And, many of his songs are S   L   O   W.

As the show kicked off, it was evident that we were sitting directly in front of the BIGGEST JOHN PRINE FAN IN THE WORLD.

And, he wanted everyone to know it by pretending to know every. single. god. damn. lyric.

Had he been wearing a frilly bra and lacy panties, he would have definitely tossed them up on stage and wept.

From the moment JP began the show, the guy was singing as loud as he could, but in that way when people sing one word behind each word of the song.

It was like John Prine’s non-musically inclined twin brother was echoing his every word.

He tried with all his might to hit each and every note. He even cleared his throat at one point before attempting a particularly high one.

He was singing so loud, that I couldn’t even hear who we’d paid to hear.

And, in between, he loudly explained the history and meaning of each song to those around him.

You guys, it was like we were sitting in front of Wikipedia.

Around the fourth song, my husband and I looked at each other with an IS THIS GUY SERIOUS face.

So, I did the total pussy side-turn in hopes he’d get the hint.

He didn’t.

Now, before I go any further,  I’d like to point out that this man was obviously very intelligent and well-spoken. I could tell this by the very loud conversations he was having with his friends.

Anyway, around the fifth song, I had to know who this asshole was.

So, I did a complete turn around to match the face with the voice, and to politely ask him to please for the love of god shut the fuck up.

And, that’s when I noticed it.

John Prine’s non-musically inclined twin brother was…in a wheelchair.

This was precisely the point that the night turned into a Curb Your Enthusiasm episode.

I whispered to my husband, “Shit. Guess what?  John Prine’s twin brother is in a wheelchair. I can’t possibly ask him to shut the fuck up now, because then I’ll be known as the bitch who shushed the guy in the wheelchair, right? But, I mean people in wheelchairs can be assholes, too, right? I shouldn’t say anything, should I? Or, should I?”

My husband nodded, concurring with all points.

So, we sat quietly for the remainder of the show, and listened to the worst singer of all time perform one of the best singer of all time’s songs.

(and-all-for-the-low-low-price-of-70-bucks-a-ticket.)

The worst part was when I got up to pee and lap water from the bathroom faucet like a Labrador who’d played fetch for a few minutes too long.

As I walked back to my seat, my flip-flops were, admittedly, flip-flopping super loudly.

And, the guy…the guy…wait for it…the guy turned and gave me the nastiest can you please keep it down look ever.

REALLY?

Anyway, we had to leave the show a bit prematurely, during the last song, to get home in time to the boys.

So, as I got up and walked out, I politely, and with a wink, asked if he would be performing an encore for us.

And, now, I will forever be known at that venue as the bitch who sassed the guy in the wheelchair.

Sigh.

I’m such a dick.

*Luckily, Mr. Prine played my favorite song of his. And, his biggest fan in the world knew none of the words.

P.S. I am in no way dissing people in wheelchairs. I am dissing assholes.