The Infamous Stringdusters were in town and we (Banjo Man, Dancing Mandolin Player and I) had tickets for the 10 PM show.

So we hurried from Trinity to a new place called The Hive.  Its interior looked like a House of Blues–great stage, lighting, dark wood, rustic, two levels, etc.

Banjo Man thought I put his wrist band on too tight and said he had no circulation in his hand.

So dramatic.

The Stringdusters, a wild–and I mean wild–bluegrass-rock band took the stage at 11 PM.

We usually are in bed at 9:30.  So we were so proud of ourselves for staying awake.  The band was great, the crowd was under-forty, and Banjo Man wanted to go home after the first set.

“I’m the oldest person in the whole place,” he whined.  “And it’s midnight.”

DMP and I refused to leave.  We knew we had already hurt ourselves by staying up so late.  Another hour wasn’t going to make any difference.

I think we arrived back home around 1:30 AM.  We were thrilled to have stayed out so late.  No one could remember the last time we’d done anything like that together.

Maybe in the ’80’s.