Personal Party

So the Metallica concert was yesterday and I'm so ready to write about it. You don't understand, I took notes. In a notepad. I also (of course) photographed  the event with my trusty iphone. It dawned on me, however, that I can't give you a proper recap without laying down some groundwork. You need to get a full understanding of one of my terms in order to appreciate a part of my Metallica concert going experience. Hence, the latest installment of Lainey's Terms: Personal Party.

Let me set the stage: You're driving down the highway on your commute home from work. You happen to glance over to the left and see a guy in the car jamming to the song on the radio. Not just jamming, but singing, doing an interpretive dance, playing drums against the steering wheel, just L-I-V-I-N'. That man, my friends, is having a Personal Party. There is no need for him to share his joy with the rest of the world; he is his best audience.

You would be surprised at how often I use this term in my daily vernacular. People all around this city have Personal Parties. It's brilliant to witness.

This gentleman below is the embodiment of a Personal Party:

He was Mike's buddy last night. We loved him because he was really into the Metallica. REALLY into them. And so made the concert more fun. My notes on Steven*: Boat shoes, Dane Cook T-shirt, awesome. P. Party (it was dark, I had to abbreviate). Though he was a big fan and Mike's concert soulmate, he lost points when he left for the bathroom during "Master of Puppets." Mike even told him something, "Dude, it's 'Master of Puppets.' What are you doing?"  It wasn't enough for Steven to enjoy the encore from the comfort of his seat. No, Steven had to go to the stairs to rock out. He was going to rock so hard that he needed the support of the railing. This is him in a particularly inspired moment. Personal. Party.

(*Note: We never got his name but I find it fitting to name people. He looked like a Steven. Just don't call him Steve; it's a sensitive issue).