Together we drove to Nancy, settled in to our hotel, stepped out in the old town for a bite, and walked to the venue. Our walk to the venue wasn't without incident as my friend failed to notice a slight lip developing in the marble paving stones. This lip didn't agree with her kitten heels, and she pitched forward face first as though she was sliding into home plate for a world series win when her team was tied in the bottom of ninth with two outs. I've never seen anything quite like it. After ensuring she was alright, we both burst into laughter along with those around us. Dignity recovered, we continued on our way to l'Autre Canal. While walking, we fell in behind several scantily clad early twenty types, and for a moment I thought we might be the oldest attendees. I was relieved to find that, once inside, we weren't and neither were the twenty somethings the youngest.
The concert was a rather packed venue, floor only, that turned out to be a heck of a lot of fun. Stromae's stage sets were aesthetically interesting and stimulating. He sounded great live. The fans were energetic. That energy was consumed by dancing and caused them to become a bit sweaty. Sweaty without deodorant = unpleasant smell that induces dry hacking. The girl next to me was immaculately groomed, and I had seen her change out of comfortable walking shoes and into stilettos prior to entering the venue. Why, oh why, did she think deodorant was unnecessary?
The show lasted about two hours, during which my friend and I failed to remember that we weren't nubile twenty-somethings. As a result of my ebullient dancing and rhythmic jumping, I pulled a back muscle I wasn't aware I had. I was down and out for two days. We returned to our hotel to find that my friend's ankle was bluish and the size of an orange.
The pain was worth it, though. I had a great time and a great weekend.
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