Trayvon Martin and the fist-fighting wymen at the Melissa Etheredge concert: July 15, 2013,Red Bank, NJ

Somebody bring me some water…to throw on the fighting wymen ruining the Melissa Etheredge concert for the rest of us who waited months to see her, paid $100 per ticket, and got special haircuts (another $10!) for the event.

OK. I got that off my chest. And I know old, straight, married women shouldn’t use the dyke word.  So I didn’t, but I wanted to. I know only lesbians are allowed to use it, and as  a gay man stuck inside a straight woman’s body, I kinda feel entitled.

While the fight was escalating a few rows behind us in the beautiful, fully restored Count Basie Theatre, combat noise was competing with the band. My life began take on the proverbial flash-before-eyes. I wondered how my girlfriend and I would get out of the theater if things got really ugly.  Also flashing before my eyes…the day’s top news story regarding George Zimmerman and Travon Martin, heavy on my mind for days.

I thought about attending a Travon Martin gathering…and yes, from a woman with a Facebook full of kittens and a blog full of reminiscence and self-deprecation, I know this comes as a shock. I won’t attend a Travon gathering, because if a few brawling lady lumberjacks make me feel threatened, I should probably just stay home and name-call from the relative safety of my computer.  I understand the Huff Post point of view by Suzan McDowell .

My Ovation and me back in the day.

My Ovation and me back in the day.

The whole thing makes me incredibly sad.

I sat down to tell you how much I enjoyed a concert last night. When the fight broke out behind me and I tasted the tension, I couldn’t help but think about the tensions brewing in major cities right now. I couldn’t stop thinking about the days following 9/11/01, days when smoke lingered and folks were suddenly more neighborly. One incident brought the nation together.  Another divides us. I get the sense that it will get worse before it gets better.

These thoughts occurred to me while I was wondering where the diminutive elderly volunteer usher was to break things up. (Yes, I was willing to have a senior citizen defend me if necessary; she had a really big flashlight).

Had I had a starter pistol, I would have shot it in the air just to get someone’s attention so the concert could continue. Who thinks you are going to go to a musical Sapphic love-fest needing items of self-defense?

Melissa put on a show that rivaled the intensity of a Springsteen concert, and this from a Jersey girl. (She is listed as #332 on the website Not In Hall Of Fame).

Today I will forget about the violent interlude and bang the crap out of my Etheredge-inspired Ovation guitar; Melissa told us all we should take all the energy in the room and go out and do something creative and good.

Somebody bring me some water!