A week ago we scored last minute tickets to see BRUCE! Springsteen. We enlisted friends to watch the kids and off we went, first to dinner and then the concert.

We were feeling good about ourselves after getting carded for the second time that night, and went to our seats with wine to share in a giant soda cup.

I struck up a conversation with the people behind us. The guy mentioned he’d seen Bruce the night before and it was fantastic. He was a loud talker, which says a lot since I’m a phone shouter who can’t hear very well. His continued talking as loud as he possibly could after the concert started so his date could hear him talking over “Badlands.” And then “Candy’s Room.” And then three more amazing songs.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was because he was really pissing me off, but I turned around and gave them a big ssshhhh!! They looked at me like my own kids do when they’ve been caught being bad – wide eyed and guilty – and said in unison “Sorry!”

I was so proud of myself that I said something and didn’t stew in rage while the guy tried to woo the unwooable, a girl 10 times hotter and 10 years younger.

A couple days later, I eagerly told my story at a party, thinking I was a champion to concertgoers everywhere. Two people said, “You did what?” Hmmm. Did I do something wrong? One person pointed out that I was the jackass for scolding people trying to have a good time at a concert. But they were yelling in my good ear!

I keep thinking about the look on their faces. Now that I have children, am I universal mom, the one young people say sorry to when they swear in public? The one people look guiltily at when they reek of pot?

I don’t want to be that lady.

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