Observe and report

Dear Cellairis Amphitheatre at Lakewood:

I had never visited you before last night, but I’m old enough to remember when you were just the Lakewood Amphitheater — much less fancy, and inexplicably easier to get to via public transportation.

(Side note: What is Cellairis? A constellation? Anxiety drug? Wiener go-go juice?)

Anyway, a $20 ticket special for Nelly, TLC and Flo Rida was enough to get me off my couch and onto your lawn — with the kids even.

However, when the first cloud of weed smoke wafted over, I began to question my parenting choices.

I’m not the only one who should question choices.

Take, for example, this scene:

Let’s break this down.

In blue, a gaggle of girls in Uniform 1.

In red, a gaggle in Uniform 2.

In green, the one dork they brought along to be their Snap photographer.

They didn’t even talk to each other. Or listen to the music. They just took photos for 30 minutes.

And let’s talk about the booze. Everything seemed sold out in the concession area, but you could buy plenty on the lawn.

Anyway, Nelly was great, and helped me redeem myself with Dominic, who thought I was dragging him to a country concert. (He’s lazy, I’ve told you. Too lazy to Google, apparently.)

But my main interest was TLC. T-Boz and Chilli have still got it, from what I could tell. (Your acoustics made them sound like they were singing out of a portable speaker at a pool party.)

Once we heard “Waterfalls,” we bounced — along with hundreds of other ’90s music lovers who had to work the next day.

So thanks for an entertaining night. It’s unlikely I’ll be back. I guess I just prefer smaller, more intimate venues.

It’s not you; it’s me.

😉

Your friend,
Beth