Good Charlotte

I might be getting too old for this but I wanted to see Good Charlotte play the Coca Cola stage at the Stampede.
On the Tuesday night my best friend from work, Melissa and I headed down to the Stampede grounds. We went around the fairground section for a while. I unsuccessfully played the games in some strangely immature, possibly hormonal fit hoping to win a giant Curious George, Spiderman or even perversely, a Giant My Little Pony. Of course I only succeeded in confirming a universal truth, true to both casinos and travelling fairs. The House always wins.
We gathered around with the tattooed, pierced, oddly goth cowboys and girls to watch Good Charlotte play. The band of course started out by telling us how much they loved Calgary and how fantastically good looking we all were. Considering that they were all equally carefully tattooed, pierced, goth looking with artfully greased and spiked hairstyles, it seemed a case of like admiring like.
The music was good, but maybe I am showing my age in that I was more excited about the discovery of mini cinnamon donuts hot off the rack inside the market hall. Get this- Canadians consume more donuts per capita than anyone else in the world. They have more than 30 varieties in some places. Try finding a plain old hot cinnamon one though. You might as well wait for the Toronto Maple Leafs to win the NHL or New Zealand to win test cricket.
It was a beautiful summer’s evening and the sun had not gone down when Melissa’s husband, Tim came to pick her up in his work van. I waved them goodbye and walked up to the Erlton Stampede C train platform, in that cowgirl saunter that looks stupid anywhere else but is inevitable when you’re wearing Alberta boots.