Tonight has finally come. The anticipation is killing me. It's once again time for the Indigo Girls concert to come to Salt Lake.
I freaking LOVE the Indigo Girls. Their voices, their harmonies, their lyrics... It's all good. My sister equally loves the Indigo Girls. One year we saw them in concert up at Deer Valley, and feeling out of place among all the lesbians, we shrugged our shoulders and decided to join 'em, and spent the rest of the concert with one arm over the other's shoulder.
This memory triggers a story not told too often; perhaps not often enough.
Back in 2003 my sis and I went on a road trip to Phoenix and on the way we decided to stop at Hoover Dam. We were walking around and about 10 yards in front of us there was an old man being pushed in his wheelchair by perhaps his son. As they got nearer the old man yelled "STOP!" to his son. I swear his wheels SCREECHed to a hault. The old man pointed with his decrepit crooked finger at my sis and me and says, very matter-of-factly, as if this was an educational lesson not to be missed, "NOW THOSE ARE LESBIANS!"
My eyes grew wide. I looked at my sis and she looked at me, and we just smiled and walked past them with our arms around each other.
