Once when I was twenty, my mother bought us all tickets to a Christmas orchestra show. We had a nice dinner and dressed in black and I wore red lipstick. When we got to the Fox, I was standing in my thrift store cashmere and mink coat. After looking up in awe at the beautiful theater, I finally realized that the people surrounding me were drinking beer out of plastic cups and wearing Slayer t-shirts.
We all sat stiffly in our balcony seats through two and a half hours of the Transiberian Orchestra while others were hooting and hollering. When the crowd cheered for an encore, my sister and I looked uncomfortably at each other, acknowledging how badly we wanted the concert to end.
Afterward, we went out for a night cap. No one said a word about the show, but we politely thanked my Mom for the tickets. Minutes passed in silence. Then we all started laughing at once. We had no idea we were going to see a Heavy Metal Christmas concert. Mom even laughed. It was great.