I have had two granddaughters staying with us this week. They had exceptionally good (translation: outrageously expensive!) tickets to see One Direction at the arena that is only a few minutes from here. One Direction, for those who may have been locked in a suitcase for the past two years, is a Brit boy band akin to the Beatles way back when. As did the Beatles, these young lads have the ability to rev up and rile teenage girls’ hormones into a frenzy beyond belief.
The boys arrived in South Florida a few days prior to their concert and my two young ladies immediately went into stalk mode. They have been to the boys’ hotel and to several locations they have been rumored to have been sighted. Their noses have been plastered to their cells phones as they exchange messages and pictures with a gazillion other girls all doing the same thing. I am impressed with their clandestine accuracy and ability to tract the maneuvers of each individual boy and pretty much know exactly where each is when. The CIA should take note. Maybe the Department of Homeland Security needs to enlist this teary eyed, super hyper entourage of teenage commandos.
I can imagine a legion of these kids launched as a defensive mechanism constantly scanning the horizon for terrorist activity. Can’t you just see them—a loosely disciplined mass of hyped up adrenaline, overdone makeup and bizarre hairdos all similarly dressed in high-top sneakers and pink camouflage fatigues. Their mission as first-reactors would be to do what they do best: screech in high pitched decibels alerting the countryside that the target has been precisely located and identified. I don’t know about you, but my homeland feels more secure already.
While I ponder all this, it is now past 10 o’clock on the morning after the great concert. My two recruits are fast asleep after texting away well into the wee hours comparing data with just about everyone else who attended the concert and needed to expel the bountiful euphoria pulsing from every pore for hours afterwards. They warned me that One Direction concerts are serious events and extremely exhaustive. They said they may have to spend the entire day in bed…it’s very typical, I was told, of what they are going through at the moment. What’s that you ask? Well, according to them, it is referred to as PCD…Post Concert Depression. I sense a weakness in homeland security.
Books by Marc Kuhn: THE POPE’S STONE, an historical novel that follows two descendants of a Virginia family who, despite living a century apart, share uncanny similarities in their lives; NEVER GOOSE A MOOSE, a collection of whimsical verse featuring thought-provoking “never-do’s” that children should beware of; and ABOUT A FARM, a children’s book about challenges we all face every day, regardless of where we live. All three books are available at amazon.com and each has its own .com website under its title.
Intimate details about Marc Kuhn and other exhilarating stuff at marckuhn.com
Many of the pictures used on my blog are photographs I’ve taken. If you see one you want and it is one of mine, simply ask in the comment section below and I will send it to you. Other illustrations used within this blog are culled from available images on the Internet. Copyrighted material is not intentionally displayed. If a source is provided, attribution is included on the blog. There is no attempt to steal or devalue any material used within this blog. If you have an issue or concern about anything included in the text or illustrations on this blog, please contact me.
Marc’s Blog is copyrighted 2012, 2013, Marc L. Kuhn. Reblogging is permitted with notification to author and if presented with attribution to source. Other reproduction, whether in whole or in part, must receive permission from author. Contact author via comment on this blog space or at email@example.com.