That time I went to a Prince concert instead of going to bed like a regular grownup

There were plenty of reasons for a responsible adult like me to skip this concert: It was a weeknight. We have kids. It was the same night as an important work event. I like going to bed at 9 p.m.

Sam and I tend to regret the adventures we don’t take more than the ones we do, and we’ve lived in Chanhassen for 6 years and never seen Prince. We enlisted a neighbor to watch the kids, and we bought tickets for the 11 p.m. show (so I could still attend the work meeting. I am responsible, after all.)

After an hour of waiting on a bus, in which I began to question my ability to stay alert through this endeavor, we were dropped off at Prince's home/studio/concert venue Paisley Park, aka the white buildings with purple lights that I drive past on my way to the gym. We were briefed and re-briefed on the Paisley Park Rules:

1. No cell phone use

Code Red

The first time, it seemed unusual. “Psst… Code Red!” “What?” “Over there!”

As I walked toward the locker room at my gym, I heard whispering from a group of teenage employees who were folding towels. The words “Code Red” sounded serious, but their expressions were decidedly not.

The second time, it seemed personal. “Code Red, locker room.” I looked over my shoulder, and one girl and two boys were huddled, whispering, giggling.

I don’t know if “Code Red” is my nickname (due to hair color, perhaps?) or if it’s their secret phrase for people whose appearance they find amusing, but I walked away convinced that the teens were making fun of me. There’s plenty to make fun of: I’m overweight and awkward, even though I’ve been working out regularly for years. I wear silly, colorful headbands. I do not fear the brutal honesty of leggings.

And yet, those kids cut me down. For a moment, they made me feel like my 14-year-old self who signed up for summer school gym so that I could avoid the judgmental stares of my classmates.