someone told me earlier this summer that stone temple pilots suck in concert.  i was seeing them last weekend at virgin music festival, and, frankly, i had been completely excited.  much as i was when i was 16 and listening to big empty, teenage angst coursing through my veins as i drove home in my blue chevy cavalier from my boyfriend’s house.  it was nearing 11p, and i was assured a stern talking to because, well, on this particular night, i was running late.  apparently i didn’t come up for air enough to notice the time.

as the music started into “TIIIIIIIIIME TO TAKE HER HOOME” i rounded what should have been a full-stop corner with just a slight pump of the brakes.  a cop coming the other direction quickly did a hollywood-style u-turn while turning on his lights and siren, only to pull over a terrified 16-year-old who’d been driving less than a year and give her a ticket that would cost her a 30-day suspension.

i cried and called my mom from my zack-morris style car phone — not quite a cell phone, since it required a lighter plug to work — and told her that not only was i going to be more like a half hour past curfew, but i was bringing home a court date that would inevitably result in her coordinating with dad to cart me around for a month to my many responsibilities.  such as a job and gymnastics.  many.

laying on the grass last saturday, i expected a scott weiland to seem void of emotion and probably high.  i knew his shirt would come off, but surprisingly it didn’t until his bandmates already had shed theirs.  instead, what i heard was 1996 playing through my car speakers, except better than the tinny factory-installed ones, with pungent smells wafting through the air mixing with those of fried foods and evening dew.  they sounded alive; and aside from sounding as if they hadn’t just taken on a 12-year break from playing this song, they delivered BEYOND our expectations.

chrisi and i stayed happily for the entire set before nine inch nails conquered the stage in true style, then we broke away to catch kanye, whose ego was bigger than the spotlight he occupied alone in front of his hidden band.

i realized, as i stood among the teeming crowd and jammed to current beats, that my heart was still at the north stage.

every quarter, my company ships off all the 30+ staffers to some hilarious event that usually is based on some incredible competition. from go-karts to paintball and skeet shooting, we’ve run the gamut.

on thursday, we headed down to richmond for our quarterly recap followed by the odyssey challenge. basically, it’s a big ass jungle gym aka my idea of awesome. but, for those people afraid of heights and who aren’t prone to liking balancing games, i suppose it was like hell.

after the safety training and our getting jammed into gear that pressed against and/or emphasized our our no no parts, we hit the tower. we were split up into four teams, and our goal was to traverse four difference challenges AS A TEAM. so lots of strategery and communication involved. it was totally badass. a bit hot, but rad nonetheless.

but what i particularly liked about it was that it leveled the playing field so drastically that everyone was vulnerable. all of the sudden, the people you rely on for information at work or athletic prowess during a typical team building activity weren’t necessarily the strongest players. trust was vital. and you quickly learned who was much less willing to trust.

it’s not everyday that i can be standing on a wire 50 feet above the ground taunting my development director, whose sarcasm and wit normally reign supreme. but it also felt wholly endearing seeing that vulnerability come through, and i appreciate him more now for it.

yaye for jungle gyms.