I remember seeing the band Weezer back in 1992. The band had just released their first album and my friends and I, obsessed, drove to Atlanta to see them in concert. I was sixteen, it was an all-ages show, and I somehow managed to meet Rivers Cuomo, the lead singer, who did nothing but get my blood pumping. I even got the Weezer haircut (obsessed, remember?). Flash forward 20 years later, and all those feelings flooded back when I caught them at Borgata in Atlantic City.
Was I fist pumping? Sure I was. It’s Weezer. Maybe their last few albums bombed, but an hour and a half of hit songs like My Name is Jonas, Tired of Sex, Beverly Hills, Hash Pipe and Say Ain’t So was better than finding dance space at a circuit party. Sure, I may have been the only gay in attendance (well, according to my GrindR) but… it was Weezer. I was sixteen all over again.
Luckily, in reality, I really wasn’t sixteen, as I hit the slots at Caesars, one of the few hotels in Atlantic City that’s a member of IGLTA, and boozed it up at Revel, the fancy new casino resort that’s only been open two weeks—and consistently sold out every night (thanks to Beyonce kicking off its grand opening). My friends and I hit the beach for some sunbathing (and naturally checking out those Jersey boys with Situation-style abs), and I made room for some pampering at Borgata’s cruise-y spa. In honor of Weezer’s twentieth anniversary, I should have gotten that Weezer bowlcut in the adjoining full-service salon. But I’m 34 now. The concert was good enough.