Is Linkin Park the Best Band Ever?

My 15-year-old son is at a rock concert tonight ... oh my.

Linkin Park, the band Jeffery boldly proclaims is the "Best Band Ever," is playing in the nearest big city. His father and I offer up lists of other bands and performers we might put on the list ahead of Linkin Park -- The Beatles, The Rolling Stones, CCR, Springsteen, Warren Zevon, Elvis Costello, REO Speedwagon (this one is my husband's) -- and Jeffery just laughs at us and our oldness and lameness.

Jeffery's friend's dad offered to take the boys to the concert. I took a deep breath and said yes.
It's not that I don't trust his friend -- this boy has been coming around our house since 4th grade and he's one of my favorites. And his dad is a good, dependable guy.

I'm just a worry-prone freak.

I didn't attend my first rock concert (Adam Ant and the Romantics, for all you 1980s rejects out there) until well into my college years. And I don't really think I grew a working brain until about 25.

So I worry that my baby is out late on a school night, in a place where people might (you know they might) be smoking pot or drinking al-key-hall. And I worry he might make a bad decision.

I worry that he'll go to the bathroom by himself and somebody will snatch him (don't tell me it would be hard to snatch a 6 foot tall, 200 pounder -- reality rarely cuts my worry). I worry that somebody won't like the way he looks (he will give off too much of the straight A student or too much of the semi-jock for some punk or freak's taste) and will be beat up, or cut, or shot.

I gotta quit watching so much television.

Anyway, I will go to bed at the usual time, in preparation for my 5:30 a.m. workday start. But I doubt I will sleep until I hear the garage door open and my son, my baby, my first born, slam the door to his bedroom.

Then, and only then, will I stop worrying.

At least until tomorrow.