Gullible you say? Nay. I am merely trustworthy.

My desire to believe the best in people comes and goes. Sometimes I am so into peace, love, and understanding I want to puke. And sometimes, I think everyone is just out to get me and the world is full of no-gooodnicks. But when I choose to believe that people are essentially good and deserve the benefit of the doubt, humor ensues. I offer you two cases in point. Please, laugh along with me, or at me, or next to me. Please don't laugh behind me, though. That's hurtful and let's face it, pretty tacky.

During the month of August, something happened that hasn't happened since I was in college. I saw two concerts in the same number of weeks. I was fortunate enough to see both The English Beat and Green Day. Both shows were awesome and I'm still feeling the high. Granted, The English Beat ended early due to a highly pyrotechnic storm that breezed in just as the band took the stage, but the few songs they did were amazing.

During the 2nd song, the sweet smell of wacky tobackey came wafting through the crowd. My friends and I looked at each other and laughed. There were some people in the audience who were really enjoying themselves. In between songs, the lead singer said something along the lines of, "I don't want to alarm anyone, but it appears that a small skunk has been wandering through the audience."

I am terrified of skunks. I loathe skunks. Some little kids had monsters in their closets, I had skunks in mine. If I see one, I freak out. Plain and simple freak out. So, after the small skunk announcement had been made, I almost climbed my husband's leg to get away from the small, woodland creature that had joined our happy crowd. And then it dawned on me, mostly because Bryan told me, that skunk meant weed. Haha. I'm a silly, silly person.

Fast forward a week or so to our evening with Green Day. Amazing, wonderful, life-affirming show. And we had floor tickets. We were in the crowd. You could feel the excitement like static electricity during a thunderstorm.

Before the show, I noticed a girl in the crowd. She was standing just to the left of Bryan and me. She also seemed to be dancing to the beat of her own, special drummer. Her outfit was inventive. She had a hot pink, leopard-print, tunic-style top on over red and black, zebra-print leggings. It went lovely with her bright, carrot-colored, long, slightly feathered hair.

Franz Ferdinand took the stage and were great. I admittedly don't know much about this group, but they were a great appetizer to the main course. I again noticed our brightly dressed co-audience member grooving to a beat that was most decidedly not in time with the drummer, guitar, keyboardist, or lead singer who were performing. It was at this moment that something in my head came to the conclusion that this girl must be a little special. (Please note it was not the clothing or the dancing that drove me to this conclusion. It was the total package this girl presented.)

I started looking around for the friends or family members who must have accompanied her to the show. She looked alone. I began to get a little upset. Who would bring a special needs person to a live show and abandon her in the middle of a hyped-up crowd? But then, then my friends, I started to feel triumphant for this girl. She must have come to the show on her own. I was proud of her decision to not let her disabilities keep her from the show she wanted to see. I imagined her catching the bus, or taking a taxi all on her own and was so happy for this girl. I began to feel a sense of righteousness, justice, and equality. I felt a quiet thrill for those who had been kept on the sidelines because of their disabilities or handicaps. I was soaring for this girl!

And then I discovered she was high.