Back in the day, hubby was a fan of metal and hair bands and was even himself a drummer in a hair band. I myself was more of a pop-'80s fan in high school, but I eventually joined the scene and ranks of trashy, tramped-out hair band groupies. Anyway, when hubby recently heard Stryper was touring again, he waxed nostalgic. And though I was never a Stryper fan myself, preferring my taste in male rockers look less pretty than me, I joined him on his very long trip down memory lane this weekend to North Carolina.

Waiting to be let in the theater Saturday night, I thought I was in the twilight zone. Hubby and I had been making bets on whether the crowd would be primarily metal heads or Jesus freaks. The latter prevailed. Big time. "Well the best thing about Stryper is they use their God-given talents for the Lord Our Savior Jesus Christ" was just one example of a barrage of similar comments I was surrounded by. Knowing my penchant for snark, hubby begged me to behave and I did, but it was really challenging. I have no problem with faith but this over the top stuff just drives me batty.

The band looked like aged posers clinging to their hay day by their fingernails as did most of the audience. And let me tell you, when they played "To Hell With The Devil" and the crowd went wild, I went hysterical (though to his credit, Michael Sweet hasn't lost one bit of his voice and range). When the band did their traditional bible throwing, I was again grateful hubby insisted on back row seats so we could make a quick get away before the show-ending 10 minute prayer. I was also grateful because it turned out the guy who sat next to me was in the same boat I was, so we rolled eyes together. A lot. And eventually hubby joined us. I guess you could say misery loves company.