She: Last weekend, at the Santa Barbara Bowl, I had a very painful realization: I am officially “old.”

Z: I’ve been telling you that for years, which I know endears me to you. It’s because you’re still two grades older than I am.

She: I never thought that giving in to old age would have such a defining moment, or if it did, I thought for sure there would be hair dye involved.

Z: It was a rock concert. I’m sure plenty of the kids there were using hair dye, if not quite the color you would use.

She: And skin dye. Definitely not the color I would use.

Z: Was this really your first experience with a mosh pit? We weren’t even that close to it.

She: Hey, I used to work security at the Bowl. I know what those guys get paid, and there’s no way they are going to risk their necks in the mosh pit.

Z: You? Security? I’m guessing there weren’t a lot of mosh pits back at the Loggins & Messina concerts.

She: There’s a fine line between a mosh pit and a prison riot, and now I’m just too old to be anywhere near either one of them — at least not with my eyes open.

Z: Do you think when this generation gets old and starts going to symphonies, they’ll create mosh pits near the orchestra pit?

She: If I had walked into the concert and immediately been greeted by a bunch of bare-chested, tattooed guys shoving one another around, I think I would have been able to handle it a little better. But for the first few bands — Everlast, the Whigs, the Flobots — people were just chilling out in the 90-degree heat.

Z: See? You’re not old. You can still use words like “chilling out” with impressive authority.

She: What I didn’t know is that they were secretly getting drunk in preparation for fighting and shoving one another around when Pennywise hit the stage.

Z: I don’t think they were drinking all that secretly. I talked to someone who worked at the concert, and she said there were two broken ankles and a separated shoulder — before the concert even started.

She: My favorite ironic moment was when Pennywise stopped playing and told people to stop fighting and “be cool” — then continued on with its 17th song about not listening to authority and doing whatever you want.

Z: I used to not understand the appeal of slamming bodies in mosh pits at all, but after having a boy around the house for the past eight years, I understand them a lot better.

She: Even he said it didn’t sound like that much fun.

Z: I still can’t believe you actually left before Offspring hit the stage.

She: Given the number of drunk, bruised guys I passed on the way out begging the security people to let them back in, I’m comfortable I made the right decision.

Z: I thought you’d at least hold out longer than the other old person, the guy with the bald spot and the ear plugs.

She: Speaking of old guys with bald spots, I was surprised that Dr. B stayed there as long as he did. He was there with his 17-year-old daughter, her boyfriend and another kid. Didn’t he think it was too violent?

Z: Seriously? Dr. B? He grew up with a couple of brothers. I’m sure he saw more action at family dinners. Honestly, I think he wanted to jump into the mosh pit himself.

She: I don’t think so.

Z: He told me the only thing that was holding him back was the cardio challenge. He didn’t think he could last more than a couple of laps around the pit without getting winded. That, and he didn’t want to inflame his plantar fasciitis.

She: Aww, that’s sweet. He just said that so I wouldn’t feel like the only old person.

Z: Yes, dear.

Share your mosh pit adventures with She and Z at leslie@lesliedinaberg.com.