Rick Still Rocks!

So, Sunday night was the Rick Springfield concert. I had been looking forward to it for months, having ordered my ticket the day they went on sale. I used what pitiful amount I got of my tax refund to pay for it, and while I was tempted to order the most expensive seats (which came with the meet & greet before the concert), I restrained myself and ordered the second-tier priced ticket instead.

I got to the Louisville Palace about 30 minutes before the show was supposed to start...and discovered that my seat was in the lower part of the FREAKING BALCONY. I was NOT HAPPY. Not only did I have to climb a zillion stairs, I wasn't going to be close enough to play with Rick if he came out into the audience like he usually does. Then it got worse. My seatmates turned out to be 3 drunk/yappy-happy bimbos with entirely too much perfume on. It was so bad that I had to use my inhaler twice. After the second shot, I went to the ushers and requested that they move either me or them. The lead usher came back with me to see for himself, choked on the one girl's scent, and quickly moved me to a seat on the other side of the balcony in a largely empty area.

The opening act (unusual for Rick- the shows I've seen previously were all Rick and nothing but) was Terri Nunn with Berlin. I have to say I was pleasantly impressed. Terri Nunn has held up beautifully since the early days of her career and looked fantastic. I loved the metallic blue dress and killer black booties she wore. She won the crowd over by praising the gorgeous theater (the Palace *IS* an awesome building) and talking about how friendly everyone was in Louisville as compared to L.A. She & the band performed their best known hits as well as some songs from their new album, which I may go look for.

Brief intermission, then Rick took the stage. Whooo-hooo! One of the best things about the Palace is that there isn't a bad seat in the house as far as hearing goes, and you can pretty well see everything, even if the band looks like ants from above. I'm just resentful that I paid that much money to be stuck in the balcony....yes, I'll be harping on that for a while...

Rick put on his usual awesome show. One song that surprised me was his cover of the Katy Perry song "Roar." I thought it was an okay song when she released it, but IREALLY liked Rick's version. I hope he puts it on an album someday.

So, it was all good until close to the end of the show. Then, during "Don't Talk To Strangers", 3 more drunk chicks who were sitting near me decided that it was wrong for me to be sitting alone, so they came over to dance with me. I got groped and ground on and was considering pitching one of them over the balcony when my usher friend came to my rescue and made them go back to their seats.

The concert ended and I fought my way out of the Palace...only to discover that the bottom had dropped out of the sky. I was parked 3 blocks away at the library and didn't have an umbrella. Bracing myself, I pushed my way through the crowd under the the portico, and started walking. I was soaked through in about 4 steps. LOL. I stopped at the Brown Hotel shelter for a minute to try to clear my glasses and one of the parking valets offered me a towel. He asked if I had just been at the concert and if I had far to go to get home. Yes, I said, and no. It's only about a 10 minute drive to my house, which was why I wasn't worried about being drenched. He laughed and told me to look behind me. I looked back at the theater and saw the huge bottleneck of people milling around, unwilling to get wet. A few brave souls had followed my lead, but it looked like most of the audience was clinging to shelter. "They'll probably still be standing there when you get home!"

My last 2 laughs of the night were both work-related, oddly enough. As I went on to my car, I passed one of our homeless regulars on the corner of 4th & Broadway. He stopped and stared at me, so I said hello to him and kept going. "Hey" he yelled after me. "You can share my tent if you need a place to stay tonight!" I thanked him and said I was ok, but it was kind of him to offer.

Then, just before I got to my car, an officer pulled up beside me. "Woman, don't you have enough sense to come in out of the rain?!?" It was my friend DJ. He asked if I needed a ride, so I pointed to my car, 4 yards away. He waited until I got in and got it started before pulling off, still laughing at me.

After all that, I needed comfort food, so I went home and had a batch of chicken & noodles. And a very long hot shower.

Hopefully I can stay dry when I go see Keb Mo next month!

Squeeee!

I almost forgot that the Rick Springfield concert is Sunday night! Something to look forward to this weekend!

Hey, Hey, They're the Monkees

June 6th was a good day. It had the potential to start off being a bad day- I started a migraine on the 3rd that I STILL have, but rapidly became better. My friends Susan & Linda and I had tickets to go see the Monkees Reunion concert at the Riverbend Pavilion in Cincinnati.

I was supposed to drive since the other girls had arranged for our tickets, but my vision was blurring and I wasn't sure I'd be able to. Susan said she didn't mind driving since she has a GPS, and Linda thought it would be easier to take her car since she has a handicapped plate, so we loaded up at 4:50 and off we went. We were supposed to leave at 4:30, but I got lost trying to find Susan's place. *eyeroll*

We got to the site with very little drama, other than cursing at the occasional moron drivers around us. Linda's plate scored us an excellent parking spot. We didn't stop for food on the way up because our tickets included a cook-out onsite. We should have stopped. What they had was your choice of soggy wieners, bratwurst, or mettwurst; served with potato chips, cole slaw, and/or limp looking macaroni salad. I choked down a bratwurst and chips, Susan & Linda were brave enough to try the salads with their dogs. Then we got to the kicker. The food was "free"...the drinks were not. $5.25 for a 20 oz Coke/Sprite and $5 for a 20 oz Dasani water. We forked out money for one drink apiece and spent half the show dying of thirst.

Anyway, once the show started, nothing else mattered. Peter, Mike, & Micky can still rock with the best of them. Much to my delight, Peter's song "Your Auntie Grizelda" was the second song they performed. It's a silly song, but I love it. They did most of the classics, and while they performed there was a giant video monitor behind them showing clips from the show & their movie HEAD, with Davy prominently featured. One of the last songs to be sung was Daydream Believer, with Micky singing lead in Davy's place...until he handed it over to the audience to sing. On the last repeat of the chorus, Peter screamed for us to sing louder so Davy could hear us and half the women in the audience (me included) started bawling while we sang.

We stopped at a Steak & Shake for dinner on the way home and half the place had been at the concert too. There was an adorable little boy in a Monkee Men suit (the superhero characters they used a few times in season 1)who was thrilled by the number of people who complimented him on his costume.

Anyway, I slept most of the ride home after dinner, and pretty much all day Saturday. The damned migraine is still with me, so I'm trying to get an appointment with my doctor to do something about it...

Time flies...

Suddenly it's the middle of April and I haven't posted anything.

The goals are coming along, albeit very slowly.

My friend Susan & I are going to the Monkees Reunion concert in Cincinnati in June. Then I'm going to see Rick Springfield when he comes here in July.

The weather is still bouncing around like a hackysack at a Phish concert. My sinuses are in full on revolt. I'm going to ask Dr B if they make an antibiotic and/or antihistamine pump, like they do with insulin & morphine, and if I can have one.

That's about it for now. More later...

Concert tales 4: Saliva

I like the band Saliva, despite their name. They're a good, hard rocking bunch, and I've seen them in concert several times. The most memorable was the year they played the KY State Fair with Z Z Top. I had debated going to the show- I didn't have anyone to go with, it wasn't one of the 'free' shows, and as I've mentioned before, crowds are not a good place for me to be. Fair traffic sucks, so I'd have my driving induced Tourette's syndrome to cope with as well. But then I realized it might be my last chance to see Z Z Top- let's face it, those dudes weren't/aren't getting any younger- and when I heard that Saliva (really? not what I would have expected but, ok) was the opening act, I was in. Bought a ticket for the nosebleed seats and went, hoping for the best.


The section I wound up in wasn't densely seated. I was glad I hadn't sprung for a floor seat- they were packed in like sardines. It was me and a few older, half drunk rednecks. Like the Garth show, I got some strange looks, but was left alone. Unlike the Garth show, no drunk Bubba decided to razz me.

Saliva came on and a handful of the younger crowd on the floor tried to rock out with them. The problem was, most of them were so far back, and there were so few of them, that the band couldn't tell they were there. The older fans who were there for the Top were just staring blankly at this rowdy metal-esque band on stage and wondering WHO they were and WHY THE HELL they were onstage. This included most of the people near me, who had gone from sideways looks to outright staring as I became a one woman mosh pit in my seat.

Midway through the show, as Josey Scott (the lead singer) tried to engage the crowd, there was a lighting malfunction. All the lights came up and the band could clearly see the less than thrilled crowd before them. The lights were hastily dimmed again, except for one area up in the nosebleed seats. Guess who basically had a spotlight? Yep.

What did I do? Lost my mind, stood up, and started dancing along with the song they segued into. The song ended, and Josey said, "Well, at least we've got one fan out there!" before pointing up at me. I blew him a kiss and then the lone dancing fool sat down. 


I was telling that story at work the next day. One of the beer deliverymen (I was working in a liquor store then) stopped in his tracks. "THAT WAS YOU?" He said his buddy had seen me dancing and pointed me out to him, but I was far enough away that he couldn't see my face. His friend was amazed that the one non-caucasian person they'd seen at the show was head banging. I don't know why, music is supposed to be universal, right?

Concert tales, part 3: Duran Duran

Christmas 2004- My mother bought me one of the best Christmas presents ever. Duran Duran announced the tour for their Astronaut album and they were coming to Louisville in 2005! Mom got me a 3rd row seat!



Oh, was I ready for this! 20+ years of fandom and I was FINALLY getting to see Simon Le Bon live and in person. 3rd Row? Whooohooooo!

Looking around the auditorium, I realized I was the only woman in the Old Queens with Young Boyfriends section. Not a problem. It might get me noticed. (it did- explanation coming up in a minute) I started chatting with some of my seatmates during the opening act and it was like we were all old friends by the time Simon & the boys hit the stage.

I shrieked, I danced, I sang, I hugged every gay man in Louisville. Then the band launched into "Save A Prayer." Simon said that in the old days, he used to look out and see a sea of cigarette lighters burning in the crowd when they did that song. "But since nobody smokes anymore, RIGHT? Just hold up your cell phones or whatever you've got that lights up." *I* was prepared & had a lighter.

The song ended and Simon was cracking up. "I saw real lighters! Not many, but there were some! Turn the lights on, I want to see the brave souls who had them!" OMG. The boys around me all screamed "Get that thing up in the air, girl!" and helped me stand on my seat so Simon would see me/us. And he did, after he'd pointed out a few on the other side and in the balcony. "BLOODY HELL, Love, are you THEIR date?!?" (seriously, I had six gay men holding me up)

Catch me lest I faint. SIMON BLOODY LeBON IS TALKING TO ME!!! The paralysis that hit when I met Rick Springfield was on vacation that night. I screamed back, "No, but I can be YOURS!" John Taylor started laughing. "Don't encourage him!" "WHY NOT?!?"

Sadly, I didn't get backstage after that show, and that was the last I got to speak to him, but that memory will live with me forever!

Concert Tales, part 2: Rick Springfield

As big a Rick Springfield fan as I am, I didn't get to see the man in concert until I was in my 30's. I found out he was coming to play at the casino close to my house, and I knew I was going one way or another. I got my ticket late, but I got one. I was in Row L, which turned out to be about halfway back in the ballroom where the show was staged, and I had a pretty good view.

I had suffered a rather serious knee injury a few months before the concert. (first of many) It was much better, but I wasn't going to be rushing the stage or anything like that. I still had a bit of a limp, and I decided that it might be a good idea to wear my knee brace. (yep)

Well, Rick hit the stage and the place exploded. I had worried that age might have slowed him down and the show might not be that exciting....and my worries were in vain. He bounced around that stage like a teenager on Red Bull, and put on a kick ass show...and like several other performers I've seen, he likes to interact with his fans. Teasing from the stage, inviting fans onstage, and jumping out into the audience...and wading through.

Yep. He made it back to Row K, in the middle, directly in front of me. And I froze. The man I had lusted after since I was 12 years old was less than 6 inches from me and I couldn't even reach out to touch him, I was in so much shock. The crowd was pressing in, and I felt my knee start to give, so I sat down and just gazed up at Rick...who suddenly looked down at me and smiled, before heading back toward the stage.

I thought that was the high point of my life. Not yet, it wasn't. The concert ended, and while a few people lingered in the hopes of an encore, or at least a final Rick sighting, most of the crowd rushed for the doors. I wan't in a hurry, and my knee hurt, so I stayed in my seat to let things thin out. Then I heard a voice say "Miss, are you ok?"

No, it wasn't Rick. It was a security guard. I explained about my knee and that I was waiting for the crowd to thin out and he said, "Oh, that makes sense. Come with me and I'll take you out the back way. No crowd at all." Before I knew what was happening, I was being escorted BACKSTAGE. I saw several members of the band milling about and then I heard "Oh, good, you found her!"

THAT was Rick. He told me he got a little worried when he saw me sit down so suddenly (HE NOTICED ME?!?), so when someone mentioned a girl sitting alone in the middle of the theater, he asked them to go check on me. I think I managed to carry on a reasonably intelligent conversation with him for the minute or two that I got with him. Once he knew I was ok, he had to rush off, but I got a hug and kiss before he left.

I've seen him several times since then. I've always managed to get in sections where he comes into the crowd, only now I reach out like all the rest. And he almost always grabs my hand, grins at me & says hi. He played at the KY State Fair and one of my officer friends got me backstage long enough for a hug and a hi.

Up next...my other long term crush!

Concert tales, part 1: Garth Brooks & Michael Bolton

So, back in the early 90's, my then-best friend (who for the remainder of the story will be referred to as Susan) &; I spent a lot of time hanging out on the pro-wrestling circuit. (more on that another time)At the time, most shows were sponsored by the country radio stations in whatever city the guys were performing in, so of course country is what got played before shows & during intermission. I hated country music....well most of it. But then they started playing this song that never failed to crack us up when we heard it.

"Blame it all on my roots, I showed up in boots...."

Oh yeah. it didn't take us long to learn the words, and we never failed to sing along (loudly and usually off-key) whenver we heard it. In fact, we made a point of finding out who the singer was (Garth Brooks and if you didn't guess that between the lyrics and the title of this post, shame on you)  and buying his cassette tape. (like said, this was back in the Dark Ages- LOL) At first we only listened to that song, over and over. Then we got curious and listened to the rest of the album. And then we bought his next album.

Then, oh glory be, he released his concert schedule...we lived in Chapel Hill NC at the time, and lo & behold....he was coming to our town! We HAD to go, right? Right. Bought our tickets, told everyone we knew that we were going, and couldn't contain our excitement as the date drew nearer. Others did not share our euphoria. As you may be aware, (or possibly not, I'm not sure if it's come up in blog posts before) I am 6 ft of robustly curvy auburn haired biracial Amazonian goodness. While I get mistaken for Hispanic, Samoan, and other ethnicities, I can in no way be mistaken for white. Susan was an about 5'8, even more robustly curvy, darker skinned black girl. Her mother & extended family thought we were nuts. My family, when told our plans, just said "That's nice." Her family thought we were going into redneck hell and about to be lynched. (they should have seen some of the wrestling ahows we went to- we were in more danger there)

Off we went to the concert. I'm bouncing up and down in glee. Susan, whose mother had sent us off with an earful of dire predictions, was looking around the crowd, nervously. "Mickey," she finally whispered, "I think we're the only niggers here."

"So?"

"Maybe this wasn't a good idea. I think we should go home."

"We paid a lot of money for these tickets. I AM NOT GOING ANYWHERE. I won't bother anyone as long as they don't bother me." (One of my life rules, as grammatically incorrect as it may be is "Don't start none, won't be none.")

She reluctantly agreed we should stay, and I promised we'd go if any trouble started. We got some odd looks from other concert goers, but nobody was hostile...at first. After the opening act (Martina McBride on her first tour) ended, a drunk guy about 2 rows up turned around for some reason, saw us, and commenced to talking a whole pile of crap about "what niggers are doing here" and so on. Susan, who knew my temper, grabbed my arm and said "Ok, you promised, let's go."

Before I could say a word, the VERY large man behind us stood up. This guy was probably about 6'6, built like a linebacker, wearing a confedrate flag shirt, and even I was a little nervous when he first came in. He reached down, snatched the mouthy drunk out of his seat, lifted him to his eye level and growled "Those girls ain't bothering nobody. Now siddown and SHUT UP before I send you to the front row the hard way." (We were just below the nosebleed section) Not another peep was heard the rest of the show. I offered to buy the nice man a drink and he laughingly declined but bought US drinks and said if we were cool enough to be there, he was glad to meet us. He also walked us out at the end of the night just in case Drunk Boy loitered with intent. (He didn't)

The concert was great, BTW. Garth puts on a hell of a show. I've seen him several times since then.


The other concert Susan talked me into was Michael Bolton. I know I've mentioned my eclectic musical tastes. Susan didn't listen to quite the same range, but had some varied taste. Our birthdays were only a few days apart, and MB was playing in Raleigh the week before them. My mother bought the tickets for us as a present. Now, it may not be cool to be a Bolton fan, but I have to admit I like some of his early work. This was the Time, Love, & Tenderness tour.

So we went and were probably the youngest women in the section we had seats in. The place was a sea of estrogen. Bolton came on and put on a very entertaining show. then there was an intermission. as the break ended, music started and Michael could be heard singing...but wasn't onstage. Then all hell broke loose. He had a cordless mike and was walking through the crowd. The audience finally figured it out...right about the time he got to our section. 5 million middle aged women lost their minds and tried to cram themselves collectively into 3 rows of seats. MB realized he wasn't going anywhere anytime soon and climbed up on a chair to finish the song. "Georgia on my Mind", if you were wondering. The man was about 6 inches away from us. Sue was swooning.

I, on the other hand, was getting punchy becasue of the crowd pressing in on us. Throwing my hands in the air, I screamed at my friend "WHY did I let you talk me into this?!?" Wouldn't you know, Michael Bolton thought I was reaching out to him, so he grabbed my hand and held it through the rest of the song. Arrgh. Sue was pissed that it was me and not her.

What I didn't know was that a photograhper from the local paper was there and captured that stunning moment on film. I found that out the next day when several of my 'hipster' friends called me in hysterics, laughing because I was on the front page of the entertainment section holding hands with Michael Bolton. My mother called later to tell me that not only had she & Dad seen it, one of Dad's coworkers came up to him with a copy of the article and said " Is that your daughter?" My dear old Dad, without batting an eye, said "Does she have clothes on?" (another story to be explained later)

You can't take me anywhere.....