| I'm writing an entry today before I pay bills, so I can get used to writing "January 2, 2001". 2001. 2001. I will screw it up, I know it. It usually takes me until March of any given year to get the date right on checks. I should start paying bills on-line. I really should. So. The concert. Kicked Ass. I could just leave it at that, but Dawn is looking for details and might mutiny. Sunday was a productive day for me. I un-decorated the tree and the house, wrote an entry, cleaned the kitchen, and did laundry. I took a shower around 4:00 while Calvin made steaks on the grill. (Aside: we've been making him cook a lot. He's been protesting a lot. But nobody can grill like my baby can!) I was ready before everyone else, and so went to feed ex-boss' cat. When I returned Calvin was decked out in dress khaki's, a deep green shirt, a vest, and a tie. He looked very svelte, and made me feel like I should have worn a dress (I was, as usual, in jeans). We hopped in the truck and blared some CPR (Concert Psyching Rock). We arrived downtown with a half hour to spare, and paid $10 to park right next to the arena (as opposed to $5 to park fifty feet further down the street). The parking attendant was very nice, polite, and cheerful. As opposed to the usually terse, grumpy, unkempt version we are used to getting. It was brisk, and I wasn't wearing a coat because I knew full well I wouldn't want to carry it once we got inside. Michael and Marie were in high spirits, and Calvin was making his usual "gotta get there *now*" pace through the parking lot to the arena entrance. So I hustled, and we moo'ed our way through the turnstiles. We had floor seats, direct center, about halfway back. It gave us a great view of the stage for the entire evening, even when folks were standing up. When we arrived they were playing The Beetles on the sound system. Okay, so The Beetles aren't bad, but I can only hack them one song at a time. They must've had their new compilation CD playing or something. Yack. Just because the headlining bands were popular in the 70's and 80's doesn't mean the audience wouldn't appreciate some Metallica or something. Michael was dying, and suffered eyestrain from all the eye-rolling he indulged in. Calvin went off with a "Hey, they're serving beer!", and Marie went with him. Michael and I hung out looking at the crowd. An adult crowd, mostly thirty and forty-somethings. Michael mourned the lack of "hotties" his age. I had to laugh when a contingency of 80's style big-hair rocker wannabe's sat near us. Four men, in their late thirties, sporting teased, hairsprayed, fluffy long hair. Tight jeans and tight knit t-shirts covering bodies they must fondly have believed were still in the same condition they were in the 80's. Not gross or overweight, just soft. It was the same with some of the women, too. Michael was derisive of those who "dressed like they dressed when they looked good". Forty year old women in tight leather pants and mini-skirts, big hair, cakey make-up. Pot bellies. Bra-less, saggy breasts. Eee-yew. I don't mean to be negative, but really, you've got to know some of these folks looked in the mirror before they left and *believed* they could pull it off. Or maybe they should be applauded for their bravery. Or something. Calvin and Marie returned, and Calvin handed me a beer. I guzzled it, wanting to get a partying buzz going. Plus, I was still cold and didn't want to stand around holding a cold beer. Some yuk-yuk from the local rock station appeared on stage briefly to get the crowd going a bit. The four of us milled around by our seats, conversing and horsing around. Then the house lights blinked out, and the stage lights cranked up. The crowd jumped up and roared, and the band members of REO Speedwagon took the stage. Kevin Cronin's voice still works, I must say that. He was trippy and energetic through the whole thing, though he must be somewhere in his 50's. Just goes to show that age doesn't mean a damn thing, if you've got spirit. Bruce Hall, the bassist, had the fluffy 80's hair thing going on, but he was allowed to because he was on stage. They opened with "Don't Let Him Go" and closed with "Ridin' The Storm Out", and played all their hits in between. A lady down the isle from us was freaking out over them, dancing and doing hand-motions like a Pointer Sister, and screaming out the lyrics. Plus keeping a written tally of the playlist. Lighters were out in full force during "Keep On Loving You" and "Can't Fight This Feeling". Marie and Michael just kind of sat with blank looks on their faces, not being terribly familiar with REO. Calvin and I stood and swayed, he mouthing the lyrics, me singing at the top of my lungs. They finished their set at about 10:00, after playing for a good hour and a half. Marie and I hustled for a pee break, and of course the line at the bathroom was a mile long. Michael and Calvin went off in search of an ATM and more beverages. Marie and I returned to the seats first, and did some more crowd watching. We observed the nets of balloons suspended from the rafters. Michael and Calvin returned with another (bigger) beer for me, which I again guzzled. Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug! Calvin was about three sips into his when he asked me "Where's your beer?" I pointed to the empty cup under my chair, and he raised his eyebrows at me. Urp. The intermission lasted for about twenty minutes, while the stage guys changed things around for Journey. We didn't really even have time to get impatient before the house lights blinked out again. The roar from the audience was three times louder. REO Speedwagon was no slouch, but Journey kicked ass. The kids perked up, this being the band they were really there to see. They opened with "Separate Ways", which is one of my favorites. Hell, just about all of them are my favorites. The light show was great. Calvin called my attention to the back wall of the auditorium. The spotlight behind the drummer was casting his grooving, thrashing shadow - gargantuan - against the wall. Cool. Smoke in the air swirled in the beams of light, changing from red to yellow to blue to green as the lights flickered with the music. Steve Augeri's voice is a more powerful mirror image of Steve Perry's. Marie called it right when she predicted he'd be wearing a red silk shirt and red leather pants, just like he did the previous two times we've seen 'em. Jonathan Cain played like a mother on his red piano. They played a couple of new songs from their upcoming album "Arrival", and from the sounds of it it's going to be a good one. Those were the opportunities I took to relieve myself of my guzzled beer. Three times, to be exact. Yeesh. During one trip, a fellow line-waiter commented "Hey, this will be the last one of the year 2000! Enjoy it!" Um, okay. The crowd really got into all their hits. The band would stop periodically while the audience sang the choruses to "Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin'" (naa naa na naa na na), "Any Way You Want It", "Lights", and "Open Arms". I love that. There's just something so cool about thousands of people knowing and singing the words to the same song. Must give the band members a rush. The band was keeping an eye on the time, and at about a minute to midnight REO joined Journey on the stage. They counted down (singing) the last ten seconds... HAPPY NEW YEAR!!! The crowd freaked out, the bands freaked out, and the balloons descended, with confetti, from the ceiling. I kissed Calvin, hugged Marie and Michael, kissed Calvin again, and watched the confetti stream through the stage lights. Folks were grabbing and popping balloons everywhere - the noise was incredible. Calvin claimed that it was like being inside a popcorn popper. REO and Journey sang Auld Lang Syne together, though I suspect one or the other of the lead singers didn't know the words. Then they cranked the music back up again, and played for another half hour or so. They closed with "Faithfully" (again, lighters everywhere). The piano intro was beautiful. Steve Augeri kept singing the final "whoa oh ohh ohh oh's" along with the audience as the rest of the band stopped playing and left the stage. It was just Steve and the audience, singing together. Then Steve left the stage, encouraging the audience to continue singing, which it did until we lost sight of him. Ooohhh... Very, very cool. Goosebumpy cool. And a very long concert. Four hours of me singing at the top of my lungs. My throat is still strained. We got back out to the truck with a minimum of crowd difficulty. We played a Journey CD on the way home, and Michael and Marie bickered: "They didn't play this song." "Yes they did." "No, they didn't." "Yes, they did." We dropped Michael off at home so he could get his car and meet some friends for New Year's festivities. Calvin, Marie and I continued on to Denny's with thoughts of a late night/early morning breakfast. We stood around for about ten minutes, two couples ahead of us, fifty people (only a slight exaggeration) coming in behind us. Notification of a skeleton server crew and food taking a half hour to come out convinced us to leave again. We headed over to Perkins, also open 24 hours, and much less busy. I was in dire need of coffee by this time, to ease my aching throat and sagging energy. The waitress was a perky sixty-ish woman who kept calling Calvin and I "hon" and Marie "my little girl". She left a carafe (thank God) of hot coffee at our table "fresh brewed just for you". Calvin indulged in some corned beef hash, eggs, and hash browns. Marie had a turkey club sandwich (after agonizing over the chicken and cheese quesadilla - "Which one has more fat?" she asks... like she needs to worry, twiggy kid). I myself had pigs in a blanket, which I haven't had in ages. Buttermilk pancakes wrapped around sausage links and smothered in buttery, maple syrupy goodness... Urp. We finally got home and into bed a little after 3:00 a.m. I had the most *messed up* dreams that night. First I dreamed that I was Marie's age, and she and I were running away from home. We were fleeing Calvin, who was also a combination of Bruce Willis, in a little rowboat on the ocean. We were headed for an island or something, I think. Calvin/Bruce gave chase in a bigger powered boat (fishing trolley?) and pulled us aboard. I kept asking him if he loved me less because I ran away. Then I dreamed I was a bridesmaid in a wedding consisting of the cast of Beverly Hills 90210. I lost/didn't have my bridesmaid dress, and so ended up wearing this red number with a vaulted collar like Cruella DeVille. Then it changed again, and Marie and I were in the Suburban driving along the San Andreas Fault. There was a major earthquake, and we could see the ground rolling and opening up in front of us. We weren't frightened, just fascinated. When it stopped, I called Calvin on the cell phone to make sure he was alright. Then Marie wanted to drive to her best friend's house to make sure she was alright. Somehow the San Andreas Fault was in Arizona, I guess. Weird shit. That's the *last* time I eat pigs in a blanket at 2:00 a.m. |