The Arrival (part one...)

So here is what happened last night in Chicago, part one...

Our plane landed about 3pm. I had received an email that we* could pick up our tickets at 6pm.  These were special tickets we got through the Stones fan app. The deal was that for $85, you get two random seats, to be determined the day of the show.  This was a steal considering that Ticketmaster face prices ranged from $250-$600+.

It has also been a constant source of anxiety for me over the past 2 months, not knowing where we would be sitting.  Because of some fan board sleuthing and wishful thinking, I thought I had a real shot at getting into the "tongue pit".  I can't even begin to explain what that is, so check the picture.  (I will say that I have been banned from saying those two words in front of my children, under any circumstances whatsoever!)

*We = me and my very dear old friend, Jenny.  When I say "old", I mean we've been friends for a long time and have had many adventures together.  While some have included rock stars, others range from naked guys in Coney Island to birthing. Use your imagination.  Jenny has been willingly dragged along to previous concerts with me, so she knows what she's in for.

We get off the plane and take the train down to United Center. We go to a special table at Will Call, get a wrist band and are handed an envelope from a stack of random, unmarked white envelopes. These will be our Golden Tickets. I don't want to look inside, but I do want to look inside. I open the corner and peek.  I see section 331 and my heart thuds to a standstill.  331 means 3rd level seating, commonly referred to as the "nosebleed" seats.  I am seriously crushed.  My tongue pit dreams are over, just like that.  I spend a few minutes scheming for some way to call a "do over" but there is none.  I'm reminded of the sing-song phrase I've been using on my kids for years, "You get what you get and you don't have a fit."  I promise right then and there that I will NEVER say that again.

And then I proceed to have a fit, pretty much for the next hour until the arena opens and we can get a first hand look at where our seats are.  In reality, they're not bad.  They're on Keith's side of the stage, which is WAY important.  They're right off the side so we can have a perfect view into the backstage area.  This could be cool.  I'm starting to get over my crappy attitude and get excited again.  This attitude adjustment is helped along by a plastic glass full of snack bar wine.  Go Bulls. Or hockey guys. Whatever...

(Is your curiosity peaked yet?  Welp, sorry but I gotta go to sleep now.  Will all my groupie dreams come true?  Or will there be head lice involved?  You'll have to check back laters.  But here's a photo of how I pulled myself together for this special night.  Considering the average demographic was probably 55+ with Accountant Lady hair, I *might* stand a chance!)

One. More. Day.

Tomorrow night!!!!  I will be in Chicago to see the Rolling Stones.  I've tried many times to put into words why I love, love, love this band and it just doesn't come out right.  But I do, and I have since I was about 14 years old.

Without going all armchair psychologist, I guess you could sum it up by saying that in and out of the usual drama of teenage'ism, and also during bouts of not-so-usual drama later in life, the Stones have been a consistent source of escapism and joy for me.  I've run the gamut from listening to collecting to downright obsessing (that would be Keith Richards...a whole separate layer of psychoanalysis.)

So here I am, on another side of life that's nothing but good, and I love 'em just as much.  This will be something like my 13th show since first seeing them in Ames, IA in 1989.  Yep, that was before Stub Hub, Craig's List and I guess the whole dang internet, come to think of it.  I bought tickets out of the "want ads" in the newspaper.  They arrived by mail a few weeks prior to the show and me and Eric road-tripped it down 35W.

I will never forget the feeling of entering the huge stadium, not knowing where my seats were, and being escorted further and further towards the massive stage.  As each security guard checked our tickets and waved us forward, my adrenaline surged. We ended up in the 6th row, on Keith's side.  Again, words can't express the emotional state I was in...for the entire concert.  It was amazing, with a capital "F".  

At this point, family and friends have come to accept, if not understand, my passion. As I grow older, it's no longer cool, but it's my roots - a core part of me that's survived and celebrated, and I look forward to letting loose one more time tomorrow night.  Stay tuned!

Meeting Keith

I guess "obsessed" would be the right word to describe how I felt about Keith Richards since I was 13 years old. No one has made such an impression on me and it's stuck for all of these years...I'm 45 now.

Anyway, many years back Keith was on tour with the Xpensive Winos. They were playing a show in St. Paul and I had excellent tickets, front row center. All day long at work, I could barely sit at my desk in anticipation. I had a feeling that Keith would be staying at a hotel a few blocks from my office. Right after lunch, my "inner voice" told me to get up and go! I left work and headed to the Whitney Hotel.

When I got there, the place was dead. There was no one in the lobby, nothing going on. I took a seat and just waited. After about 15 minutes, some cool looking dudes began to show up. One was Ivan Neville. He was very polite and started talking to me. I showed him this cheesy Rolling Stones fan club card that I had always carried with me, in hopes that one day I'd run into Keith and he would sign it. Ivan thought that was hilarious and told me that I should hang around because Keith would be coming down to go to sound check. He introduced me to several others in their entourage and wished me luck. Some red vans pulled up and they were off.

I was feeling pretty cool just getting to meet the band. I waited a few more minutes and got up to leave. Once again, there was no one in the lobby but me. It was kind of odd - no employees, guests, anyone. Then out of nowhere, Keith comes down this spiral staircase into the lobby. He's all by himself in a long black coat, scarves, mirrored sun glasses. He stands in the lobby and I realize it's just me and him. I had this strange sense of watching the scene from outside of my body. I sort of went on autopilot and observed myself walking up to him. All of a sudden, I came back to reality and had this freak out moment of "WHAT are you doing? What are you going to say to him?"

Somehow, I kept myself together and just said, "Hi, I'm Chris." We had a completely normal conversation about Charlie Watts who was rumored at that time to be leaving the Stones. Keith said, "Ain't that a bitch. I'll work it out." He called me, "Luv" and "Dahling" and asked if I had tickets to the show. We walked out to the van, he said, "See ya at the show, luv," and then he was gone.

I was mesmerized by how exquisitely cool he really was - pretty much exactly as I had thought he would be. EXCEPT, he smelled GREAT! When you imagine Keith, you would assume he smelled like cigarettes and booze, but nope, he smelled like some combination of expensive perfume with maybe a little incense mixed in.

Anyway, as I walked back to work and played the scene over in my head a thousand times, I realized that I missed my opportunity to get my fan club card signed and that I really had no proof of having met him. No one back at the office would believe me!

Ahhh, but then I noticed that my hand smelled exactly like him! When I got back to work, I excitedly told my story and ended it with the demand to, "Smell my hand!" Most of my friends gave me the benefit of the doubt.

That night at the concert, I arrived early and happened to see Ivan hanging out by the stage. He recognized me and asked if I had met Keith and got my card signed. I told him what happened and that I missed my chance. He said, "No way...give me the card, I'll be right back." I handed it over and he disappeared. It was getting close to show time and I thought I'd never see him or my card again. Oh well, the fate of the card was pretty cool anyway and a good ending to my encounter. I took my seat in anticipation of a great show.

A few minutes before the lights went down, Ivan showed up and handed me the card back, with a great autograph from Keith. The concert was one of the best I've ever been to and I have many photos of Ivan and Keith posing at the edge of the stage. And a great memory of having met my "idol".

Man, that was a LONG time ago! How did we all get so old?