TEARS FOR FEARS

Alas, today was MY day.

Mine, all MINE...

I couldn’t believe it.

I STILL couldn’t believe it.

After the birth of Mikayla and my resignation date at Fidelity, I can’t recall a day I truly looked forward to. I finally rejoined and embraced my best friend from 3^rd grade, spent quality time with my wonderful pen pals again (17 years and going on strong!), and embarked on a journey to simply let loose and have some pure fun. With much gusto and anticipation, I will be seeing my #1 band perform in my favorite country.

[I was prepared for this event. I packed my Sharpie pen (a trick I learned from Chie), my ELAHE album sleeve, a fully charged camera battery, and two jars filled with origami turtles, stars, tetrahedrons and cranes. I specifically grouped the items together ensuring myself minimal stress, if at all possible on this fateful day. ]

So we headed out of the door and I was trying to contain my excitement. Life couldn’t be better.

Or could it?

On the highway, we came to a complete stop on the M6 to Birmingham. Uh-oh…

Oh no.

Shee-it. There was an accident with a lorry causing traffic to be stretched for miles from Birmingham all the way to Tamworth.

People were getting out of their cars and rearranging their trunks. Oy.

My stomach was churning like butter. I looked at the dashboard clock: 5:40PM.

I contained my anxiety by thumbing through England’s notorious celebrity magazine. With naked women displayed prominently on Page 2, its newsworthiness was that of a bumblebee. It had an entire spread on Kylie’s probable facelift by comparing her current picture to the one dated 1986. Did it ever occur to the general population the picture on the right was taken nearly 20 years ago when she was a lanky teenager? It’s amazing how finely tweezed eyebrows can be construed as an eye lift.

Speed Demon Richard proclaimed that he had never been stuck in traffic in his entire driving career and whipped out his camera and to take a photo. Arse. He decided to point the gizmo right up my face which I lovingly gestured my middle finger in front of the lens. Irritant. He even joked about missing the meet & greet and the concert altogether. I, obviously, did NOT find it hilarious. My initial reaction was to shove my fist into his face, but thought twice about it. After all, we needed him to drive us back to Tamworth, so I took a deep breath and smacked him in the back of the head instead. There, all better.

Ultimately, the traffic moved and speed demon made his way into Brum. BUT, we weren’t headed to the NIA Academy just yet…we needed to make a pit stop over his house to pick up the concerts tickets. Why? Methinks he brought over was to show his family he actually had overseas friends to hang out with. He introduced us to his family (met his sister and dad back in Jan ’05 when they came to visit here) and deliberately skipped this guy sitting in his living room. Ching and I thought he was the plumber or something 'cuz Richard's redoing his bath.

Turns out the dude was his half-brother (who is half-white, half-black, erm) and the family wasn’t on good terms with him. His mother was this short, dumpy, and rather large woman whose deeply reddened complexion could flag down an airplane if she worked as an airport ground crew. She reminded me specifically of Jingbah, a pink Boohbah Mikayla used to watch on PBS. Ugh!!

We left the house to grab a quickie bite of fish & chips and took our huge orders of food away. I asked him where we could park our asses to eat and his response? We’d be walking AND eating.

Are you kidding me? First, I was stuck in traffic which nearly gave me a heart attack; second, we headed over to his house to meet the fam and now this? I can’t eat with my hands without looking like a 6 month old baby chewing its first Zwieback! He shook his head when I insisted that he shows us how to eat food while walking around the neighborhood. Is this why he thinks I’m obnoxious?

[Per Sarah, this style of eating is referred to as “Commoner’s Way”. She dislikes the method because it promotes greater loss in getting dates with your fingers and face all greased up. Blearghh]

To kill time, we had a nice walk around the NIA Academy with food in hand. I skipped the chips (steak fries) because I was getting a tad bit sick of eating them. I wolfed down my scalding fish and tossed the rest of it away – hate wasting food ‘cuz it’ll kill my karma.

So by 7PM, arrived at the box office but the guest list hadn’t arrived yet. UGH! A miserable scalper (called scouts in the UK) was hawking everyone who went in to purchase tickets for the show. Bloke looked like he could use a keg of ale. There were still a number of good seats still available since the cashier kept offering Block B which was the center stage on the floor.

Poor Ching and Richard basically waited around for me and I felt bad ‘cuz there wasn’t anything I could do. As always, Ching put the perspective in a different angle: Well, you waited around me yesterday at Stratford-Upon-Avon and Warwick Castle, so this is your day, we’ll wait for you. Around quarter to 8, the guest list arrived and I received an envelope with a VIP sticker pass. WAHOOO!!

As we entered the venue, Ching gets stopped because of her chunka munka camera. Rats. Fortunately, I was able to sneak in my little digital camera because I hid it inside my makeup bag while the goofy-looking steward was busy asking me where I was from to notice it. We split off because Ching needed to put the camera away in the car and I was supposedly off to the M&G. We agreed to meet up back at our seats.

Well, it turns out that none of the venue stewards heard about the M&G and I swear, I asked about 3 people before I found someone who could tell me something substantial. The M&G was presumed to take place after the concert, but no one was sure where. Oh great. Again, I continued to interrogate every other steward like some effing pain in the ass.

FINALLY – after being referred from body to body, I spoke to a senior manager who advised me to wait until the show was over, come ‘round to the side of the stage, and wait for an available steward to lead me towards the backstage door. Oh gawd. How simple was that?! You mean to tell me that over 75% of the staff couldn’t produce a resourceful answer for my inquiry?! Was it THAT farfetched??!

When I reached to my assigned seat, Ching and Richard hadn’t arrived yet. A bearded chap sat beside me and muttered something about TFF in a thick Birmingham accent. 'Cuz I couldn't understand him, I smiled and nodded away while observing the audience. Holy guacamole! Everyone appeared as though they had just gotten off of work in their business casual outfits! It was a more subdued and older crowd (compared to the NY show) with waves of beer bottles being passed back and forth. I also realized that Ching and I were probably the ONLY Asians present in this concert.

Everyone assumed the M&G took place prior to the show, but not at B’ham. I told them about my ordeal of fishing around info like some addict who desperately needed a fix. Richard piped up and informed me that the Brits aren’t always the brightest light on the Christmas tree and hardly pursue anything beyond a ‘no’ or ‘I don’t know’. He noticed that Americans prefer to get down to the nitty gritty and are more determined seek out the answer than to accept the circumstances as is. Phew!

While Richard ran off to get some alcohol, I asked to switch seats since the guy in front of me was over 6 feet tall. Again, like the NYC show, I was seated in the middle with a girl on the left and a guy on the right. So, the show opens up with Gled Hill who was actually pretty good. After attending a slew of Carson Daly show tapings, I have come to discover the overabundance of lousy hard rock/metal/punk bands with screechy skinny lead singers.

Once I heard the studio track for “Famous Last Words”, my heart melted.

Here’s my review of the concert: http://www.curtsmithzerodisc.com/gigreviews/brum0425.html

My review is the first one placed on top of the webpage dated May 8th. (Yeehaw!)

Without a doubt, the concert was MAGNIFICENT. These guys really know how to put on an excellent performance and they do NOT disappoint. This is my 2^nd concert attendance and I’m planning to up the score as much as I can. It has always been a lifelong dream to merely see them in concert as a kid, but with strict parents and no money of my own, the probability was nil. Now, I’m finally living my girlhood dream of seeing them performing live, in the flesh.

[The first time I saw them live at the Carson Daly show taping, I was absolutely awestruck. My jaw hit the floor when I saw Curt and Roland with their guitars smiling and pacing around the stage. With Chie going, “OH MY GAWD, IT’S THEM! THEY’RE REALLY HERE! THEY’RE BACK TOGETHER AGAIN! CURT LOOKS HOT! ROLAND LOOKS AWESOME!!! OMG! OMG! OMG!!!!” – you better believe it added more fuel to the fire. I also have to thank Chie for being so supportive. If it wasn’t for her keeping me apprised of their reunion, I doubt very much I would be doing any of this.]

At the concert, I was rocking, dancing, and hollering my tush off. I also noticed how everyone around me basically stood at their seats and stared at the stage (hypnotized?). I didn’t give a rat’s ass about what anyone thought about me and heck, I didn’t fly my butt out from the States to pose as a tombstone. I sorta wished I hadn’t switch seats because the chap beside Richard REALLY enjoyed the concert by dancing, singing and saluting the band during “Break It Down Again”. The bloke was a hilarious riot! Or was it the beer?

Okay, for those of you who received my online album invite, there’s an awful picture of me with my arms up in the air that says, “Me doing a rendition of ‘Everybody Wants to Rule the World’ Email me and I will explain this”. Okay, here’s the 411:

During the chorus of EWTRW, the audience had gotten involved with the song and began raising their arms to clap. Well, um, *HACK*, *cough*, Richard caught on to the song and raised his arms as well. With one swift movement of his arm, a slight gust of BO wind blasted by me.

* spasmodic cough followed by a crowing intake of breath *

Green as I was, I immediately turned to Ching and huddled over to her regarding Richard’s blasted whiff. I had gotten her convulsing with laughter that she nearly fell out of her seat. Seeing her all over the floor made me choke on my Smirnoff Ice - which almost created a nasal emission. We laughed for so long and hard that I hadn’t noticed the song was over! Going forward, I can never see my favorite song in the same light again.

*Sigh*

So, if you see any references to EWTRW, it’s all based on Richard’s undoing. OY!!!!

[Ching sat through most of the concert because she and I have adopted to a specific philosophy regarding rest…if we could reserve our energy or get some sleep, we’d have to grab as much as we can, especially on this trip. So, she sat upright on the edge of her seat until a familiar song came along. She found it to be rather absurd to stand and watch when you could it sitting down. Unless everyone was bopping away, then the outcome would be dramatically different.]

At the end of the show, we agreed to meet up at the box office in about an hour or so while I go off backstage. I was a tad bit concerned with being separated, but ahh, I’m a big girl. The worst case scenario is to get a cab from Brum to Tamworth.

Yet again, I faced another obstacle with the stewards: Sorry, but you can’t go in just yet. You’ll just have to wait. Argghhh…

So I waited around and then saw a whole parade of people marching in with similar VIP badges. I got on the same line and walked right in. Evidently, I followed the entire Smith clan into the backstage with Curt’s wife carrying their youngest daughter in her arms. Curt’s brothers had also attended the concert with their children and I felt awkward hanging out there (big-time DUH!). I had no clue what to do, where to go and how to act. It was so weirdly normal with kids running up and down the halls screaming at each other. This obviously wasn't a M&G, but a friends & family hangout.

I spotted Curt sitting on top of the table outside of the dressing room and walked over to him. I introduced myself hoarsely (all that screaming & laughing) and presented him my little origami gift. With a surprised look on his face, he asked me how long it took to make them. He made a point about how much work was put into making them and thanked me for my thoughtfulness. He told me that Wilder would probably take off with them since this would be something she’d like. I might’ve blushed because I was started to sweat like a pig.

He seemed a bit out of breath and apologized for being knackered because he only had about 4 hours of sleep. He asked me if I was from Birmingham…??? WTF??! Talk about being tired!! I told him to guess my accent because his question was way too funny – really! I sheepishly asked if he could sign my ELAHE cover sleeve and he did it in a heartbeat. He asked me for my name and the spelling. Although I said it didn’t matter, he said it did for him - AWWW! Curt was extremely down-to-earth, virtuous and cool. I probably walked by him a thousand times in the West Village without ever knowing it.

I spoke about my attendance at the NYC show and he was explaining how awesome the audience was; whereas he couldn’t tell if the B’ham audience enjoyed tonight’s show or not. We chatted a little more and he went after his girls while I headed into the dressing room. When I saw Roland standing, I gaped at him like a dang fool. I don’t know what it is about him, but he exudes a kind of charisma which is difficult for me to explain. There’s something about him…uh, um, Heather, care to elaborate?

From here on, I didn’t recall much. Everything was moving with such viscosity my system was ready to break down. There were no fans, no one who I could chummy up and get autographs, and I was feeling exponentially gawky. I somehow made my way over to Doug and Charlton and asked for their autographs as well. It was an easy way to break the ice as Doug was nice enough to chat with me like a real person. He asked me if I was fan from the early days and I replied, “Yes, so you can pretty much guess my age too.” When Charlton and Doug heard that I was from NYC we started to converse about everything and anything related to babies, sunny California and their former homes in the city. Like Curt, once a New Yawker, always a New Yawker.

Then I make my way over to Roland to hand over the final gift. Like Curt, he praised my efforts and asked me how much time was spent making them for him (you really don’t wanna know). I noticed that he observed them a bit before setting them down. He gave me a hug and a kiss (Europeans give two pecks on the cheek) with me acting like a flustered schoolgirl with an IQ of a toad. I had no idea he’d have that kind of effect on me! I couldn’t carry on a conversation like I did with Curt and came off like a rambling goober. The only thing I remembered telling him was how my 5-year-old Mikayla adores him and wished she could be here tonight. He replies by saying that she’s got such wonderful, fabulous taste; while in an earlier conversation, Curt tells me that she has terrible, terrible taste (and something needs to be done!)! I honestly don’t know what happened to me at that point - I’ve never been in a situation where I’ve been knocked breathless because of someone’s aura?!

So I hung around a bit more because I really, really, really wanted to take a picture with Curt. Because he’s my favorite TFF member, I wanted to paint a 10x10 mural of him on my living room wall. Just kidding, I’m not THAT crazy, but you do get the drift. Then Curt chatted up some more about his house in Rochester, his former apartment on Mercer St, introduced his immediate family members, etc. He put me completely at ease and I chanced a moment to ask him if it was okay to take a picture with me. He agreed and I seated myself on the armrest of the sofa while he tried to prop himself up on the couch. I didn’t want to sit on the couch because of his girls…fearing that they’d be caught on camera and I would have to chuck out my precious photo! I didn’t know if it was okay to hug or touch R&C or not…I must be a typical NY’er…giving everybody their personal space.

I was guzzling down bottles of Penta water and it even caught Curt’s eye. Water is water…what’s the big deal? Penta advertises how the water’s molecular structure has been altered to provide the drinker with a higher level of “bio-hydration”. Whatever. I also became quite popular in the area as other people requested for autographs and no one brought pens with them. With my handy dandy Sharpie, I was being led from one guy to the next for signing purposes. There was one point where this woman wanted Roland's autograph and asked me for the pen - I kept fishing around my bag and could only dig up my makeup. Desperate, she asked Roland if it was okay to use makeup to sign his autograph (HEY, what about me?! Those are MY cosmetic products - I'm not going to let Roland sign a cover sleeve using my agnes b. liquid eyeliner or my Bobbi Brown creme blush!) and he replied: "No, I only use makeup on myself." and looked away from her. I giggled at the response.

After spending a little over an hour sweating like a nervous pig, I said my good-byes and good luck to everyone. Curt & Roland both gave me another hug and their trademark European kiss which had me skipping away like a lovestruck fool.

something happens and i'm head over heels
i never find out till i'm head over heels
something happens and i'm head over heels

Next: Linda Stranded!