Friday, September 01, 2006

Ken & Vicky meet ME…

Those of you who know Vicky know about her uncanny luck with winning prizes by calling into radio stations. (And now, if you don’t know her, you know that, too.)

Recently, Vicky won another prize.

She called me and asked, “What are you doing Thursday night?”

I scanned my brain for my heavy social schedule… and didn’t find one. “Nothing.”

“Good!” she exclaimed. “Then, you can go to the Melissa Etheridge concert with me!”

… curses…

So, tonight, we drove up to the Greek Theater for the concert.

I guess it didn’t help that we quarreled almost the entire way up. I can’t understand why; it’s not as though there’s any stress in our lives…

But we got there with a hasty truce and, having parked a mile away, began the hike to the theater. Vicky saw a bathroom about halfway there and began pulling me in that direction. “We’re going to be late,” I cautioned here.

She had a panicked look. “That’s fine. This is important!”

So, to the bathroom we went. It was a small shack with men’s on one side and ladies’ on the other. So, I figured I might as well drain some fluids while I was there.

I didn’t think the bathroom would be too busy. I didn’t know much about Melissa Etheridge but I did know:

* She had a baby with David Crosby.
* She was a lesbian.
* This meant she hadn’t had sex with Crosby… thus increasing my respect for her.

Thus, I surmised that the male crowd wouldn’t be anywhere nearby. And I was right – the bathroom was empty! With three stalls total, and two of them broke, there was still no line! So, I went ahead… and went.

I wasn’t surprised when someone walked in but I was surprised to see it was a woman. You’ve never seen someone shut down the valve and zip up so fast!

Walking out, I had to squeeze through the line of women who had commandeered the men’s bathroom.

About these women:

* Oh yeah… they were lesbians.
* I hadn’t seen so many lesbians since the last clearance sale at Old Navy.
* The place had more dikes that the Netherlands.
* They’d make the isle of Lesbos sink.

But I kid the politically marginalized.

When Vicky got out, I wanted to make sure she noticed. She had, adding, “And keep your voice down. I’ve seen plenty who could kick your ass.” Sure, that’s not saying much, but it would be embarrassing to explain on the nightly news.

At the ticket gate, they were checking people for cameras, which were verboten. Vicky hid her phone, because it had a camera and, once we took our seats, immediately started filming everything – not to post on the Internet(s), just to see if she could!

And speaking of our seats… the radio station sure did spring for seats… closest to the sun – we were pretty damned high up there! I won’t say we were sitting in the last row, because we were sitting in the second to the last row!

Now, I don’t know Melissa Etheridge’s music very well. Up until a few nights ago, I wasn’t aware that I’d heard some of her songs. I was just glad to see Vicky enjoying herself. As for me, while I found the music aesthetically pleasing it just didn’t speak to me. I couldn’t really relate.

Mind you, the woman has a voice of sandpaper. She’s not just the gay man’s Bonnie Raitt, she’s got a little of the gay man’s Bob Dylan or Bruce Springsteen (I still can’t decide) mixed in there. And then, there was the band. The drummer was up on a pedestal, the point of which was to keep him away from the other band. The drummer was in a permanent “time out”. The bassist looked like the lesbian love child of Stephen King and Bobby Brady… lesbian because I wasn’t sure if it was a guy or a girl… Then, the lead guitarist… this guy made sure to load up on espresso before starting. He was playing in his own, little world… freaky!

So, as I said, the music was good but I just couldn’t really relate – and that had nothing to do with the rows of lesbians dancing before us… better than I could! But there was one thing that I could relate to and helped me decide that I liked Melissa Etheridge very much. She was just so honest during her concert, and so open, I knew that I’d like her if I met her face to face. Even hundreds of yards away, she was obviously authentic.

Now to figure out what she was singing…

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