Okay, so where we last left off, I was at the TeePee on the Rez with Jessie, Brian and Rocket. After breakfast, Rocket went home and Jessie, Brian and I chilled for a bit before they took off for a comedy show in Rochester. I sat paralyzed in the aftermath of total saturation socialization, cried a bit, then started getting ready for the totally kick ass evening ahead.
Yoga Molly called and let me know of her plans for the night--Irish Fest and the Flogging Molly concert--and we agreed that we'd meet after our concerts. Because, in just a few short hours, I would be sitting ten feet from the amazing, beautiful, fabulous, talented, amazing Idina Menzel. I bought tickets to see her earlier in the summer and decided that even if no one would go with me I'd be a big girl and go all by myself. And I did.
When I got to the Fitzgerald (before it opened, of course, because I'm an insanely early concert goer) I sat outside and read. When the doors opened, I and about a thousand of my thirteen-year-old fellow fans burst through the gate into our seats. The usher led me to my seat, and led me, and led me, and led me, all the way down to the third row. (I had, by the way, front row seats from Ticketmaster but was so freaked out by the possibility of sitting THAT CLOSE to Idina Menzel that I actually let them go.) Perfect.
The opening act was the brilliant and hilarious Martin Zellar. Who, I might add, gives writer Ethan Canin a run for his money in the Hottest Man Alive area. When he came out, he informed us taht he was fully aware of who he was opening for and that he thought he was the "jalapeño popper appetizer before a Michelin five star meal." The adults in the room (five hundred parents and me) laughed heartily, the teens laughed probably because he said "jalapeño popper." He got his guitar all plugged in (it wasn't) and told us that he can't read music (thereby explaining the five harmonicas he had onstage--all different keys) and then he played some fine, fine tunes. Toward the end of his set, someone yelled out Freebird-style "SONIC BOOM!" to which Martin said "Okay," and changed whatever song he was planning to play to the song that made the Rolling Stone Top Ten Masturbation Songs list back in the early 90s. He told us the story, and I again laughed heartily when he discussed jerking off in front of a thousand teenage girls. The other adults did not laugh as heartily as I at this.
Then came intermission, which was about thirty hours long, before the amazing fabulousness of Idina was released upon us.
To be continued....
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