Don't Need Nothin, But A Good Time
If you were cognizant in the 80s, you will now have that song stuck in your head. Have a nice day. ;)
Just kidding.
This blog entry has a few jumps in time frame, so stay with me. I guarantee you’ll find at least one thing absurdly funny. We’ll start at last Sunday.
I was heading home from running errands and turned on the car radio just in time to hear an ad of some kind, with the familiar riffs of Poison’s “Don’t Need Nothin But A Good Time� playing in the background. Turns out, Bret Michaels, the former lead singer of said band would be playing a solo gig at the Magic City Music Hall, in Johnson City (10 minutes from my house), the following Sunday night.
The Magic City Music Hall is basically a large bar with a dance floor. In previous incarnations it was known as “Touch of Texas� (the big dance floor was for line dancing) and before that, a giant-rat-puppet-themed-over-priced pizza joint. Yes folks, Bret Michaels was to grace the same stage as “Chuck E. Cheese�... Priceless.
For the next week, I proceeded to FORGET to buy tickets. It finally occurs to me on the day of the show to call the box office and order them. The oh-so-helpful (note the sarcasm) guy who answered the phone asked if I wanted GA (stand all night, but pay 5 bucks less) or Reserved Seating. He then offered me the choice between seats at a table or in the chairs set up by the stage. Uh, hello?? I’m buying tickets to SEE a concert not sit at a bar table and drink all night. There’s a million other bars in the Triple Cities where you can do that without a $20 cover charge (the cost of the reserved seating ticket). I chose ‘seats near the stage’. But Mr. Helpful couldn’t tell me exactly where the seats would be until he could ‘get into the ticket system’, but I’d be able to pick them up at Will-Call.
Dan and I headed over the hill to Johnson City a bit late (dinner with the ‘rents). Ok, it was more like 45 minutes later then we expected. Yet we were very surprised to see that there were STILL parking spots available in the tiny parking lot in front of the Music Hall. We actually parked 20 feet from the door. Not exactly looking like a sold out crowd.
I’ve picked up tickets at Will-Call before, so I know the drill. Bring picture ID and the credit card you used to purchase the tickets. The (more than) slightly daft girl at the ticket window asks for my name when I tell her I’m picking up tickets. I give her my last name and she starts thumbing through the Tupperware recipe holder. She can’t find it. I spell my last name for her (it’s 4 letters long). She still can’t find it. She asks my phone number. Still nothing. She calls over the other clerk to help her look. AT NO POINT DID EITHER ONE OF THEM ASK FOR MY CREDIT CARD OR MY ID. Finally, tweedle-dumb and tweedle-dumber find it in the aforementioned recipe holder with the 8 other Will-Call tickets yet to be picked up.
With tickets in hand, we go in search of our seats. Now WE can’t find them. I go ask one of the bouncer/security types if he could help us. He kindly points out that these are not tickets for the seats by the stage, but for a table on the edge of the dance floor… behind a floor-to-ceiling post. YOU HAVE GOT TO BE *&^%ING KIDDING ME!! There’s 20 x 30 feet of dance floor space where the people with GA tickets could stand in front of these craptacular seats. I (as calmly as I can muster at the time) point out that I was told on the phone that these were seats on the floor and I specifically did NOT want a table seat. The security guy was nice enough to go dig up two more chairs and puts them out on the floor for us. We’re now 6 ‘rows’ from the stage.
Which pretty much became a moot point when Bret Michaels took the stage and basically told everyone to “Come On Down!� Seating of any kind in front of the stage was no longer an option if you actually wanted to see anything...and I was there to get pictures, dammit! I made my way up closer to the stage and spent the next hour and a half trying to focus my camera while holding it straight-armed above my head. Good times.
Actually, the show was pretty good. Especially considering that Bret Michaels had the flu. When he spoke he sounded like ‘he swallowed a handful of nails’ (to quote the man himself). He apologized profusely for sounding so bad (and promised on more than one occasion to buy everyone a beer the next time he was in town), but he sounded just fine when he sang. It was an instant flashback to junior high.
*insert next time frame jump here*
Back in junior high, I listened to the requisite 80’s junior high school music, AKA ‘New Wave’. Duran Duran and A-ha being my two favorites (no, this is not the absurdly funny part I mentioned earlier). My cousin Lisa, on the other hand, was into ‘Metal’. More specifically, she re-wallpapered her bedroom in early Motley Crue and (here’s the seque) Poison. I remember the first time I saw the poster for the album cover of “Look What the Cat Dragged In�.
I thought “My God, those are four ugly women wearing waaaaaay too much make-up.� Upon closer inspection I realized, “those are four scary looking guys and the make-up isn’t helping.� But Lisa thought Bret Michaels was God’s gorgeous gift to the planet while I would have argued the same about Rick Springfield (no, this isn’t the funny part either).
*time frame jump back to the near present*
During the time between finding our seats and the appearance of the opening act, I thought it would be fun to call Cousin Lisa and torment her with the fact that while she was home with her husband and three kids, I was less than 20 feet from where her big-haired metal-idol would appear in the next hour or so.
Speaking of hair, DEAR LORD!! I haven’t seen so many bottle blondes and bad perms since junior high. HELLOOOOOO?!?!? The 80’s called and want their curling irons and AquaNet back!
After Lisa and I had a good laugh over the over processed parade in front of me, I told her that I would call her back after the show if I could get Bret Michaels on the phone. She promised to be up, but really didn’t believe I’d have the opportunity or the cajones to do it.
*one more time frame jump to after the show*
Dan and I hung around in the bar for a little while after the show ended and chatted with the professional photographer who was there from Syracuse. Then we decided to head out towards the tour bus where about 30 other people had congregated. Security (the guy who got the extra chairs for Dan and I) came out and said that Bret Michaels was too sick to stand outside and sign autographs and would be getting directly on the bus. He also informed the crowd that they needed to leave (or at least move a ways back) or they would be arrested. (Nice). I’ve been to enough concerts, everyone from Rush to Rick Springfield (stop laughing, already) to Weird Al Yankovic, to have heard the same threat in various permutations. First off, I’ve never seen anyone arrested for hanging around the bus. AND, I also know that even though security says the musicians aren’t signing autographs, 9 out of 10 times they will for a smaller crowd. The smaller crowd was accomplished by the previously mentioned promises of incarceration. Within 5 minutes, security was back with Bret Michaels in tow and he proceeded to start signing autographs.
Thank God for speed dial.
Here’s a transcript, as close as to what I can remember, of what was said.
Lisa: Hello?
Me: Lisa, it’s Tera. I’m out by the tour bus and Bret Michaels is about 10 feet away signing autographs.
Lisa: WHAT!??!! Noooooooo
Me: Yes. Just Stay on the line, Ok? Stay on the line.
Bret Michaels starts walking down the row of people. When he gets to me, I shove my cell phone in his face.
Me: Bret, can you please say hi to my cousin, Lisa.
Bret: *takes the cellphone* Hi Cousin ...
Lisa: *as relayed to me later* Hi Bret ... I’m sorry I wasn’t there tonight.
Bret: We had a really awesome show. But it’s ok you weren’t here because I’m really sick. I told these guys I’ll be back soon and the beer is on me. So that’s the show you’ll want to make.
Lisa: I promise to be there!
Bret: Ok, hon. Bye.
Me: Thanks, Bret *taking back my cell phone which is now inoculated with Bret Michaels flu viri*
Dan and I head back to his car, all the while still talking to Lisa on the phone. Actually, it was more listening to her completely lose her marbles. She now owed me big time :) and while questioning my sanity, also marveled over the fact that I had the nerve to do it in the first place.
It was now close to 11 PM, and both Dan and I had to work in the morning, so we left for home.
Earlier, Dan procured a guitar pick for me, and I got the set list from off the stage. Add that to the 40+ pictures that I shot, and hearing my cousin totally spaz out, it was quite the entertaining evening.
