Wednesday, June 14, 2006

Never, In a Million Years

Did Roadchick think she would be seen at Fan Fair. Never. Well, now it's called CMA Music Festival or something like that, but still. The closest Roadchick got to the festivities was checking people into hotel rooms when that was her day gig.

The Man, however, is a big country music fan. Roadchick likes country music but is not of the fan mentality. Well, she didn't used to be. (See the post about Ronnie Milsap.) In order to spend time with the Man, Roadchick made her way downtown not once, but TWICE during the weekend. On Saturday, Roadchick also took her son and his girlfriend along because another friend's father is a musician and was performing. Chuck Gatlin is an awesome performer and if y'all are ever in Music City and have the chance to see him - do. Even if you have to Mapquest a map to where he's playing.

Roadchick's crew and the Man met up and listened to music for awhile and headed back to Hard Rock Cafe, because, after all, is there anywhere else to eat? Of course not.
The Man had a 4 day pass to all of the events and concerts so when he headed off for the evening concert at the Coliseum, Roadchick and her crew headed for home.

On Sunday, Roadchick and the Man made plans to meet up downtown and hang out for awhile before he headed off for the final concert of Fan Fair. The Man wanted pictures of Sammy Kershaw so he went to take those and Roadchick hung around the gate like the worst sort of groupie - the kind that is too CHEAP to purchase a ticket to the event but still hopes the band notices her. While she was hanging around and trying to look cool, one of the security guys started chatting to Roadchick. Asking her what she was "mixed with". Roadchick, ever the brightest bulb on Broadway, immediately thinks of alcoholic drinks and cut up fruit and lovely mixers. This, of course, made no sense whatsoever. Roadchick, undaunted, moves closer and says..."Excuse me?" The security guy who had cornrows that ended in braids on his shoulders, repeats himself. Unfortunately without clarifying what "mixed with" meant.

No, Patient Reader, do not point out that Roadchick should have figured it out by now, because she had NOT. Finally, security guy explains himself. "Are you part Indian?"

Now, of course, Patient Reader, you most likely do not know what Roadchick looks like. She is blonde. Almost white-blonde. With blue, blue eyes. And reasonably fair skin. She could not look like more of a Viking or German Beer Maid if she tried. Roadchick is NOT part Indian. Not the tiniest sliver.

But, now Roadchick is beginning to understand. (Remember - not the brightest bulb on Broadway.) Security guy is chatting her up. So, Roadchick chats back, explaining that she is pretty much a white girl and the Man is inside the fence, taking pictures. And she is waiting for him to return. Because he is inside the fence and she is not. Because she (sniffle) doesn't have a pass. If she had 5 more minutes, she would have been inside that fence, Patient Reader. Roadchick guarantees it. But, the Man returned and off they went, back down Broadway with the rest of the tourists.

All too soon, it was time for the Man to go to the concert and Roadchick to head home. So, the Man walked her back to the corner, hugged and kissed her goodbye, and headed off into the Fan Fair sunset while Roadchick turned the corner and headed to her car. Halfway down the block, Roadchick saw something hanging from a parking meter. She moved closer, approaching cautiously, not wanting to attract attention to the fact that THERE WAS A 4 DAY PASS HANGING FROM SAID PARKING METER AND NO ONE WAS ANYWHERE NEAR IT except for a group of skater kids that would have scammed the pass just to be mean to Roadchick. This was a sign from Above that she was MEANT to go to the concert.

Y'all, Roadchick got the pass and got her tail on a shuttle bus to the Coliseum. While on the bus, she called the Man. She asked him where his seat was and it was in the nosebleeds somewhere. He wondered why she was asking such a thing. Roadchick calmly informed him that her seat was Lower Level, Row 4. The Man was speechless for a moment and then asked if she had bought a ticket to the concert. Hell, no. If Roadchick was going to buy something like that, she would have had it a long time ago, not 3 minutes before the show was going to start unless she had planned it that way. Scalpers.

Roadchick explained where her ticket came from and the Man was amazed. He met her at the Coliseum after he finished walking there. Roadchick, on the other hand, was fresh as a daisy since she rode the bus. Because, she's a lazy tourist. No extra walking for her if she can help it.

And, on that night, the last night of the festival,Mr. Ronnie Milsap was performing with Los Lonely Boys. Oh. My. God. Roadchick has not the words. She is praying that there will be an album. She wishes she was a big enough dork to have smuggled in a video camera or something. Y'all - it was so worth it.

It was worth it even though she had to walk back across the pedestrian bridge that is 10,000 miles tall and all uphill both ways. In the rain. In flip-flops. And a white shirt. She would do it again in a heartbeat.

And, she would do it again in a heartbeat just to be able to spend that time with the Man.

Because, sometimes? She acts like she is 12.