The nature of life in reality . . .
"I was made for lovin' you baby . . ."4/26/00
Last night, I became a member of the KISS Army. It was their farewell tour
and I was offered a ticket. I had to go. It's my duty as an
American.
Harold's sister was able to snag four primo seats well
within "face burning range" and there were four well adjusted middle class
adults ready to rock-and-roll. James (who has never been a member of the
KISS Army, although he did a four-year tour with Uncle Sam) didn't go with
us. He was on call and I've been told that he has "issues" with the band
thanks to an old college girlfriend. But, he told me to have a good time
just the same.
The fun started at six or so when I went down to the
neighbor's place. Sonya was in the midst of transforming Dawne (the
aforementioned sister) into Peter Chris when I arrived. Shortly thereafter,
I became Paul (The Star Child), and Harold was turned into Space Ace. The
siblings went down to the corner grocery to pick up a disposable camera to
document the event while I painted the mark of The Demon (Gene Simmons) on
Sonya. She wasn't real thrilled about it at first, but she looked way cool.
There were various odd looks and catcalls from people as we made
our way down to the Pyramid, but the trip was generally uneventful. We got
there just as Ted Nugent was finishing his set. I had hoped that we would
miss him entirely. Oh, well. I survived. When we went to the ticket guy, we
were informed that our section (the one well within "face burning range")
did not exist. We had to go see this guy on the floor so that we could get
replacement tickets. I couldn't hear a thing, but the guy motioned in a
general direction that I thought wasn't too offensive. Besides, he said
that they were the best he had left. Some other "dudes" were bitching about
"getting' screwed man" because they had paid 4X face value from a scalper
for these "nonexistent" seats. I didn't really care. Our tickets were
free.
We suffered through the last few songs of Ted's set and waited
for the real show to start. The Puerto Rican guys in front of us took some
pictures and we chatted with the Vixen from Seattle sitting just behind. A
couple of minutes before the show started everybody stood up and started
screaming and pointing. Four guys in full gear (I'm assuming that they were
one of the tribute bands playing around town) walked onto the Pyramid floor
liked they owned the place. I wish I could make an entrance like
that.
As soon as the lights went down, Dawn was as bad as a Duranie
in the Durania (read my Duran Duran tour
journal if you don't understand.)
They opened with Detroit Rock
City and closed with Rock and Roll All Night. In between there were sights
to behold.
Jen's Top Ten list of things seen/heard at the KISS concert:
10 - Flames so hot you can feel the heat 150 feet away.
9 - Indoor Fireworks.
8 - Metal Heads that looked exactly the same as they did in high
school.
7 - "Hot Chicks" that get pointed at for backstage passes.
6 - Suburban kids completely unaware of Arena Show drug etiquette.
5 - The adorable Japanese tourists sitting behind us.
4 - Rampant exhibitionism in the front row.*
3 - Gene Simmons' ego.
2 - The way Paul Stanley can dance in super stacked platform boots.**
1 - The original power ballad, Beth sung to a canned soundtrack,
under a mirror ball.***
* There were lots of tits, I assure you. One girl, however, stands out in my memory. She not only licked each of her nipples.
She proceeded to put each of them in her mouth and suckle herself. We talked about it on our way home.
Sonya: "I can't do that."
Dawne: "Neither can I."
Jen: "Why in God's name would you want to? I mean, you have it in your mouth, you sneeze, you bite it off . . . How do you explain something like that?
Harold didn't say much. He just smiled.
**"I swear! If you didn't know he was straight . . ." Ladies and Gentlemen, the agile brain of Sonya Williams at work.
*** I know this makes me a total girl and all, but I just love this song. It was a roller rink moment if there ever was one.
Strange things
I've been carrying a list of things to write about in my purse for a week
now. Since I'm thinking about it, here you go:
The Burning
Bush
Last Friday (Good Friday), I'm driving down Union Ave. As I
pass the Danvers Restaurant, I see a single shrubbery (bush) on fire
(burning). I don't know if it was a sign from God or not, but it got a lot
of strange stares from the rush hour drivers.
Truck Stop Tunes
How strange is it to walk into the bathroom
of a truck stop and hear ABBA? Too Strange.
Café Mexicali
I'm not saying that there is some sort of
Oliver Stone like conspiracy at work in Memphis, but I think it might just
be more than coincidence that all of our brand new Starbucks opened
in what used to be wildly popular Mexican restaurants. Makes you think.
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