Here goes. I've been thinking about this since my flight back to California touched down. I want to settle in and let feelings emerge like green seeds seeking freedom from the soil. Can I? The beginning has come to an end. I'm not sad, but sometimes tears just come.
I can't really post a recap of 11 shows in one individual performance review; and I don't have any idea of where my fingers will take me as I type. But it's time I let this flow. I've spent nine days finding my way back to earth. 10,000 miles traveled alone. Somehow I kept my act together, my tickets in one place, my wallet and my passport and my dreams packed into one carry-on bag. It all worked and it was fabulous and it was scary. In Montreal it was raining and everyone but me spoke French and I missed my stop to my hotel and I thought, seriously, about heading home right then.
But I didn't, and the story got better - just like the weather. Briefly, the winds of time stopped sweeping me along. Briefly, I stopped growing old.
I created my fortunate path. Bought into the opportunity to be close to Adam & Queen on this tour. I chose this tour over the double-paned windows and driveway we need. Such an indulgence! I had no idea what would happen. The choice became ecstatically right when Adam raised his red-gloved hand, pointed, and fixed his laser-eyes on me at IZOD. I knew it! I must twirl! The rest is a fog, so I am eternally grateful to everyone who captured photos & video of those . . . 20 seconds? So much for "fifteen minutes of fame" . . . 20 seconds will suit me just fine! 'Us' just fine. DH , who shared my happiness, remains a god.
The backstage tours put this experience into perspective. Regular people performing extraordinary tasks to bring this show to life. Nameless people in black jumpsuits and harnesses, hanging just out of our view, aiming the spotlights . . . individuals sitting in the dark, just offstage, selecting and projecting the video images onscreen, timed to the beat of the music . . . a crew that anticipated every moment, and were ready with a guitar, or a prop (hello, chaise!), or a change of key, a new microphone, or a steady hand to guide the Kabuki curtain offstage when the equipment failed. I was told, more than once, 'we are a family' by our tour guide, I felt I was their honored guest, each time I walked those corridors and learned how their repetitive, seemingly mundane tasks created magic.
I watched another kind of magic in Boston. Early in the morning, I walked by the TD Garden venue. It felt good to be close. Stood on the sidewalk and spent hours watching the huge semi-trailers coming and going . . . one truck would take up three lanes along the avenue, coming out of the parking lot; then, immediately, another huge "QUEEN & Adam Lambert" truck would barrel off the turnpike and turn into the lot to unload. I stood and waved at this parade, and took photos, too. Don't know why DH wonders why I brought home over thirty pictures of trucks!
Speaking of trucks . . . . a few days earlier, it was my first visit to NYC, and he Empire State Building from the 86th floor terrace. Lines & lines of people. Finally, I was taking it all in and focusing my little camera on the view. Oh! I could see Madison Square Garden waaay down below! Zoomed in . . . whoa! There were the trucks!!! Egads!! I couldn't get an elevator to the ground floor fast enough! I needed to get to MY main attraction! That's the way it was, from Detroit to Montreal to NYC to Washington DC to Boston to IZOD. While I experienced wonderful adventures in every city, my most thrilling moments lived through trucks, backstage corridors, serendipitous encounters, spontaneous bits and pieces of joy that strung themselves together. I have a luminous necklace of memories to share, to hold, to bring to my lips and kiss.
Most of them involve YOU.
You, out there, who share my understanding and inexplicable passion for Adam. And now, 'Queen'.
In the IZOD video of 'Crazy Little Thing . . ." there's a moment at the beginning where Adam is doing his segue, and Brian, who is kind of twiddling his fingers, keeping them loose, says "Crazy??" . . . well, it's the moment when I fell into love, yet again, with another man. Please go look, see how cute this is, how adorable beyond words - and then tell me I'm crazy, too.
I'm still talking about YOU. And ME.
We play an amazing role. The shades of difference in every performance were nuanced by the audience - something that enthralled me from the stage. The power of every seat in every arena was a laser of its own; it seared into every performer, swept them up and carried them back to you. A tidal wave of elated emotion pulled back and forth - just like the sea. I saw it; I felt it; I saw Spike and Neil come alive in it, right along with Rufus and Roger, Brian and Adam. I am in awe.
And YOU, again.
You, the many, many wonderful friends I have here, there, and everywhere (BTW, that was my favorite Beatles song - one I'd love to hear Adam sing). I can't fully explore or capture or explain the love I have for my Adamtopia soulmates. People who shared hotel rooms with me; seats and parties and meals and wine and stories and angst and questions and thrills and embraces and bathrooms and advice and wisdom and cell phones and salads and cab rides and awkward moments and understanding and sharing the bills and fucking the bills and more wine and just being. I miss you. I know there will be more!
In Boston, the night before the performance, a group of us had dinner at the famed 'Union Oyster House'. We were served at the Kennedy table, which was quite a treat! After our meal, we began the short walk back to our hotel. Across the cobblestone street, a band was playing at the 'Oldest Tavern in America'. We stopped, sang and danced on the sidewalk to Van Morrison's 'Brown-Eyed Girl'. When I tell you of how I may cry . . . well, that was one of those moments.
I've been a lone wolf in my community for the past five years - the lone wolf, a proud wolf, every step of the way with Adam. It's transformed into my journey and my becoming, as well. My husband is with me. This means everything, because I don't have to pretend.
Q3.
Sorry, honey, I have to spill. I know we all wonder 'how does she do it?' We wonder 'how does she know it?'
Well, she does it and she knows it!
I adore this woman.
The Queen of multitaskers.
We were driving thru New York. Cell phone tower connection was lost. She handed me (in the passenger seat) one of the myriad of controllers that surround her; devices she so adeptly uses. Quickly inserviced me on how to reconnect the phone to the directions and 'Amy', the voice that would tell us how to negotiate our way through New York to IZOD. Umm. I don't know how to answer my phone. I messed up, of course, and handed her the device. She reprogrammed it, while zipping thru the Bronx, narrating a brief history of the native people. She handed it back to me, and I grabbed the devil device so strongly I pressed on all the little buttons and deleted everything!
I'm still learning. Q3, like Adam, embraces and understands the process of evolution - graciously so!
I have my little list. These are my random musings from 11 concerts. I really can't remember them individually. It is, after all, a dream.
I asked the 'director', back stage, to please bring Adam's 'get on your bike and ride!' to the screen . . . I think he did!
In the darkness I hear Adam's voice, very ethereal, as he begins "In The Lap Of The Gods . . . Revisited". My favorite moment of all. I guess this means this song is the one for me.
I won't forget - at the tip of the thrust at #1 Chicago - when the bottle of champagne wasn't opened . . Adam was pissed!
'Love of my Life' in Montreal. Queen fans responded to an email to bring their lighters or candles or glowsticks for Brian. It was a sea of starlight; a magnificent dark sky.
"Love Kills' in Boston. Adam sang in 'head voice'; gentle, longing; and the bridge had a more complex orchestration. To die for.
"Who Wants To Live Forever" - We need to listen and reflect and question. Every time we hear this masterpiece, Brian and Adam walk into the light of that church.
I never tire of Brian's guitar solo. His guitar cries. Cries. And when the MIlky Way rises in the 'Q' and Brian is there, too . . . how can the world not listen to this voice?
I watched Adam, three concerts, come to our side of the stage, drink either water or tea, wipe his brow, and head back out. He had blinders on. Complete focus on performance. Paid no attention whatsoever to the close environment around him. He checked in with Spike each time. In Montreal, he exclaimed "It's LOUD!!" which just made me squeal!
Also, there was this. In front of me, he appeared exquisite and fragile; like lace. Then, after his bit of respite and refreshment, he would turn away - back towards the stage - and, I swear, his bit of a shrug, as he began again, drew an aura of magnificence and drama to him; leaving him huge and untouchable. He grew, he grew!
Security personnel should not be tall.
New tickets, sold the day of the performance, should never, never be for seats that are superior to seats purchased in advance.
There should be a special section for girls who had to get their pigtails on.
I met NIle Rogers. Perfect gentleman. So kind.
I know I'm forgetting things. Things I know you'll understand. I didn't know, when I packed my red shoes and my black buckles, that I'd bring hopes with me; and that I'd come home with more than memories. I haven't enough. I need more. So, I'll forego the future home improvement and again persuade my darling husband to believe our future revels in music; not in windows or floors. I'd rather float than walk.
I'm twice Adam's age. For me, and maybe for Brian and Roger, too, when we hear those idyllic notes to 'The Show Must Go On' , it truly carries the voice of the future.
How thrilling it is to go on. Heard by a knowing heart. Beyond trust, beyond advice, beyond experience.
Dare I bow?
I've come home, and I think I'm not naive or too much a dreamer, anymore.
You should have a year to save up for A3! 
