It a long read but good so I posted it.
Audrie @audsidol 4h4 hours ago
I posted a recap of my Nashville experience on WordPress if anyone is interested. audrieg0.wordpress.com/2016/03/12/walking-in-nashville-10-march-2016/ …Walking in Nashville // 10 MARCH 2016
Posted on March 12, 2016 by Audsidol
This recap for The Original High Tour in Nashville on March 10, 2016 has two parts. It may not be what my usual readers expect, but I can’t tell it any other way but how I feel. The highs were balanced by lows as well. I’m still sorting out all the details as I write this in that post-show fog we have all come to expect in the aftermath of Adam Lambert. It’s always therapeutic for me to relive the moments and try to make sense of everything that lingers in my subconscious. I have seen Adam perform a dozen times, and I always need time to recover.
This time I splurged on a VIP package. The M&G set the arc of expectation even higher than normal when I’m anticipating a concert. I had met Adam in Nashville exactly four years and a day before. I took it as a good sign. I had a plan. I would shake Adam’s hand. I would introduce myself and give him my gift. I had dropped a few pounds (12 to be exact). I planned my outfit and accessories. I got a new haircut and color job. I was ready. I wasn’t perfect by any means, but I was ready to present to Adam my best self. Ta-dah! Then reality happened.
I drove four and half hours in a hard rain, and it continued to pour into the night. I asked about getting a taxi, but the concierge at my hotel said it might take 30 minutes or more on a busy night like this when no one wanted to get drenched. Instead, I tipped the valet to go get my umbrella in the passenger floorboard of my car. All that trouble and little good it did me. I walked only a couple blocks to the venue. I had to get through the gathering of soggy people to the doors to collect my VIP pass and ticket and tote bag with poster sticking out. I tried to keep my soaked umbrella away from it as I climbed two flights of stairs to get to the VIP area. The TALC ladies had arrived just ahead of me, and I was relieved to see them. They were friendly faces in the midst of my ever-growing dread. They held my place while I went to the restroom. I had thought enough in advance to bring a comb, but it was no use. Even the moisture resistant hair spray I applied to hold the sweep just right had evaporated in the mist. That wasn’t all. Even though my bra was downright industrial in its support, I could tell that my bust had adjusted to the cooler temperature inside. My perfectly cut shirt was now perfectly fitted in the wrong place. I suddenly considered putting on my glasses as if that would help hide me. Knowing how spectacles reflect photo flash, I put them away again. I decided to just breathe until I gained the courage to go back out there. Why did everyone else look dry? It seemed like we had all ridden the raft ride at an amusement park, and I was the only one who spun underneath the waterfall. The rest looked lightly sprinkled and only mildly anxious. I started to wonder why I was there.
We finally moved through the doors to wait in back of the auditorium, and I was resolved to finish what I started. I still had my plan. I would shake Adam’s hand. I would introduce myself and give him my gift. I never expected to look good in the picture anyway. I never look good in pictures. As we neared the next doors, the Adam doors, the portal to oblivion, the assistant came out barking orders at us. At my particular place in line, I was privy to her instructions three separate times so I remember very well what she said. “You will go into the room only when you are instructed to do so. You will stand next to Adam, and he will put his arm around you. You will look at the camera, and I will take two photos. Before you go in, you will hand your personal items to security and they will return them to you when you come out. If you have a gift for Adam, you must give it to me, and I will put it on a table for him. It is against policy for you to interact otherwise. Do you understand?” She wasn’t mean, but all my hopes for the greet part of the “meet and greet” were dashed.
I wasn’t about to give her my gift. A woman in line lent me a pen, and I wrote my name on the little tag inside. It wasn’t wrapped exactly. It was a piece of jewelry in a cloth pouch. Somehow I was able to keep it with me even when security took my things. I stepped forward and a uniformed woman pushed me back. “No one is allowed beyond this line until it is your turn!” She made a stiff-armed boundary. I apologized immediately for . . . . I don’t know . . . . existing, I guess. Given her tone, I expected a cavity search. There were mixed reactions from starstruck euphoria to dazed confusion. I heard people coming down the hall saying it was dark in there, well that was fast, black leather pants, it’s a ball cap night, he’s gorgeous.Then the guard sort of moved me around the corner, and there he was. I froze. Imagine Ralphie in line to see Santa in A Christmas Story, and that was me.
The room was very dark, but I could see Adam was smiling. He said, “Hi.” He sort of beckoned me to come in since I obviously was not moving. My eyes darted to the gift table. I said, “I have a gift. Is that okay?” Some voice from the shadows (the photographer) said, “Put it there.” Adam very kindly thanked me, and I said, “You’re welcome.” I stepped over to him on automatic pilot. He put his arm around me, and I put mine around him. He was swimming in that big shirt. I felt his hand on my shoulder, and I just stared into the blackness until the camera stopped blinding me. Then, with the only iota of sense I had left I stepped back and looked into his face. His eyebrows went up expectantly like, “What is it?” only he didn’t say anything. I wanted to say I was sorry for some reason, but I didn’t. I put out my hand, and he shook it. I said, “It was good to see you again.” At the same time he was nodding, “Nice to meet you.” I forgot to say my name. I found my way out, no doubt leaving him with the impression that I was an imbecile. I gathered my purse and VIP tote with clumsy poster and mazed my way like a Bat Out of Hell to the exit. People looked expectantly. “Did you see him? How did it go?” I said something positive, but to be quite honest it is impossible to explain in words how meeting Adam can be both way too much and not nearly enough at the same time.
I spaced out about it for a while, but It’s All Coming Back to Me now. Upon reflection, I am reminded, sadly, of another singer in a secondary way related to Adam himself. Meatloaf. The next day, I peeked cautiously through parted fingers at my photo with Adam sent via email. There I was. My first thought was, I’m Meatloaf. Worse . . . Meatloaf after singing Paradise by the Dashboard Light. My white shirt might have been all right if Adam hadn’t worn all black, but he did (including the backwards cap) so my girth appears barn-door broad. My hair might have been okay if my bangs hadn’t gone all frizzy and oddly shrunken on my forehead. My makeup would have looked natural if the room hadn’t been dungeon dark except for the flashbulb. But all those elements, as fate would have it, were out of my control. I honestly have to laugh. Looking back on the experience now, I realize I did shake Adam’s hand, and I did give him my gift. I guess Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad.
I’m not sorry I did it, but I regret spending so much time thinking about it and planning for it. Though my expectations were obviously too high, the entire event was geared to intimidate into submission all of us who had either won or paid for an opportunity to meet Adam and to maybe say something politely conversational. I don’t think Adam is responsible for how rigid it all was, but if the M&G’s go the way he wants them to, I can’t blame him. Just turning that corner and seeing him standing there looking vaguely like a pagan elf king (still not sure what his outfit was about) obediently greeting his loyal subjects, made me realize how insignificant this part of the job must be to him. I’m not saying Adam doesn’t love and appreciate his fans. He wouldn’t bother with M&G’s if he didn’t get some benefit from it. I’m saying instead that when Adam stresses his favorite interaction with fans is the link from stage to audience, I believe him. That brings me to part two of my recap . . . the show.
I went downstairs, and the usher walked me to my row after Alex Newell’s first song. A man was sitting in my seat. The usher made me sit next to him rather than check his ticket. The “seats” at the Ryman are pew benches. I’m not partial to the honky-tonk proximity, but I wasn’t going to make a scene. That was my first opportunity to do so but unfortunately not the last. Soon a different usher brought a woman to my row and made the man show his ticket. He and his wife were in the wrong place. They moved. I tried to be friendly to the woman who now occupied the space to my left, but she was interested only in her cocktail which she sloshed on the floor. The remainder of the night she elbowed me, stepped on me, waved her hand directly in front of my face, and actually fell down once. The security guard reminded her often to get back to our row since she kept pushing her way into the “pit seats” in front of us. I don’t usually dwell on the negative, but she played a role in what happened later.
Alex made a good opening act, but I just wasn’t into it yet. I was kind of glad when his set ended because I needed to gather myself after the awkward M&G. Before Adam came on, one of my friends found me. We visited a few minutes and met up with some other fans. I heard her say something that also resonated with me later. We were talking about how different, how open and inviting the M&G’s used to be early in his career. She said she loved Adam and his music, but she wished now that she hadn’t accumulated all the fan stuff that she thought she wanted then. It proved to be a prophetic message, and I’m glad I was listening.
People started to chant for the show to start, but I didn’t feel that Adam was even close to being late yet. Then, BAM, it started. I recorded the opening A D A M part. The roars for him were deafening! Adam came out and broke into song. I have never seen him more confident. He has this solo show down to a science, and I am so grateful that he didn’t tour as the guest of anyone else. His voice was spot on. The transitions from set to set were short and seamless. The band is perfectly tuned to him. The dancers enhance the beat as well as the overall vibe of the lyrics . . . serious, then sensual, then fun. The interactions on stage are relaxed but full of admiration. It’s clear that Adam’s the boss. Because they’re so tight, it gave me the freedom to loosen up. Does that make sense? For the first time, I wasn’t focused on whether everything was going to go right. Adam’s got this! I was singing and dancing along with everyone else. Adam was happy, sexy, and articulate. I was touched by how genuinely grateful he was to the audience for making him feel welcome. It was not the same kind of graciousness at the M&G. The lighting is a perfect metaphor. The M&G room was dim. The stage . . . laser beams! He wanted to give himself to us. It paid off. There were moments when Adam was on the move crossing the stage. I watched people watching him then. Because many of us fans are women, I expected their reactions, but I was delighted by how many men reached for Adam. I noticed them fist pumping and opening their mouths to sing even when they didn’t know the lyrics. I’m not talking cute gay boys. I mean older, married-type men. One of them was sitting to my right. I wasn’t sure he was hooked until later. I’ll get to that in a minute.
The whole audience (not just Glamberts) sang along with Mad World and WWFM. The band could have stopped, and we would have carried on a cappella. I love those moments of unity. It was a perfect example of how music brings all our hearts together, just like Adam intended. I also love Adam’s new tracks, but I’m “in love” with the medleys. Hearing Adam sing Runnin’ live and watching him dance to Lay Me Down both were definite highlights among too many stellar moments to name. I haven’t been watching videos so I didn’t realize how fantastic the projected images on the screen in back are! Knowing that this show is the culmination of Adam’s vision gives me even more respect for him as an artist. I never tire of reading the reviews and comments from surprised concert-goers who had no idea what a marvel Adam is. My somewhat smug satisfaction seems endless in that regard. So many of us knew all along that THIS was the show Adam could do. I am ever grateful to the universe for providing me an opportunity against the odds (timing, money, weather) to see this show. As Leo DiCaprio said, “I do not take tonight for granted.”
The night did not pass without its lessons. I would rather call them lessons than low points. I like to think I have learned something about myself when I am faced with conflict. I also want to think Adam would have been proud of me for what I did. The show came to an end as it always must. The crowd wildly encouraged an encore. Adam came back out with a towel and commented as he does how hot and sweaty he got. He wiped the towel along the back of his neck, and I knew he was going to throw it. He grinned. He looked out at us and threw the towel in my direction. I caught it. There were others scrambling for it, but only one other woman had a good enough grip to yank it from me. She had left her row behind me to come up front for the encore. The security was nowhere around to stop her or the others. She had no business up there. Though she was also at the VIP, tickets are luck of the draw. You pay the same price as everyone else for VIP, but you have to take the seat you get. She was out of place and out of line. She jerked the towel hard enough to jam my finger. I held on for a minute because I was simply in awe that I had caught Adam’s sweaty towel! The more the other woman was drawing attention to herself by trying to wrangle it from me, the more I realized I didn’t want to be that fan. What if Adam looked out and saw us fighting over it? I was mortified. The drunk-ass woman on my left said we should get a pair of scissors and cut it in half. My brain went biblical in a flash, and I let go. No way in hell was I going to succumb to King Solomon’s judgment. Besides, after that awful woman’s desperation, I would never have been able to look at the frayed edge without thinking of her on the other end. I am not the one hanging by a thread. I’m not that fan.
After it was all over, the man on my right patted me on the back. He said he wouldn’t have let it go which was kind of funny when I imagined this southern roughneck so moved by Adam’s performance he’d cling to his towel and wrestle that woman to the ground for it. He also said he and his wife saw me catch it fair and square. So, if the Legend of Adam’s Towel is told again, I will be the stranger who took the high road, strolling down a dark, rainy street in Music City with both my memory and my dignity intact. In the long run, I hope that will be reward enough.