Kelly and I did a lot of wandering. We had, after all, about
3 hours until the show would start (and who knew how long
until *NSync themselves would be on). We were highly amused
by the looks of Great Confusion our Duran Attire prompted.
You could just SEE the young 'uns trying to process it. "Five
guys- wait, THAT isn't *NSync!" or "Um, do they
know this isn't a Duran Duran concert?" *snicker*
Especially the really little ones who couldn't read yet. My
shirt totally flummoxed them.
The carnival itself was too crowded to be much fun, so we
parked it on a shady patch of grass. I called my mom, since
I'd barely talked to her in a week. We looked at more cars.
We braved the crowds to try some Kettle Corn and get Cokes
(my first caffeinated drink since January and my first soda
in 6 weeks. I couldn't finish it! Too bubbly! What's happened
to me?!). We watched groups of kids crowd around news cameras.
We wandered some more. We interacted with a few older fans
who dug our Duran gear. We listened to some more craptastic
KIIS DJ babble. We wandered even more.
By this time, we saw the gates were open, and people were
streaming in. Amusingly, the entrances were crowded with huge
plastic trash cans proclaiming "SIGNS AND POSTERS ARE
NOT ALLOWED INSIDE THE ROSE BOWL! PLEASE DEPOSIT ALL SIGNS
AND GIFTS HERE! THEY WILL BE DELIVERED TO *NSYNC'S DRESSING
ROOM!" As if. So yeah, all those carefully-made, glittered,
decoupaged, colored, love-laden signs ended up crammed in
glorified garbage cans...along with ten million stuffed animals,
flowers, toys, t-shirts and what-not. NO BUNNYCHUCKERS ALLOWED!
Hee hee hee.
Kel and I, renegades to the core, carefully hid our cameras
before lining up at the gates. "How're you guys doing?"
asked the guy taking tickets. "Just fine!" I burbled
like a loon. He looked at our tickets...our tickets that said
ROW 1, and grinned. "I'll bet you are!" he said.
Oh yeah! Me and Kelly doinged and shrieked once inside the
gates. Heck, we doinged and shrieked all over the place.
From that point on, it was a veritable gauntlet of security
wanting to see our tickets (well, except when we stopped in
at the bathrooms). We had to show them to people to tell us
which gate to go to. Then we had to show them to the people
at the gate. Then they made us go show them to people at a
table to get green wristbands. ("I mean, gimme a wristband!"[Dureference])
Appropriately, this is where we had the Ultimate Appreciation
of our Durangear. The woman giving us our wristbands - and
admiring our front-row tickets - looked at us in confusion.
"They aren't playing here tonight, you know.... "They're
NOT?!" I gasped, all pretend-shocked, before grinning.
"Honey, we've been doing this for 15 years, we're old
pros at this shit. We wore our Duran stuff to show the little
girls we've been screaming at shows since before they were
You Go GIRLFREN'!! Give it up for my girl Dwanollah, ladies
Hee! "Right on!" the girl hooted, clapping her hands
in delight, and about a half-dozen of the Bracelet People
joined in, also admiring our Duranieness.("We RULE!"
was the operative phrase of the day.) Of course, "Would
you like to see our tickets?" (said very gleefully) became
the operative phrase of the next ten minutes
as we flashed wristbands and tix and descended through
the tunnel that led to the field of the Rose Bowl. The Gauntlet
continued, with people checking our tickets literally every
few steps. Entryway to the field: check ticket. Entryway to
the seats: check ticket. First 5 seats: check ticket. Next
5 seats: check ticket.
And she is NOT exaggerating.
After about a dozen repetitions of this routine, we were FINALLY
escorted to our FRONT FUCKING ROW SEATS!, upon which time
we turned around, gazed at the 60,000 or so people behind
us, looked at each other, and started screaming and hugging
dementedly! The front was lined with security people, and,
while it was still light and empty (the front-row VIPs don't
show up until five minutes before the show, unlike us two
okay, OLD dorks!…who didn't have Preferred Parking!),
we wanted to take some pictures. We weren't sure about the
camera rules, but to my surprise, there were LOTS of other
folk with cameras. Apparently now you CAN bring cameras, recorders
and video thingies to concerts as long as they aren't high-powered.
So we were total doofs, taking pictures of each other (and
asking the least-surly guard to take pictures of us) in FRONT
The stage...the stage was HUGE; it was set up with two rounded
bump-outs on either end, and with five smaller platforms (including
one RIGHT IN FRONT OF US) intermittently, as well as the huge
ramp leading from the middle of the stage out to a tower of
metal and things in the middle of the field. There were mile-high
towers of high-tech speakers everywhere. And there was a small
sign in front of our seats: "WARNING: Pyrotechnic Area.
No Smoking." Uh, okay! And natch, there was a huge, mongo
video screen that showed glorified commercials during the
interim. Lance Bass's new movie On the Line. Verizon
stuff (guess who the show's sponsor was?). The new album.
*Everything* was met with screams and cheers.
I myself was looking forward to Eden's Chush. You know, being
the Connoisseur Of Cheese that I am, and everything. But to
our dismay, Eden's Chush wasn't the first band to perform.
Or the second, or the third!
(...or the sixth, or seventh, or eighth...)
But we's getting ahead of ourselves….
The first band was The Not-So-Boy Band (their actual namewe
shit you not): four beefy dudes, featuring, um, Joseph Fatone
Senior. Yeah. Joey's dad.
I can't tell y'all how sorry I am that she's not making this
They were BAD. Not even good-badjust bad. Boring. Stale.
Thankfully, they only did four songs.
Seriously? It seemed so much longer!
Grim, wasn't it? Ugh! Then there was interminable babble by
a KIIS DJ before the next opening act, some Janet Jackson
wannabe with a troupe of dancers. And THEN it was some c(o)untry
singing chick from down-home-Mississippi-way whom Lance had
discovered and signed to his (c[o]untry!! ack!!) label. (FreeLance
Records. How cute. Free him from what, pray?) and what a coincidenceshe's
appearing on the soundtrack to that movie he's in! Isn't that
uncanny?! Onerous. And THEN it was some white guy (with a
troupe of dancers) making like a soulful black singer. He
was joined by some "famous" (read: who?) rap guy
who contributed mostly "Yeah, yeah"s and "Oh
yeah, oh yeah"s and "yo, yo"s to the songs.
*snicker* And THEN, finally, it was Eden's Chush.
WOO-HOO EDEN'S CHUSH!! I LOVE YOU!!! MARRY ME!!!
"KELLY'S PANTS ARE BUSTIN' FOR EDEN'S CHUSH!" *snicker*
They were craptastic.
Typical Taut Brown LA Girls (or approximating LA Girls) to
the nth degree, with their hip-hugger pants (acid-washed denim
is IN again, guys!) and boots and midriff-revealing tees and
Pop Star moves and everything. I'm particularly fond of the
hip-spanking move (where you pat the front part of your hip,
like, at your pelvic bone, while you sing. With your French-manicure-nailed
hand, natch). And after Eden's Chush, there was ANOTHER opening
act (!!): another Taut, Brown LA Girl with a hit song on KIIS
(can't remember her name *or* the song, right now), with a
troupe of dancers, and her very own MC: Lil' Bow Wow, who
must exist just to, like, introduce chick singers or something.
But finally, FINALLY, Rick "You Give Cheese a Bad Name"
Dees, in all his plastic-surgeried horror, came out to tell
us that the Boyz were on next: "I'm not into guys...but
I just saw the guys backstage...and they are LOOKIN' FINE!"
Um, SHUT UP, you moron!
So, since it was now dark, and since there had only been
about 10 minutes (if that) between opening acts, we must be
mere minutes away from *NSync, right?
As soon as Rick Dees left the stage, there appeared on the
giant video screen...a...countdown clock. For *thirty minutes*.
That time was packed with more commercials and footage of
the Boyz and all that as the stands continued to fill up.
Could not BELIEVE the masses of people...and all of them BEHIND
us!! "FRONT FUCKING ROW, BABY!" Many high-fives
were had and given. We are Lame... AND PROUD!
As we waited, every so often we'd see people grouping around
someone on the floor to take pictures. Kelly saw David Hasselhoff.
WAY behind us, or you *know* I'd've run to get my picture
taken with him.
Becuz you're a TOOL! And you ROOL! :) Some KIIS DJ was there.
And (we're pretty sure) Daisy Fuentes. And directly behind
us, in Row 2, was Kevin Farley (brother of the late Chris
Farley) - The Bald, Fat, Old Guy in MTV's fictional boy band,
2+Gether, from the MTV show of same name [THAT STOLE MY IDEAS
FROM MY 90210 BOY BAND PARODY ALMOST TWO YEARS EARLIER!!!!
*fume*]. WE had better seats than he did! Ha! Ha! Ha!