Only in NY

This week I went to two concerts in NYC.  Here's the story of number one:

On Monday, I went to see Alanis Morrisette at Terminal 5.  It was pretty darn crowded and all the early birds and fancy people, who had VIP passes, were able to see what was going on. I was just a regular girl who arrived on time.  Since I don't have a lot of friends who appreciate my taste in music - especially the "angry girl" artists that I tend to drift towards - I went by myself.

The funny thing is that I'm not generally an angry girl.  I'd consider myself experienced in life and, therefore, entitled to be me, but I'm not 'angry'.  There's something about "angry girl" music that connects me to them.  Maybe it's because we've all been there, regardless of our station in life.  And sometimes it's nice to think that even famous musicians get dumped.  I know there's a lot of music out there drafted by professional song writers but it's the singer/songwriter that I'm drawn to.  The rawness of the words.  The anger.  The desperation of wanting to be loved.  They write about it all.  They're different than country singer/songwriters who are more detailed about the events leading to their heartache.  "Angry chick" lyrics are all about saying eff you, you broke my heart and here's what's left.  Even the music that supports these words is pissed off.  Anyway, Alanis is undoubtedly the poster child for "angry chick" music - and I love her!

I walked into a sweltering, hot theater with very high ceilings and wrap-around balconies on 2 higher floors.  There was also an open-air rooftop bar that you were able to enjoy while you puffed your life away.  I wandered around from floor to floor to find a place to stand.  Unfortunately, there are a lot more Alanis fans than I thought there would be.  A large portion of them were gay men and younger females - straight and gay.  Some of the straight girls dragged poor, unsuspecting men with them.  This kind of annoyed me because these "non-fans" were taking up prime real estate at a concert for an artist that I was a fan of. These guys weren't interested in being there.  They were suffering through "pissed-off chick" tunes in order to get lucky.  They were most likely lured into going to the show by their whimpering GF who held booty over their heads - yes, heads.  Both of them.

Anyway, Alanis popped on stage after her husband "Souleye" performed.  Souleye?!  Really?! M.C. Souleye to be exact.  Girls were bouncing up and down and gay boys were whispering to each other about how excited they were to be there.  On the upper floors, people were trying to catch a glimpse of the stage by kneeling down to look between the legs of the early birds.  I'm sorry but I'm not getting on my knees for Alanis, or, in fact, any musician (ok.  I'll admit it - there is an exception, my love, Eddie Vedder).

I stood around, unable to see and listened to Alanis screech.  I started to feel way too hot (peri-menopause is awesome at a concert in a hot theater).  I walked to the back of the room and found the only cool place in the joint.  I hung out there for a few songs and then decided that since I wasn't actually witnessing the show, I might as well go up and check out the roof.  I was in the middle of NYC and it was surprisingly peaceful.  There were a handful of people quietly chatting and I was able to watch the concert on a tv.  It was like being at home - except that I don't watch that much tv and if I did, I wouldn't be watching a concert.  I decided to relax, suck it up and enjoy the cool air.  With that, some people walked through the door and, BAM!, the peaceful atmosphere immediately vanished.  One of the members of the group was clearly the "I have to be the center of attention" type.  He spoke loudly and flitted about making everyone aware of his presence - whether we liked it or not.  I tend to be a magnet that attracts annoying people, so, naturally, he made his way over to where I was quietly sitting.  He called his friends over.  Fortunately, they convinced him to join them on the other side.  The two boys next to me sighed with relief at the same time I did.  We smiled simultaneously when they left after they smoked a couple of cigarettes.

Towards the end of the show, a very drunk gay boy danced past me, saw what I was doing and sang "Did you forget about me, Mrs. Duplicity, I hate to bug you in the middle of texting."  I loved it.  We laughed in unison.  On his way back from the bathroom, "Rick" introduced himself and we chatted about something insignificant that made us laugh.  In a matter of seconds, I noticed a bitter-looking 50something year old woman standing over Rick. While clutching a red, medium sized Macy's shopping bag, she sneered at me.  Then, without moving her wrinkled, lipstick stained mouth, she scolded Rick for taking too long.  He smiled at me and said a quick good-bye.  I laughed, shook my head and thought "Only I can make a gay man's hag jealous".  Only in NY.  Only me!!