Lecherous Broads For Clay Aiken!
Lecherous Broads for Clay Aiken!


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2003-09-03
9:20 p.m.

BEVR: Susan/East Rutherford, NJ

Venue: East Rutherford,NJ Continental Airlines Arena Date:7/30/03 (a

gorgeous,sunny Wednesday)Cast of Characters: Moi; my preteen son; a non-English speaking woman on corner and a nice young guy at a hotel desk....and of course, our Butterlove...and everyone else there. We located our centerfloor, row sixteen tickets by chance only two days prior. We actually GOT them just seven hours before showtime, via FedEx (wanted to kiss the deliveryman, but I think he sensed it, and ran off rather hastily) My son and I were armed with cameras, beverages, maps of the city and arena. Both dressed in red tees and jeans, carefully groomed,we looked each other over with the nervous anticipation usually reserved for an event such as a wedding or blind date. We were READY. Easy speeding down route 80 to E.Rutherford. The Meadowlands area has Giants Stadium, a racetrack, and the Airlines Arena...and a maze of roads. Missed my turn. Lost a halfhour. Asked a local woman standing on corner the way to arena.She shrugs "No Eeenngleesh". OK. Do some more loopdeeloos..."There it is! The arena!" my son yells while we're stopped on a cul-du-sac .There it is,ACROSS SOME HUGE BODY OF WATER! Is there a ferry or something? What's going ON? Will we have to prove our devotion to this cause via a swim, or what? (if I were to drown, I know the LAST person to come save me would be our darling Clay, so I nixed the swim idea). Squealed outta there, pointed in the general direction required to "almost get there".Stopped at a hotel, asked this nice young guy at desk how the heck to get across the dangblasted water. "Go out here,make a right, there's a bridge". THANK GOD ABOVE. While cresting the bridge,there we saw our destination, glowing white in the sun like a desert mirage. The rest was smooooth as butah,baby.

The air crackeled with collective anticipation as we milled about the inner corridors. Got to our seats, and they were GOOD. Center view, floor, 16 rows back (sounds far back, but the rows were so squished together, the bald guy in front of me is now bald elsewhere, I assure you). It was close enough to feel the heat on our faces from those huge flames onstage, even. The crowd was very friendly and willing to participate. Cheered for everyone. BUT, when Kim L. merely said one syllable, and HIS face came on the jumbotron, there was a volcanic ROAR(I felt so vindicated...I KNEW these sophisticated New Yorkers and jaded Jerseyans were here to see our darling,and only him!)

He came out in that classy suit, that hair, those mannerisms. He sang... something. I concentrated on watching him and snapping pictures between people's heads so darned much, I can't remember what he sang! I passed the whole night away in my private slap happy Shangrila. I smiled so much my face hurt the next day. There was no one else there but me and Clay...AND the woman next to me with BACKSTAGE PASSES! Apparently her daughter made a scrapbook for Clay, and they gave it to his body guard sometime that day(while they stalked the bus/stage or hotel area or something. They said the closest they had gotten to Darling that day was when they saw him in the backseat of a car as it zoomed from his hotel. How did they find out this stuff? Anyway, Clay evidently told his bodyguard (Jerome?) to give them these silvery wristbands which would allow them backstage. Of course, I became their best friend for the rest of the evening (although I was quite nice beforehand, as I was the first to make conversation,etc) I sweetly told the momma if she's allowed any lastminute guests to accompany her, PLEASE come and get me! She smiled sort of insincerely, and didn't say boo to me the rest of the night.Just clutched that arm with that dang glittering wristband, and kept to herself.If I had been in her shoes, I would at least have said, "Well, if I could bring you along,I certainly would" or SOMEthing a little comforting. Anything less than that is a mean thing to do to a fellow Claybabe, ya know?

SO, anyway. The last part of the show Clay wore a red, white and black NJ Devils shirt...which looked so soft and slightly billowy, we could have easily slid our loving hands beneath it, Broads. And could have felt the tension of the waistband of those pale bluejeans. Now THAT'S the outfit I want him in should I ever get him alone.

So casual, so wholesome. I'd put his feet up, lean him back, and FEED him fruit (I have said this before elsewhere, but I need to relive it again, if y'all don't mind) Grapes,one by one, fingertip to lower lip.....Oh, it's SO hot in here, I just might collapse. Could there possibly be a soft place to collapse on in here? Clay, you beautiful young thing, is there? If so, you take it from here,precious one. OH MAN! What I do to myself. But really, he is SO MUCH more than just sexy, and that is why he IS sexy. He doesn't try to be...he's just himself, a beautiful soul, and that's so rare in the celebrity realm. No one pushed him on us, asking us to buy whatever they would want him to pitch. He just walked in on his own accord, a brave little soldier, so vunerable, in front of those tough judges. And we CHOSE him...witnessed the evolution of a star, one who is so deserving of all the love, cheers and happiness we faithful voters/fans could possibly give him . I can't wait to be in the same room with him again. Even though there will probably be quite a few others there, and probably no soft place to collapse on,either.

Susan

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