2004-04-04
10:03 p.m.

BEVR: LYNDA AND KAREN EH? / OMAHA: MARCH 24, 2004

AN EPIC TAIL OF WOOLY MAMMOTH PROPORTIONS

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In the wee hours of March 16th I sent Lynda the following email:

Subject: Thinking Outside of the Box or as we say in Halifax.....Duh!

Lynda:

Okay, I am nuts. Somebody please shoot me and put me out of my misery. I remember in my ticket quest today noticing that there are lots and lots of great floor seats available in Omaha for cheap. Well ticket broker cheap anyway....third rows for $125. I wonder if we could change the date of our flight to the 25th out of Chicago. It is 8.5 hours at 55 mph so say 7 hours and it's an easy drive. I've been there, its flat. I-80 all the way.....so we have one night in Omaha and the 24th is the concert. We could leave after the concert and drive back to Chicago and catch a plane out of there on the 25th. This way we are only a day later getting home.

Doing the math .... Concert ticket $125 US

Plane fare $ 52 CDN

Rental car + gas $100 US

And we have a couple more meals .... Say $30 US

So in conclusion....about $400CDN more

And considering that for an upgrade in Chicago to the floor we are looking at $250 to $300 for the same concert and 7th row at that.....and to go to Seattle well....likely not an option for me in the grand scheme of things.....this looks good. Just need your opinion.....yes I know I am nuts! So if you would even consider this we need to find out if we can get a flight. This is the teenagery way to do things, right?

Okay.....I know, I know but those darn Omaha tickets have been dangling out there so long tormenting me.

Let me know what you find out or if you even want to do this and we can discuss tomorrow.

Goodnight.....can you tell I had coffee?

Karen

I must be way more persuasive than I thought. Lynda calls back first thing in the morning and tries to talk some sense into me with the words, "I am SO there!" She also has taken the next step and has the Aeroplan rep on the phone holding new reservations for us. The change is a little bit more involved than I thought it would be and darn it all if it didn't mean that we would be gone two extra days instead of one. Mr. K'eh isn't home to disagree, the air miles tickets are on hold and there are those oh so wonderful third row tickets for $125. What to do...what to do? Hmmm...Only one thing to do and that's book it! A word to the wise and the frugal.......Never look to a co-dependent for reason and sanity.

According to our original plan, Lynda and I would fly to St. Louis for Broadfest on a Saturday and on Monday take the Amtrak to Chicago, go to the concert there and then fly home Wednesday. We would have a whole day of shopping in Chicago. Somehow in the course of a conversation or two the idea of making another trip came up and we tossed around the idea of flying to the west coast to take in the concerts in Seattle and Spokane. Out of all of this mental wheeling and dealing came the seed of a really plausible idea.....why not Omaha? Well, I can think of a dozen reasons off the top of my head but Omaha had some advantages. It was within driving distance of Chicago, the dates worked out and there were really good seats available. Who would notice if we just tacked on a day or two at the end of the trip? Not Mr. K'eh, surely.....I am convinced he has a girlfriend because he hasn't protested too much as of yet. Well, I guess that's fair. With any luck, Lynda will find an inflatable doll that bears a passing resemblance and no one at work will be the wiser.

Welcome to the United States of America

Lynda: I arrived at Toronto airport to check-in for my flight to St. Louis. I checked in and got in the snaking line that led up to the U.S. Customs and Immigration pre-clearance area. I arrived at the front of the line and the agent standing there asked me to go and see Immigration agent # 5, a young, uniformed man in his twenties.

The exchange went something like this...

Immigration Officer: Where are you going?

Me: (handing him my passport) St. Louis

#5: When are you returning?

Me: On Friday, March 26th.

#5: Are you going anywhere else besides St. Louis?

Me: Yes sir, I'm going to Chicago and to Omaha.

#5: Why are you going there?

Me: I'm going to a concert in each city.

#5: Who are you going to see?

Me: Clay Aiken

#5: (with a look of disbelief!) You're kidding, right?! My fianc� went to Columbus last week to see him! I think you're all crazy!

Me: (with a big grin!) Not me! I really LIKE your fianc�!

#5: (stamp, stamp, stamp) Go on......have a good time.

I proceeded into the departure area to wait for Karen, whose flight still hadn't arrived from Halifax.

Karen: I deplaned in Toronto and claimed my big purple suitcase. I am concerned about its contents and do not wish to be busted for Clack dealing at the border. I doubt if they'll believe me when I tell them I am not a big time Clack dealer.....I only carry for the special occasions and I'm as nervous as h*ll.

I end up in a snake line and wend my way to the front. I wonder if Lynda might be in the same line and study all of the women in the line to see if I can spot one who might be her. It isn't very long before I am confronted with the prospect of being "Next?" and before I have time to get my story straight in my mind or swallow the contents of my suitcase, I am face to face with a nice young man in his twenties. I notice he has spiky hair....why do I remember that! My sweaty palms present him with my passport. He inquires where I am bound...OMG "bound"....I am so busted! I tell him St. Louis. He asks me if I am staying in St. Louis or traveling to other places while in the US. I tell him that I am also going to Chicago and Omaha. "The purpose of my visit".....he keeps probing. I decide to fess up because no one is ever going to think that a middle aged woman traveling to a Clay Aiken concert would be a smuggler. Much to my surprise he rolls his eyes and shakes his head and says, "I don't believe you are going to see that guy. Are you serious?" He is shaking his head and rolling his eyes and stamping my papers. "What is it with you people anyway? Go ahead." He waves me in with a flick of his wrist. In the departure lounge I finally meet Lynda and learn that she, too, was admitted by Agent #5.

Planes, Trains and Automobiles

Karen: In order to get to Omaha from Canada one often has to make a few stops along the way. This trip was no exception. We spent a wonderful weekend in St. Louis at Broadfest and did manage to make it to the train station, Monday, in one piece and on time (more than can be said for the train itself, by the way). There we met Maylon, Genevieve, Paula, Diana, and Merry who would be our companions for the Chicago version of this adventure. The train ride provided some much needed rest and relaxation after the frenzied activities of Broadfest. But all too soon we were in Chicago and had to say our goodbyes to Merry. Not saying that any of us are a bad influence on the other BUT we were unable to convince Merry to sneak out of the station with us and go to the Chicago concert.

We only have time to check into our hotel, prepare for the concert, and head out to the United Center in time to grab a bite of the most expensive arena chow ever slung across a counter. Allison finds us as we poke back our hot dogs over trash cans and shows us the "Cha Cha" shoes she bought. (Yes, Erin, she got the black ones with the purple stitching!)

Lynda and I had those great side stage seats that allow you a close up view of the stage but also deliver the "Jumbotron Effect" in all its glory......Hallelujah! We won't go into all the details of the Chicago concert here but we had an encounter in the bathroom that was just too hilarious to omit.

Lynda: In the Ladies restroom at the United Center, during Kelly's set... Karen and I are just about to leave when we make the acquaintance of Jaime & Brie. They're about 12 years old, adorable, they're on some kind of an ultra-sugar high and they're outfitted from head to toe with the latest in Clayfashion. They assault Karen & me...

Are you Claymates?

Well, um.......sort of......... I guess we are...... (Come on now people they were twelve, okay?)

We share a group hug at their insistence and it feels kind of okay to be included in the fold.

Either Jaime or Brie (because we never did find out who was who) says...

"OK, this is gross.......but do you ever look at his butt?"

Both Karen & I are surprised and trying so hard not to burst out laughing, but we nod our heads in unison, and think... "What's gross about it?!"

Jaime or Brie then continued......"Do you ever look for Waldo?"

It's a good thing we were in a bathroom, and not holding a beverage!! That was a spew-worthy question, coming from a 12 year old. But we showed incredible maturity and restraint. At this point, a mom approaches the girls, and Karen & I figure it's probably best not to introduce ourselves as Lecherous Broads. We may need the bail money later so we take our leave of Jaime and Brie. Time for another beer and as we sit by the concourse we see our young friends prowling the arena on a mission to hug every Claymate they find.

OMG.....OMG.....They Have Dove Bars!

Tuesday morning we realize we will be saying more of those dreaded goodbyes. This time it will be Maylon, Gen, Paula, and Diana. And as anxious as we are to get on the road we are in no hurry to go. We dawdle over breakfast, entice strangers to take a group picture and finally take our leave around 11:30.

Lynda: According to Mapquest, it's a seven hour drive between the Hyatt Chicago and the Best Western in downtown Omaha. What we only understood afterwards is that Mapquest calculates driving time in American hours. HA! Seven hours American is apparently equivalent to eleven hours Canadian!

Mapquest didn't take into account the additional time required by a Canadian faced with the enormous selection of pre-packaged snack foods not available north of the border, yet found in all of the truck stops along the freeway. Mapquest never considered the reaction of two Canadians to the sight of a red and white "bull's eye" sign spotted far off in the distance, while traveling at 90 MPH on the I-80 in Iowa (I wish people would stop picking on my driving). In unison, we screamed: Taaaaaaaaaaaaaaar-g�!!! Oh, the desperation of 2 Canadian women living in a Target-free zone!

We had to stop! What else could we do?

Groundhog Day

Karen: By the time we finally reached Omaha it's almost midnight. The sidewalks had been properly stowed for the night and if it weren't for the hooker in the doorway of our hotel, I'd swear the city was deserted. We checked in and about ten minutes later we were back in the car seeking better accommodations. Who would have thought that better accommodations were no where to be found in Omaha? It really wasn't all that bad...really....it just wasn't quite what we were used to. I mean, they probably have hookers at the Hyatt and the Sheraton, too. They're just more expensive is all.

Wednesday is a busy day. I have to finish the hand sewing on the quilt for Clay and Lynda is going to decorate Jacob's "Dance Captain" hat. We are going to make a couple of signs and then head off at to the fan party at the Spaghetti Works. We get everything but the signs completed by the midday and decide to leave "our" hotel and find a place for lunch. The Sheraton just around the corner has a caf� and we decide to eat there. The whole place, lobby and restaurant are deserted. Is there anyone else but us in Omaha?

We are having a lovely time over lunch.... enjoying the ambience of the caf� and each other's company. We are excited because we have just decided to go to the concert in St. Paul and Lynda managed to book our flights between mouthfuls of salad. I will always remember that I was bemoaning the charges I made to my Visa card last year to get to Seattle. I had just uttered the following sentence: "By the time the US was converted to Canadian those tickets were $%^& for the two of us."

Lynda uttered this in reply: "Mluh......mluh.....mluh" I looked at her and quickly ran the procedure for the Heimlich Maneuver through my head. I followed the direction of her fork and there he was... only twenty feet away on the other side of the half wall.....a slim figure in a dark grey hooded sweatshirt....his head was bent and he carried a white backpack. We couldn't see it at the time, but when he exited the lobby into the street we saw a small brown dog on a leash. Clay entered the Sheraton shuttle bus, walked to the back, and took a seat. A few minutes later Kelly came out through the lobby alone, wearing a bucket hat, and pulling her own carry-on luggage. As Lynda and I sat there in shocked disbelief, Clay's bodyguard stopped at the front desk and checked out. Lynda and I were the only two people in the small hotel lobby or restaurant area other than the waiter and the desk clerk. No one but us saw them leave and it took us a few minutes to assimilate what we had just seen, it was so unexpected. We just sat there and looked at each other, and when the shuttle pulled away we ordered more coffee and wished we had a cigarette.

The immediate aftermath of our kind of close encounter is a bit of a blur. It was very surreal to witness the "sneaking out of the hotel under cover of a hoodie." Thank goodness it was a warm day in Omaha. If this had taken place back home our tongues would still be affixed to the brass plates on the door. Let's see he had the dog leash in his left hand so he had to push on this one.

We had a few more errands to do that afternoon and next on the agenda was to drive over to the Qwest Center to figure out a plan for delivering the St. Louis quilt. There didn't appear to be any good options for an afternoon drop off so we decided to go early to the concert and deliver it then. Back at the hotel we got so involved in sign making and beautifying that we missed the party at the Spaghetti Works.

Our main concern when we arrived at the arena was whether or not we would be asked to leave our deliveries on a gift table. We had heard that this was the procedure at some of the venues and had no intention of leaving the quilt there. If necessary we would drive to the next venue and try there.....honest. Luckily the table set up at the entrance to the Qwest center wasn't for bag searches or anything like that. It was where you got your Budweiser bracelet.....something you needed in order to buy beer inside. Wow!! Did we make a wrong turn and end up back in Canada? Um....nope.....we passed a Target on the way here.

Did we mention we had third row seats? We were there very early and found those awesome seats. It was now time to figure out how to get the quilt backstage to Clay. None of the arena security guys looked like the right candidate. We looked for the bodyguard and wished Jerome wasn't on vacation. On the way to the concessions we noticed that the bodyguard was sitting in the floor seats at the back corner of the arena talking to a highly decorated arena security guy. This was our opportunity!

Lynda has to do all the talking because I am gutless and extremely shy in certain situations. Lynda gets their attention, opens the bag and shows them the contents. The highly decorated arena guy says he is the head of security and he will most definitely take the quilt back to Clay before the show. He asks if my name and information are inside because he is likely going to want to thank me for it and will need to know how. Hmmm.....I can think of a couple of ways how.....but I forgot to mention them in the card I included. I am so slow....oh...and like I said... gutless, too.

Whew!! Mission accomplished...time for a beer, eh? I am almost to the bottom of my glass when I realize that I left the purple tie tassels I had planned to tie as a bow on the handles of the bag inside the bag. Oh dear...two purple tassels connected together with a three foot length of purple satin rope. It just occurred to me that there might be Freudian implications here......is it possible that the left brain no longer knows what the right brain is doing? You don't suppose he thought I wanted to do more than tie the curtains back with it do you? EEEK!!!

When We Came ...or....What We Came For .....or.... Why We Came......

Lynda: It's been said that, generally speaking, Canadians are rather polite. In fact, with all due respect, in my humble opinion, in a "politeness" face-off (please note the hockey reference, eh?), Omahaians...er... Omahahans.... Um....Omahaters......oh....people from Omaha have Canadians beat, hands down!

Everywhere Karen & I went, people were just so polite and well, they also seemed just a bit reserved (although, don't ask Karen about the Post Office employee ... we think he was an implant, definitely NOT from Omaha!). As we walked into the Qwest Center, bearing our gifts, even the Budweiser Beer bracelet banders were outrageously polite! When they beer-banded my wrist, they politely declined my offer to show them my photo ID.

Once comfortably seated, we looked around. It was a smallish crowd - the floor and lower bowl were nearly full, and they blacked out the upper levels.

Somehow, this crowd just wasn't the same crowd we were used to in St. Louis or in Chicago. People seemed kind of timid, sitting in their chairs, with their ankles crossed and their hands folded politely in their laps. There was also fair representation of plaid shirts and John Deere ball caps.

Were we in the right Arena? Where were the purple shirts? Where were the tiaras? Why are we the only ones with tassels? Is this crowd going to bestow upon Clay the love and adoration he so rightly deserves?

In a word - yes. We just didn't realize it right away! Those people from Omaha were just full of pleasant surprises!

As the sound system began to play Outkast's "Hey Ya", we veteran concert-goers knew that the show was about to begin!

Kelly's up first. Karen & I both agree that Kelly has grown on us from concert to concert. We decide that we like her. We really, really like her!

When the house lights dim, and the back-up singers and the band take their spots, the crowd is already on their feet, facing the back of the Arena. The first notes of Kyrie begin, and thousands of pairs of eyes are darting from side to side, up and down, back and forth, frantically searching for the entry point.

Every Epic Needs A Poem

The fugly jacket stayed on all night,
The hair was good, the stubble light.

The voice was strong and deep and clear,
Only once did helium Clay appear.

"When I Need You" words were again forgot,
An electronic thong made him giggle a lot!

Too far from the catwalk, we sat in disgust,
When not a single cell phone at him was thrust!

So "Happy Birthday", instead, was his tune of choice,
It sounds so good in Clayton's voice.

We tried to make it OUR birthday too,
But we were lying, and we think he knew!

When Doves Cry was tamer than that in St. Loo.
We loved our perspective for I Survived You

And then, it was over, we were sad and depressed.
But take a break... then keep reading, 'cause this part's the best!!

Karen: Okay, has anyone been to a concert yet with a companion who brings blank poster board and sharpies with them in a shopping bag? Well, that's what mine did in Omaha. In addition to the pre-made beauties she carried in with her Lynda had stowed some blank ammo so she would be prepared if inspiration struck during the show. Too bad she was inspired to dub me the "Quilt Lady" and was determined that everyone in the arena should know it.

She bent over and started digging through her bag during "Perfect Day". I am trying to keep my attention on the stage but am getting really distracted wondering what in the heck is she doing with her head in the shopping bag. She is missing some really good stuff on stage and I am about to apply my left boot to her shin when she surfaces, sharpie in hand. With the most mischievous of grins, she sits down, bends over the poster board and begins to write. I am beginning to get a little worried here. When her sign is complete, she shows me what it says. "QUILT LADY" and it has an arrow pointing in my direction. Uh....no, I don't think so.....She raises the sign.......I pull it down by the corner.......she raises the sign again and so it goes. Up and down and I am frantically whispering for her to "cut it out:" I express murderous intentions, I sit down but that means the poor sixteen year old girl next to me is now the "QUILT LADY".

Had I brought my own extra poster board I would have been able to fight back. How would you like this one, Lynda? "SHE VOTED FOR RUBEN"......and, oh yeah.....there's an arrow.

The Dance Captain .....Part I

LyndaNow we need to back up a little bit here and set the stage for this part.......

On Monday evening, following the show in Chicago, we were lucky enough to run into Jacob. He was kind enough to pose for a group picture with 5 Lecherous Broads. Unfortunately, the bad combination of inadequate camera, and a kind security guard with an unsteady hand, made for a very blurry, but what we thought was a salvageable photo.

We thought, let's blow this picture up, make several copies, and somehow, figure out a way to get Jacob to autograph them for us.

Like Lucy & Ethel plotting to meet a famous Hollywood legend, we begin to plan. How can we get Jacob's attention? How do we get the Chicago photo to him?

Jacob is the Dance Captain. Clay called him that in St. Louis, and really teased him about it in Chicago. We know! Why don't we get him a Captain's hat!? Throw it up onto the stage!! Attach the photo to it!!

Step 1

Find a Captain's hat. In a mall. In Iowa. Landlocked Iowa. A captain's hat...

OK, quick change of plans. It doesn't necessarily have to be a captain's hat. We could find an alternative to a Captain's Hat, and create something nautical.

Step 2

Print & enlarge digital picture. Note to self - a picture that appears blurry on the 1" x 1" digital camera view-screen will appear even blurrier when printed out on a 5" x 7" print at Walgreen's Kodak Picture Maker machine.

Step 3

Start over. We take an emergency meeting and a decision is made. Move forward with the hat and scrap the photo idea.

We purchased a brimmed hat. It's white cloth with a red & blue band that encircles the hat, just above the brim. It's a blank canvas, just waiting to be decorated. We purchased the supplies necessary to create a captain's hat like no other!

The morning of the concert, as Karen is adding the finishing touches to the quilt, I'm making the captain's hat. On the front, in black sharpie, I write, "Dance Captain". On the back of the hat, I write "Jacob". Inside the hat, along the brim, I add "With love, Lynda & Karen / Canada". I stitch on a couple of gold stars and a gold eagle. The dance captain's hat is complete.

Signs are made, hat's complete, quilt is finished and beautifully packaged, and we're off to see Clay! From our third row seats! Close to the stage. And easily within hat throwing range!

Clay is singing WDC. The concert's nearly over. There's such a mix of emotion at this point... so happy to be there, so sad it's nearly over... but wait... he hasn't said anything about Jacob the Dance Captain! Oh no! Next song is the last song before Open Arms, and I don't want to throw the hat during "The Way"!

So, as the last strains of WDC fade off into the Arena, and the crowd is roaring, I take aim. We're in the third row from the stage. We're on the right-hand side of the stage. If I'm VERY accurate, I can, with any luck, get this sucker to land bang on the microphone stand. Ideally, it will land on Jacob's microphone stand, but hey, I'd be OK with it landing on a mike stand belonging to Quiana or Angela too!

Being a vertically challenged person, that stage seems a little higher than I anticipated during my practice throws at the Best Western. Should I ask the gentleman in front of me to throw the hat? After all, he's one row closer. NO! I can do this.

In my head, I hear the music from Rocky. "Dah, dah, daaaaaah.... Dah, dah daaaaah" With the hat firmly gripped in my right hand, I reach across my left shoulder, then bring it back across my body at shoulder height. I thrust my arm forward, all the while my eyes focused on Jacob's microphone stand. No really, I mean the microphone stand. At the critical moment, I release the hat.

Thinking back, had I released just a tad prematurely, this story would have had a much happier ending.

As it happened, I followed through just a little bit too far... The hat sailed across the right corner of the stage (but oh man, did I get height on that sucker!), and it hit the soundman in the back of the head. Did I mention that the sound man does NOT sit on the stage? Oh no... he sits on the floor beside the stage, to the right. The uninjured soundman picked up the hat, and set it down on the corner of the giant speaker located at the front of the stage. Not ON the stage, in front of the stage.

By now, Clay is sitting on the speaker that's on the stage, singing "The Way". He's sitting on the speaker that's directly in front of us! Karen is peeking through heads to try to locate where the hat finally ended up. We are trying really hard to pay attention to Clay's next to last song in our next to last concert and trying so very hard not to laugh. The harder we try the harder it becomes. To this day, Karen swears she has never seen anything funnier than that hat sailing in all its glory into concert clack oblivion.

OK, now I'm kind of embarrassed....... mostly because I've now got this giant capital "L" tattooed on my forehead. And no...... it does not stand for "Lynda".

The show is over, and we've now regained slight control of ourselves. As the performers are exiting through the curtain, stage right, I spot the hat. It's in the soundman's hand, and it's being handed to someone else. Success! Has the hat made its way to Jacob?

Shall We Stay and Play or Grab a Coffee?

Karen: For some reason we felt there was a better chance of seeing the performers leave the venue on their busses than there was of finding a late night coffee shop in Omaha. We sat in the car for a bit...ate an entire bag of Pecan Sandies.....then drove around to the back of the arena. We could see the busses parked at the other end of the lot but we were turned around by security and directed to another lot where we could park the car, and then line up along a fence with a small group of fans who felt likewise about their chances of finding coffee.

We are a nice bunch of folks and number about 50. There are a few fans with signs, fans for both Clay and Kelly, and some families with children. The security guards are enjoying some playful banter with the crowd and the only rule is, "Stay on the Dirt". The Qwest Center is brand new and as of yet not landscaped. The driveways, curb and gutter are all in place but where there will someday be grass is now only mounds of fresh topsoil.....something that will play into our hands later. There a few people milling around near the busses. We spot Angela who gets on a bus and Jacob who is hanging around outside.

The Dance Captain....Part II

Lynda: Jacob is enjoying the attention of the crowd outside the buses. He's dressed casually ......sweat pants and a sleeveless FBI T-shirt. He's exchanging pleasantries with the small crowd, but despite the pleas, he won't come much closer than he is - maybe 100 feet from the barrier .

We need to find out if he got the hat.

Karen....on the count of three let's yell..... "Jacob how'd you like your new hat?"

Jacob turns towards us and asks "Who threw that hat?" We raise our arms, and shout "We did!! We did!!"

He shouts across..... "Were you in Chicago?" We holler back that yes indeed, we were!

He yells back "That is the BEST! HAT! EVER!"

We "woohooed", and Jacob ran back onto the bus. He came out moments later sporting our hat, and he danced for us in front of the bus! I tried to take a picture, but it was so dark and he was so far away.

"Jacob, come closer. I want a picture!"

But, he wouldn't. So I snapped a couple of pictures anyway. They're dark, they're blurry, but if you look very, very carefully, you can make out a white smudge of a hat sitting proudly on the head of Clay's Dance Captain!

Karen: Lynda and I are ecstatic that Jacob has gotten his hat and he likes it!! Our night is made but we decide to wait around a while longer and maybe get a glimpse of Clay getting on his bus even though the security people say he has already left. (Buddy, I have been to enough of these concerts now to know you are telling me one big fat lie.....um....no offense eh?) We just don't want to go back to the hotel and say this night is over. We wait almost another hour until we spot a group of four people crossing the parking lot from the arena to the busses. One of them has a small dog on a leash and he is carrying a white backpack. He goes directly to the second bus and disappears inside. The funny thing was everyone noticed the dog first. Clay was almost on the bus before any of us realized it was him. We were too busy ooh-ing and awing over the cute little dog......and saying, "Look there's Raleigh!" Finally someone woke up and said, "It's HIM."

Karen says... "Be Still My Heart or He Might Drop You"

After a few minutes the most unbelievable thing happens. Clay gets back off the bus and with one bodyguard trailing behind he bounds, in generous strides, across the parking lot toward the fence. His blue plaid jammie pants are flapping against his legs. He is wearing a grey pullover "Nebraska" hoodie and has sneakers on his feet. I am standing in the dirt on my side of the fence about a third of the way up. He starts at the end of the waist high fence to my right where Lynda is still standing and he is taking the hands of everyone there who extends one. His voice is strong and clear. He says, "Hi, How are ya'?" and "Thank you very much" and "How ya' doing?" I tell myself to concentrate.....HARD! He will be here in a few seconds. Think in slow motion and don't blink. Oh my Gawd!!! He is almost here! He is beautiful! His face is clear of make up and full of freckles, his hair is still spiked and he is grinning from one delectable ear to the other. He seems genuinely happy and he looks very young.

As he comes to me I extend my right hand and he takes it. At that very moment the earth moves.....but not under me.....under him.....and he stumbles. I believe he stepped in a hole in the uneven soil and he lost his balance. He says, "Whoa! Look what you're doin' to me!" and he reaches out instinctively to save himself and grabs my other hand. Well, I'll never have to worry again about what I would say to Clay Aiken on the occasion of our first meeting because I said this..... "Whoops".... which is appropriate for the circumstance but only slightly better than "Whoopsie Daisy." I guess it's a lot more family friendly than, "What wouldn't I like to do to you?" and dang if I didn't miss my chance to haul him over the fence. But I did get a few more seconds of contact than I thought I would. I got to hold both of his hands in mine, VERY VERY tightly and look straight into those eyes when I did so. I passed my heart over the fence to him just like Pats surrendered hers in Cleveland...... Whoops, indeed!

I looked down the fence to my right for Lynda but she's gone. She was just there a minute ago. Did she vaporize when he touched her or did she slip away in the confusion and sneak on the bus? I look down on the ground and I see no puddles of liquid pooling in the dirt. I conclude she has made a run for the bus and hope it was me who last had the keys for the car.

Would Lynda Get on the Bus and Leave Karen Stranded?

I was standing on the dirt and there was a young boy about twelve standing in front of me. I thought.... there's all this room on the paved part of the road, just inches from the dirt. And, from there, I can stand at the fence without anyone in front of me. Timidly, I set one foot, then both feet, down on the pavement. Within seconds I hear a rather large security guard's booming voice "Back on the dirt!" I'm a little mortified... I've been caught. Well, I'm nothing if not obedient, so I step back up onto the dirt, behind the young man.

Somewhere, in the back of my mind, I heard voices. The voices were saying, "There he is." and "He's coming!" I was in the infamous and familiar Clay-induced hypnotic state. I should have known this would happen. I stood like an ancient Greek statue, riveted to the dirt, behind the young boy. Clay walked right up to that young man, held out his hand and grabbed the young man's hand, looked him in the eyes and asked "Hey buddy, how ya doin'?" Somehow, the sound of his voice snapped me out of my stupor! He was proceeding along the row of adoring fans, to his right, holding hands, making eye contact, and quickly moving far away from me! Oh no - did I miss my chance? Now that I was semi-conscious again, I quickly scoured the crowd along the fence, on the dirt. I saw my spot, in the distance. That empty spot by the fence had my name on it - it was calling me! I made a run for it and I got there before Clay or any other fan did!

Note - I referred to my "semi-conscious" state. Unfortunately, I never did regain full consciousness in Clay's presence. Had I done so, I would have had the foresight to grab my camera and take some wonderful close-up pictures of that make-up free, freckled face. But, like I said, rational thought was not an option at the time.

However, he did take my right hand firmly in his grip, smiled, and sweetly said, "Hey, how are you?" I actually remember replying, "You were great tonight, Clay!" He said, "Thanks", and then moved on to the person to my left. There were three or four more people for him to stop and greet, and then he turned and walked back to the bus. I shouted out "Thank you, Clay." And so followed the rest of the crowd. Clay turned, smiled and waved before getting on the bus.

Karen: It is almost midnight when we leave "The Parking Lot of Dreams Come True." We are totally blown away by what happened and cannot believe what kind of a magical day this has been. Later Lynda would say, "I wish this could be Groundhog Day...like in the movie." No kidding, eh?

Now is the time for that cup of coffee and maybe some supper. It's time to talk about this and figure out a plan. We are two days and an untold number of public washrooms away from home. We have one washable hand between us.

Something physical transpired that night back in Omaha. We couldn't quite put our finger on it at the time but the signs were there. The first thing we did after we left the "Parking Lot of Dreams Come True" was find a restaurant where we ordered a huge plate of natchos and a pizza. We hardly ate any of it. The next day, on the way back to Chicago, we sampled cookies and other assorted baked goods from every truck stop we saw....we didn't pass one. We were never hungry but we couldn't stop stuffing our faces. The back of the car was littered with Krispy Kreme bags, potato chips, candy bars, cellophane wrappers from cookies, and a few apples that rolled around on the floor..... just for show.

Should a state trooper pull us over, we would be in serious trouble.

"No, officer that white powder on the floor.....nothing but sugar from donuts...really!"

"Yes, officer, I know people tend to overindulge in the sweet stuff when they've had a few hits off the bong."

"No, officer, this is depression......seriously.....serious depression. We never laid a finger on the bong......honest!"

Sign Here and The Deputy Will Release Your Belongings, Ma'm.

Now Lynda had this thing about signs. She kept seeing signs everywhere and she did a bang up job of picking them out with her 20/20 hindsight. We found a heads up penny by the car in the just regular parking lot of the Qwest Center.

Some of the signs were a little bit frightening .....like this one.

Mostly because it hung outside the doorway of the ladies restroom in an Iowa McDonalds and we were in there taking pictures.....in that restroom. Kind of tough to explain but.....what would you have done in the same circumstance? Some photo opportunities present themselves only once.

Some of the signs were very apropos......

If a Customs Officer writes "86" in the upper right corner of your declaration....that's a sign that your luggage is about to be searched and you'd better be prepared to keep a straight face and tell him your clack is worthless when really it means more to you than anything else in your suitcase.

In light of my ignoble welcome back into Canada I am so glad we didn't go back to the Qwest Center and do what we thought would be a really cool thing to do....make plaster casts of the dozens of perfectly formed sneaker prints left in the fresh topsoil of the "Parking Lot of Dreams Come True". We thought they would make the coolest gifts for Broadfest next time 'round. To this day I try not to think about how we left them behind to be washed away by spring rain. **Sniff**.

By the way, due to the latest sign and not to mention our respective ages, Lynda and I will be needing lots of rest in the coming months. We will definitely have to eat better. The cravings for donuts now make perfect sense.

Karen Jr	Lynda Jr	Clayton Jr

Lynda and Karen Eh?

Photo Enhancements by Lila

Best Evah Example of the "Jumbotron Effect" from Spotlightlover of the Clackhouse.......Gasp!!

Many Thanks to Beth (The Friggin' Wax Goddess) for taking our picture with Clay and sharing. (When we got home we read you were in Row 4, but when we saw that picture we knew you were right behind us and we never got to meet you! And we apologize for the fight over the sign.......don't we Lynda?)