When word
spread that The Manly Men were coming to town, the fans knew they had to do the
whole kit’n’kaboodle on that one. The
best concert package was VIP Ultra, which many found to be worth the steep
price: after all, the group was the biggest thing to hit this burb since…
Elvis. Or maybe even James Brown.
The concertgoers
arrived at the venue having to navigate the treacherous maze of parking
lots. Coming alone was the better to
take it all in, but the worse to navigate.
Approaching two boys wearing the clothing of arena employees and playing
soccer, the most popular response to the question of where to park was: “Just
leave it up there”, with an arm thrown in the direction of a hill. The second most popular response was:
“There’s a concert tonight?!”
Caveat: there
was a difference between the VIP package and VIP parking, meaning
the purchase of the former did not equal the purchase of the latter. When no other lot in sight appeared to be
open, though, you took your chances, and some potential poor sap’s spot.
Check-in for the
Very Important People was at 1400 hours.
Arriving half an hour before that time, one was greeted by a long line
of the adoring. There was a grand
collection of T-shirts, creative signs, and cocktail dresses. Some unhappy male faces were sprinkled
throughout, revealing themselves to be devoted boyfriends. One man on the line looked happy: he wanted
to be there. Oh yes he did.
The line-waiters
eventually were bestowed with the sacred talisman of the VIP, which would be
added to collections everywhere. The
exuberance of the crowd gradually shifted to concerned annoyance as the wait
time encroached upon the pre-paid special time with The Men. Would the fans not receive the full
experience owed to the VIP? Would they
need to demand a refund mightily, and post complaints online nastily? It almost seemed that this would be. Several people on the line relaxed on their
beach chairs and finished the novels they had brought for just such an
occasion. Meanwhile, plans to storm the
gates were underway, and grappling hooks were prepared. A party was in place to fire its human
cannon when the gate opened for a VIP group, one that somehow ranked above
Ultra. There was an unusually large
number of people who were special that day – maybe everyone attending was, in
fact, a Very Important Person.
The remaining
groups then rushed the gates – what about the lines? A sense of order needed to be restored, and quickly. Event staff members understood the danger
they were in and began calling groups in the proper order, three hours after
their initial arrival. There was a
nagging suspicion that the band members were still sleeping on their bus when
the VIPs first had arrived – those who had that thought kept it to themselves,
so as not to ruin it for everyone.
As the first
line advanced to a new line, the sunburns advanced to second degree. There were many notes to self: next time,
bring a hat.
The staff guided
the line-waiters to the main audience seats, where The Men could be seen closer
than they would be four hours from then, during the actual show. The individual band members then slowly and purposefully trickled out to the main stage, turning on the audience’s
screams as each one arrived. Four men
made up The Manly Men – Michael, Andy, Sandy, and Luke – but Luke was missing,
so Michael went backstage to retrieve him.
Not thinking, he brought his microphone with him, allowing everyone to
hear:
Michael: Hey man, it’s started, you gotta come out
now.
Luke: (sobbing)
I can’t do it, I just can’t face them anymore!
Michael: You
have to! Our salaries depend on it!
Luke: I can’t
take all the adoration! I can’t be on
all the time! Look at my hands – I
can’t stop shaking!
Michael: You
just need more of that energy drink. I
carry it in injectable form.
Luke: (sniffs)
OK. (Silence for a few seconds)
Whoo-hoo! I’m ready, world – come and
get me!
During this
exchange, the other two Men looked extremely uncomfortable and kept signaling
their handlers to go backstage, all the while trying to distract the VIPs by
performing gymnastics and their new stand-up comedy routine. Once all four of The Men were out on stage,
they opened up the floor to questions:
Fan 1: Will you
marry me?!
Andy: Which one
of us?
Fan 1: Any one!
Fan 2: This is a
question for Michael: when you sing in C-minor during a song written for the
D-major scale, do you find your emotions nearer to the surface, or have you
decided to finally change key to explore your range in both the upper and lower
registers?
Michael:
(blinks) That’s two questions! Next!
One fan shot her
hand into the air and jumped in her seat, right next to the handler holding the
microphone. She stood and pointed to
Sandy.
Experienced VIP:
Hi, this question’s for you: I go around collecting VIP packages on concert
tours, so what I really want to know, is your name J.J., or is it Ryan?
Poster boards
pelted her back into her seat. Barring
the wrong names, it was a legitimate question – Andy and Sandy are identical
twins, and everyone claims to be able to tell them apart. There is an underground theory that they
constantly switch during performances to see if anyone notices.
This special
group was then herded to the final line to obtain the much-sought-after photo
with The Men. The feeling was akin to
waiting in line for the Ferris wheel at an amusement park. One fan left an offering of gold upon the
altar positioned next to The Men, which was nice. Another fan tried to sneak off into the bushes with Luke; he was
rescued by Security, and the fan was tossed into the arms of the righteously
indignant crowd. The number of those on
line reached into the lower hundreds, but all felt that ultimate goal was worth
the wait.
When it was the
experienced VIP’s turn, she was the only one who did not need to be revived by
the paramedics before approaching The Men.
Handler: You can
shake hands down the line and pose for the photo.
Experienced VIP:
Thanks, but the drill’s the same at all these things. (Shaking Michael’s hand) Great job, guys. (Shaking Andy’s hand) Keep up the good work.
Sandy: (Shaking
the VIP’s hand) By the way, my name is Sandy.
Experienced VIP:
I will never remember that!
Luke: (Shaking the
VIP’s hand) Hi.
Experienced VIP:
You poor dude, they always stick you at the end.
Photographer:
Who would you like to stand next to?
Experienced VIP:
As with children, I do not have a favorite.
She crouched in
the middle of the group with her head thrown back, tongue out, and hands
forming “Y” in American Sign Language as the photo was taken.
Experienced VIP:
Thanks, guys! I only need 57 more of
these and then I can die!
She ran away
laughing, with her arms raised triumphantly in the air.
TO BE CONTINUED
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