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July 19, 2009

The Day After NKOTB

As it turns out, I was completely wrong about the New Kids on the Block concert last night, and the shrieking girls.

Before I even go on, a quick reminder that Jordan asked to go to this concert. As you read further, it's might sound like I bound and gagged three tween boys into going to this for my benefit. He asked, he likes their music and I could have thought of a million other ways to spend a Saturday night than held captive with thousands of screaming women.

We pull into the parking garage, and immediatly, all 4 of us know there is a problem. Already, there were hoards, and I mean HOARDS of women. Not a male of any make, age or model in sight.

Piling out of cars 4, 5 and 6 at a time.

There was a loud groan from all three of the boys at once, as if the realization of their worst nightmare was occuring.

I started to laugh loudly. I couldn't help it.

I guess they are too young to appreciate being surrounded by a bunch of women in skirts too short and tops too tight. Maybe my husband should have come after all?

Right about then, I informed them I had hidden undergarments in my purse to throw up on stage. They could not tell if I was kidding, no one was brave enough to look in my purse. Mean, I know, but I couldn't help it.

We got to our seats by 7, the show is supposed to start at 7:30, I'm thinking we are doing just fine. Except the opening act was late.

From 7 to 8, we sat and watched as group after group of mostly 30 year oldish women piled into their seats.

They came in groups.

They came, many of them, fairly intoxicated.

And they came in all sorts of clothes they had no business wearing.

The 4 girls in front of us a few seats to the right: matching pink tights that went to their knees, matching shredded pink 1990 ish NKOTB t-shirts they had apparently been saving for this moment. And matching side pony tails.

That seemed to be the dress code of the night-matching shirts, matching hair and alcohol.

And there I sat with the three boys.

They were not impressed at all, either.

They kept looking for other males to save them. Finally a few men showed up a few rows in front of us, clearly dragged there by their wives. But for the most part, this was sort of the opposite of the Superbowl.

Thousands of women. A man here or there, but that was it.

They kept looking at each other like, 'what have we done?'

Just as the boys were really re-thinking their decision to come to this show voluntarily, as if beckoned by some sort of male pre-teen God, three young 20ish girls come prancing down the aisle in front of us.

Three of them. Size 2 if they've eaten a Big Mac, really closer to size 0. Wearing skirts that didn't have enough material to one side of a normal tushie, much less the whole thing. Tops that were just as small. And carrying stadium size margaritas that were 18 inches tall.

And they plopped down right in the three seats in front of us.

Our night instantly got much more interesting. One of the boys suddenly had eyes as big as dinner plates as he tried to act cool and focus on his Iphone.

I'm sure he was texting something like, 'holy crap forget New Kids, wait till you see the babes who just sat down in front of us' to all the other 13 year boys in the greater Spring area.

I, on the other hand, am madly texting to my husband 'OMG. Those skirts are so freaking small. I only have two hands, if one of them bends over to pick up a penny, which kids eyes can I cover the quickest?' (Didn't wanna come to the show huh? See what ya missed!)

My concern shifted from looking for Donnie Walhberg to making sure these boys didn't go home and tell their moms they went to a peep show of some kind!

Opening act came and went, finally the New Kids come on stage and the boys stopped gawking at the private dancers they've been so lucky to sit behind.

I have been to many concerts in my 39 ish years. Madonna, Def Leppard, Bruce Springsteen...I cannot even remember them all. Lots of big name shows.

I have never, ever in my whole entire life heard anything like the shriek that started when they came on stage, and lasted the entire 90 minutes.

There really aren't words to describe how loud, high pitched, and non-stop it was. I really cannot explain it.

Nor can I explain how all these 30 year old women seemed to remember every single hand move, out stretched arm, or placement of hand over the heart, that the New Kids did in their old videos.

But there we were. Surrounded by thousands and thousansd of screaming, I mean shrieking, women, most of them re-enacting video movements from about 1991 that they must have practiced thousands of times as kids, and right before the show in the parking garage as well .

When Joey McIntyre sang 'Please Don't Go Girl,' I really thought we might need medics and fully expected one or two of these women around us to faint. Sheer pandemonium.

And as if that was not enough, as if the deafening roar of these women for 90 solid minutes was not enough, throughout the whole show, the 20 year old lap dancers in front of us gyrated and did things with their hips I cannot explain.

It got bad enough at one point with the hips gyrating that I thought, I might have to accidentally trip forward and spill this giant Dr Pepper on her to cool her off some. It was either that, or pour it on the boys to cool them off.

I think the boys were torn about who to watch. Cute babes? NKOTB?

It was like they got two shows for the price of one.

The funny thing was, the girlies proceeded, through the whole night, to take photos of themselves, drinks in hand, hands over heart, posing, primping, the whole nine yards.

But they were totally oblivious to the fact that in probably 90 percent of those photos, they are gonna see three boys gawking into the lens right behind them.

At one point, I caught one of the boys acting like he was taking a picture of the show with his phone, only that phone was NOT angled up it was pointing down.

I smacked the kid sitting next to me and made a hand gesture (because there was literally no way to speak or hear anything) that basically said 'tell him to get that off his phone now', he relayed the message in his own hand gestures, and the offending child tried to look at me and act very innocent like he was really taking photos of Jordan Knight. Ha. I've been around the block at least once. That was no Jordan Knight photo.

In fact, just as I am trying to get him to get this inappropriate photo off his Iphone, the most amazing thing happened.

The group switched songs, and out of nowhere, as if by magic:

Jordan Knight (lead singer, for those of you who are not educated on New Kids) himself appeared on a platform not more than 20 feet away.

Sweet Jesus, couldn't they have warned me?

There was suddenly a stampede and at the head of the stampede were my 3 boys. They were flying over seats, leading the pack of screaming, rolling, clawing women who were trying to get to that platform.

I tried to grab my purse and get down there and found myself face to face with a 5 foot tall female security guard who basically, with her own hand gestures, indicated that if I took a step, I would be out. Of course as she did that, two women came under the barrier, so drunk one of them nearly rolled down the aisle, and she took her attention off of me to go collect her before the woman herself killed in the stampede.

The security team was not well prepared for this event. They tried to hold women back but every time they turned around to stop someone, another one would dart behind her and run up there. This was better than an MTV video, really.

I stood my ground, afraid I was going to lose three boys in this herd and get kicked out.

And the whole time, the shrieking continued at some out of range decible level that I still cannot comprehend.

Finally, the song ended and the kids made it back to me.

Jordan said, 'I could almost touch him mom but there was a girl in my way!' Now Jordan, really?

Later on, when I could hear enough to get a few words out, I explained that trying to get to Jordan Knight over those women could have sent him to the hospital; never get in between a woman and a boy band member of that stature, son.

Between the lap dancers and actual band (oh, and someone did throw undies up on stage, Donnie Wahlberg caught them with one hand, he is clearly a undie-catching pro. All three of them looked at me consecutively like 'don't you dare') they ended up having a pretty good time.

Here is how I would sum it up:

4 New Kids Tickets: $125
3 Large Dr Peppers: $16
2 Concert Shirts: $70
Watching 3 boys sit in the middle of ten thousand shrieking women having a night to remember: Priceless.

QOTB (Question of the Blog): What was your most memorable concert, kid or otherwise?

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2 comments:

brian on July 20, 2009 said...

too funny... i'm surprised they didn't have more of a gay following - maybe that would be more nsync =)

jdemott on July 22, 2009 said...

Most memorable concert? Madonna (sat next to a girl I liked and irritated her by talking too much showing too much attention), Van Halen (so incredibly loud), The Jacksons (saw MJ after he was big), Lionel Richie (Tina Turner opened and yelled through her songs), Chicago (bored me to death at the time), The Judys (splattered with red Kool-Aid, a signature move for the group during their most popular song, Guyana Punch)? Nope, none of them. Not even the one when Rick James passed out on stage after one song.

Mine was an unexpected memory-making moment. My normally very agreeable wife and I went to see Natalie Merchant and she got into a heated verbal argument with a guy who sat in front of us, after he could not keep his lips of his girlfriend and they talked and kissed the entire length of the show, blocking our view, as no matter which way we moved to see, they moved too within seconds blocking our view again and interupting the music with their perpetual chatter. As we left the show, the guy yelled at me angrily, "You got a winner there, man. A winner!" Nice.

Second place was a Sade concert. She was excellent, sounded as good as a recording. I'd see her again in a minute. As we headed into the arena to park, I noticed that my basic-model luxury car was a cheap comparison to the fancy flagship models all around. When the lights were up before the show, we were the obvious minority, the average-looking, middle-class white folks amidst a sea of seemingly rich and beautiful people of color. When the show started, and the lights went down, the music dominated and it was great.

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