Eat Shrink And Be Merry

Okay, okay. I admit that I have a tendency to get “a tad bit excited” every once in a while. In fact, sometimes I do things that others wouldn’t dream of doing when they’re “excited.”

So, we went to the American Idol concert in Detroit on Wednesday night, and of course, I was sooooo excited, because I was going to be in the third row, just a microphone length or two away from my favourite Idol, Elliott Yamin. I watched the show faithfully all year, wishing I could call in and vote for him, but since we live in Canada, I wasn’t able to do that. I thought I’d show my support for him by cheering and dancing enthusiastically in the crowd with a big, huge smile on my face, wearing the “Reach for the Stars” pendant that Paula Abdul gave to me and my sister. (Paula gave Elliott the same pendant, so we have that in common!)

I was there with my sister, Greta, her friend Lisa and my best friend, Leanne. The concert was excellent, the performances very entertaining–highlighted by a duet between Greta’s favourite, Chris Daughtry, and Elliott. Anyway, during the grand finale when all ten Idols performed together, Chris Daughtry threw one of his guitar picks into the crowd and a little kid snatched it up quickly. Then Ace Young tossed one of his trademark toques. And then, as if time was stopping before my eyes, I could see in slow motion, Elliott begin to throw a towel into the crowd–the same towel he had been using to wipe his brow during his performances. Oh…my…gosh!!! Could it be??

He gingerly tossed the towel, and I could hear Greta yell to me, “Get it!!!” She shoved me, and I sprung into action. Everyone was going for the towel, but somehow, with my keen Jamie Somers-like bionic eye, I could detect that it was about to land on the cold, hard cement floor of the arena. It did. And I was on it like a duck on a June bug. Pounce! I threw my body over it, new, white sweater and all, claiming possession like a football player would a fumbled ball. Then it was like a fight to the death as several other women began to tug and grab at the towel right from under my belly. The nerve! They were tugging and clutching and I was not surrending my hard-earned prize. It was a mob scene!

Finally, I heard my sister yell, “Get off of her! She’s got it! It’s hers! And then I heard a woman say, “I’ve got my hands on it!” Greta, once again in my defence insisted, “Too bad! It’s underneath her! It’s hers!” Finally, a security guard rushed to the scene, cleared the mob off of me, and snatched away my towel.

“I can’t believe you did that,” the security guard berated me. “You don’t deserve this towel!”

“What?” I said, in disbelief, thinking that she must not have seen what had just transpired. I had to defend myself. “But…I threw myself on it! It was mine! And besides, I LOVE Elliott!” Finally, she reluctantly gave me back my sweaty Elliott towel.(Actually, it wasn’t very sweaty. It smelled freshly laundered and somewhat like a Bounce sheet.)

My friend, Leanne could not believe that in an arena of 14,000 people, I managed to get the towel thrown by the one and only person that I was at the concert to see and hear sing. What are the chances? She said it was the highlight of the whole night.

Yeah, it was pretty cool. But you know what? My highlight was knowing that my little sister would risk life and limb and perhaps a few broken fignernails to jump to my defence when I really needed it. Thanks for making my night, sis!