Tonight I'm blogging by special request about another Greg Page concert weekend. I know, I know, those of you who know me well have already read the novellas I wrote after each of these weekends, but nevertheless, I'm going to tell a little GP weekend story and if you're planning to read my blog tonight, you're going to read it! ...you know what I mean. And rest assured, it won't be the same as when I originally journaled about the weekend because it's been five years since it happened and my memory is ... well ... my memory...and that's being pretty generous with the term.
Kristen, Ms. I-Want-My-Cookie, requested I retell the story, even though she lived through it with me. Apparently she was amused by the retelling of her inability to get over a cookie...wait, inability to get over a non-cookie, and so she figured this would be fun. I think she's right because before I can even begin to recall details, I have this mental image of literally being unable to stay standing because I was laughing soooooooooooo hard. Maybe I shouldn't say that, because it sets you all up for hilarity that I might not be able to deliver. I mean...what if this is an "I guess you had to be there" type of situation? Well, I guess we'll find out in a few minutes, won't we? So it's up to you. You can risk this falling flat and read on...or run for your life now.
Here we go....
Kristen and I had traveled to Las Vegas...separately...but she had supplied me with standby tickets...just like she did to Nashville (See Get Over It...just a couple days ago.) She did this even though we'd never met, because she figured of all people in the world, *I* needed to be at Greg's first US concert. I agreed with her, lol. And since I was unable to purchase airfare, she stepped in. THANKS, KRISTEN!
It is SO hard to isolate one tiny event from the weekend because from the moment I got off the plane until I got back on it to leave, Kristen and I laughed ourselves silly. It was just one thing after another that cracked us up. Neither of us drank anything stronger than a coke all weekend so we can't even blame it on "chemically-altered" behavior.
Anyway, we had seen Greg's concert, aka The Greatest Show On Earth, on Sunday night. After the show Greg had taken time to meet and greet everyone who cared to stick around for a photo and an autograph etc. And of course we stuck around. There was another gal, Cindy, with us as well as Kristen's hubby, for the concerts. Kristen, Cindy, and I, all three, brought our cameras and all three of us took individual pictures with Greg...on all the cameras. (Actually, I had two cameras with me, but can't remember if I used both at the meet and greet or not...not that it matters.)
After taking the photos and eventually heading back toward our hotel rooms, we decided that we MUST get the photos developed and take the photos back for autographs on the second night. So the next morning rolled around and since Kristen was pregnant that year, too, we took care of food first thing and then the customary driving down the sidewalk in Vegas. No wait...we did that the next morning...and I THOUGHT IT WAS A SERVICE DRIVE, so relax. Kristen got a little excited about that, but she got over that. Can't get over not getting a cookie, but I can drive her down a sidewalk ...or through a blasting zone (NOT my fault)...and all's fine. Go figure.
After we got those things out of the way we began searching for a one-hour photo. We had trouble finding one on the strip...it was probably disguised as a slot-machine or a costume fit for Liberacci, but be that as it may, we gave up on the strip. We asked around and finally headed for a mall. Mind you, Kristen and I are all about the photos. That is our purpose in life for the day...other than Kristen's food, of course...but we aren't the only ones on this escapade. We are dragging with us Kristen's hubby, Cindy, and another of Kristen's friends and HER hubby who flew in just because they could and to spend a night or two in Vegas while Kristen was there. SO there are six of us squeezed into a car built for two adults and three small children. I don't know how, though...unless we didn't and there was another car.... Hmmmm.... No I think we squeezed. I can still feel the door handle imbedded in my hip.
Ok, so we squeezed and we drove to the mall. Kristen and I forge the way to the One-Hour Photo and the helpful guy behind the counter tells us that the guy who does the one hour developing won't be in until one. No problem. It's eleven o'clock. That leaves three hours to kill, (two hours before the guy got there plus another to do the pics), but not too hard to do at a mall. So we start milling at the mall. Kristen was looking for formal wear for the "expecting." Cindy was looking for...what WAS Cindy looking for? I was looking for two hours to pass. Kristen got her dress and eventually found me. Everyone else had scattered. So Kristen and I continue to try to kill the time. It was not a total bust either. We saw a Willie Nelson imitator AND bought Kristen's hubby an alien drivers' license. The imitator and the license were equally appreciated.
Finally, after circling the mall enough times to cause dizziness, we see that it's time. We rush to the photo place and approach the counter. At this point we're exuding excitement. We can hardly contain our excitement to get the photos and see just how great we just KNEW they'd turned out. The man behind the counter hands us our packs of pictures and we begin going through them right there at the counter. We shuffle packs so we have the right ones from our respective cameras and we start going through them. I'm feeling disappointed and TOTALLY disgusted at my pictures. Every shot was a blur that every felon out there hopes his identifying photo will look like. It might as well have been Marty Feldman up on the stage from the looks of my photos. I was so irritated and completely engrossed in what I was doing for a minute...as was Kristen. Then breaking the silence, Kristen said, "Hill, where are the meet and greet photos?" My brain is going, "WHAT? What is she talking about? My Greg pics look like Marty Feldman." And then her question breaks through the thick walls of my head. I look at her. I blink a couple times and say, "In the camera....at the hotel."
It was at that point that Kristen and I lost it. Not like we were laughing loud and obnoxiously. Like we were laughing so hard we were making no sound, but I remember distinctly holding on to the edge of the counter with all my might because I was going down for the count, I was laughing so hard. We stood there laughing so hard we were crying. Meanwhile the two men working in the store (when I managed a glance their way) had these amused grins on their face...and a bit of a baffled look. It was SEVERAL minutes before either of us was capable of speech. Finally, one of us...and I don't remember who...realized that Cindy had her camera with her...........and it was digital. (Kristen and I were still in the dark ages with actual FILM in our cameras.) So we gather our strength (hey! laughing is exhausting!) and we head out to cruise the mall (because we haven't spent enough time there yet) and we race around and finally find Cindy. We were still laughing pretty hard, and if I recall correctly we weren't too good at explaining ourselves, so we just managed to get the camera out of her hands and raced back to the store.
5 minutes later we held in our hands the pictures we'd waited three hours for...and if we'd known it earlier we could have done it in those 5 minutes to begin with. We wouldn't have even needed Mr. One-Hour. ::sigh::
So there ya have it, Kristen. As well as I can remember it, anyway.......without re-reading my novella.
