Okay, I know I'm not the only sixty-plus woman out there who's hooked on "American Idol." For one thing two of my girlfriends are equally hooked. But when we admit this to other friends we always make sure to add "we never vote." As one of my fellow addicts would say only the kids vote, mostly girls around the age of fourteen. I thought this was true.
So, here's what I don't understand. A few days ago - this is even more embarrassing than being an Idol watcher - I went with a friend to see a Taylor Hicks concert about 45 minutes from home. I'm making a point about how close it was and you'll see why in a minute. For those who don't know Taylor Hicks, a guy, was the A.I. winner a few years back - I do sort of lose track but it has absolutely nothing to do with faulty memory (well, it does but I don't like to admit it). So my friend (who will remain nameless because I don't out my friends) and I get to this cute venue that holds 320 people. And serves dinner. Dinner and a show - a mid-week night out - it was going to be fun...
We arrived an hour early so we could have dinner. There were two women, only 2, waiting for the doors to open. They were both in their sixties. One of the women proudly told us she drove 9 hours from Akron, Ohio and this was her forty-second Hicks concert. And by the end of the week, after following her Idol to New York, New Jersey and Vermont, she'd clock in 3 more concerts.
I'll get to the point, or points. The hall was half-full. There was no one there under fifty. Most were in their 60's and 70's. There were maybe 5 husbands. The women, many of them in Soul Train tee shirts (the name of the band) were enthralled, they were standing, swaying, clapping, cheering. My friend and I were not feeling it. We were far from feeling it. And it really wasn't Taylor Hicks' fault. He was fine. The band was fine. It was the whole geshtalt.
And I thought about poor Taylor Hicks. Surely, when he won Idol he must have had fantasies about singing to crowds of teenie boppers, hearing them swooning, screaming, having them toss their undies on the stage. Instead if anyone in our audience was going to toss something it would have been a cane. My friend and I, both Hicks' virgins felt like we'd entered another planet and not one we wanted to be in. Can I turn the clock back just a little? Does one time, one mistake count?
Oh, and the woman sitting next to us was eating some kind of spinach salad and it truly smelt like body odor. Actually I thought it was body odor until my friend nudged me, a napkin against her nose and gave the salad a glance. "I'm going to throw up," she said. I think the disgusting smell was only part of the nauseous feeling for both of us. But I will say I was relieved it was the salad and not my friend who smelled.
And so we left. $120 poorer. Really, who wants to pay that much money to be seriously depressed? At least, my equally depressed friend reminded me, we didn't drive there from Akron.
I was so happy to get home, cuddle up on the couch next to my husband and watch "House Hunters."
So, here's what I don't understand. A few days ago - this is even more embarrassing than being an Idol watcher - I went with a friend to see a Taylor Hicks concert about 45 minutes from home. I'm making a point about how close it was and you'll see why in a minute. For those who don't know Taylor Hicks, a guy, was the A.I. winner a few years back - I do sort of lose track but it has absolutely nothing to do with faulty memory (well, it does but I don't like to admit it). So my friend (who will remain nameless because I don't out my friends) and I get to this cute venue that holds 320 people. And serves dinner. Dinner and a show - a mid-week night out - it was going to be fun...
We arrived an hour early so we could have dinner. There were two women, only 2, waiting for the doors to open. They were both in their sixties. One of the women proudly told us she drove 9 hours from Akron, Ohio and this was her forty-second Hicks concert. And by the end of the week, after following her Idol to New York, New Jersey and Vermont, she'd clock in 3 more concerts.
I'll get to the point, or points. The hall was half-full. There was no one there under fifty. Most were in their 60's and 70's. There were maybe 5 husbands. The women, many of them in Soul Train tee shirts (the name of the band) were enthralled, they were standing, swaying, clapping, cheering. My friend and I were not feeling it. We were far from feeling it. And it really wasn't Taylor Hicks' fault. He was fine. The band was fine. It was the whole geshtalt.
And I thought about poor Taylor Hicks. Surely, when he won Idol he must have had fantasies about singing to crowds of teenie boppers, hearing them swooning, screaming, having them toss their undies on the stage. Instead if anyone in our audience was going to toss something it would have been a cane. My friend and I, both Hicks' virgins felt like we'd entered another planet and not one we wanted to be in. Can I turn the clock back just a little? Does one time, one mistake count?
Oh, and the woman sitting next to us was eating some kind of spinach salad and it truly smelt like body odor. Actually I thought it was body odor until my friend nudged me, a napkin against her nose and gave the salad a glance. "I'm going to throw up," she said. I think the disgusting smell was only part of the nauseous feeling for both of us. But I will say I was relieved it was the salad and not my friend who smelled.
And so we left. $120 poorer. Really, who wants to pay that much money to be seriously depressed? At least, my equally depressed friend reminded me, we didn't drive there from Akron.
I was so happy to get home, cuddle up on the couch next to my husband and watch "House Hunters."
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