When I was 13 years old, I bought my very first lp: the B-52′s Yellow Album. Yes, it’s true, the B-52′s turned me gay! Truly, though, they rocked my world and have been one of my favorite bands ever since. Everything that I did after that during my teenage years, the crazy hair colors, the odd combination of colors of clothes, the going out in the trenchcoat to the movies, and especially the dancing – oh, how I remember those parking lot dances I did at Garcia Bend Park – 200 drunk teenagers stopped dead in their tracks watching the tall skinny kid with wild hair spinning like a dervish on a speedball – all was influenced by this album. The only thing that has even ever come remotely close to filling me with such ecstacy has been my byzantine chanting, but even that is so wildly different that it’s not fair to compare them.
So tonight, I went to the California State Fair (http://www.bigfun.org/) to see my all-time favorite band perform. I had had so many opportunities in the past to see them, but for one reason or another, I never did. Tonight, though, I was determined to see them no matter what.
I had a later afternoon massage, and then I was heading out the door to get to my car and then the fair. Lovely Rita, my personal parking patron saint, was with me and I got a very close space even with only 5 minutes before the show was to start. The quick jaunt to the gate, paid my fare, and I was in over at the West Gate. The walk over to the concert stage was filled with turns and twists, as all these silly people with their strollers and their aimless stares impeded my progress to my Mecca. I started snarling at them to wake up and move! I think I made one woman wet herself! But the glowing stage lights drew me onward.
The trance I went into was indescribably beautiful. The sweat poured off my gyrating body, as I hopped and jummped, and did the Shy Turtle and the Hip-o-crit! Yes, Virginia, I actually know most of those dances named in “Dance This Mess Around,” one of the greatest songs ever written. Each song they played, and my dancing got more and more ecstatic, so much so that people stepped back to give me some space, even the CHP officers that were standing there to keep people out of the seating area which had filled up two hours before.
I did take a short break and it was then that I saw Marc D. and his two guests, whose names are temporarily escaping my mind. I hung out with them for a few songs, and then they took off to ride the monorail, since Marc was tired – he had worked all day, and was pretty beat down. I said bye to them and went back to my spot and started dancing again.
Their encore songs, “Planet Claire,” “Party Out of Bounds,” and “Rock Lobster” had me dancing like I hadn’t in twenty years. So free and loose and unselfconscious, carefree. I walked over to get some lemonade from the Hot Dog On A Stick booth and saw my three bears again at the roasted corn on the cob booth next door, so I walked up to them and hung with them some more, and we all walked over to a berm to sit down and waited for the fireworks to start.
Fireworks over, we all hustled our way to the Main Gate to get out of there before as much of the crowd as possible. Unfortunately, I was parked at the West Gate, but fortunately, there were these Tricycle Rickshaw-like things waiting out at the gate to ride you to your car. I decided that that sounded fun and fast, so I paid the guy 4 bucks and hopped on board. Whee! The rushing air was great and cooling.
I got in my car and drove on home, listening to the local public radio jazz station. I had all the windows open and the sunroof, too, and the air was wonderfully blousy on my skin.
What a great night.
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