Valentines Day I was one lucky duck. My sister and I were some lucky audience members to George Strait - yes George Flapping Strait; the King of Country. George had his last Michigan concert ever, and I snagged a pair (actually four..oops) of tickets the hour they went on sale.
Allow me to paint a scene.
Early September, while bagging some customer's produce the radio played fuzzy in the background
"...Auburn Hills Michigan...George Strait..."
The minute that customer had vacated, I vacated myself to the large produce cooler and left my sister a screaming voice mail.
Over the past year and a half up to this point, we waffled back an forth on whether we should just have a George Strait themed party - get tickets if he announces a tour stop near us (we had no idea if he would or any guess to what the price would be.)
Okay. Tickets go on sale October 4th at 10AM. They're expensive though... but it we don't try... we have to.. no we shouldn't... they're gonna sell out... but we need them.
9:00AM October 4th 2013 After a flurry of phone calls and texts over the past few days I go for it. Galdangit, if I do not try to get the tickets I will regret it. I'll miss out.
Strapping on my rubber boots and pulling a pair of rain pants on, I am clutching my phone anxiously counting the minutes until 10 while preparing to pick cauliflower with my dad.
10AM. It's time. I click buy on TicketMaster.com, as I have had it ready to go since I got to work at 7.
this anticipation. Goooooosssssh.
And my dad is gently yelling at me to put my phone away with "You're buying those tickets aren't you!" (playing the responsible father role, work is winding down maybe you shouldn't buy tickets. Stephanie shouldn't either yeaaah.)
10:30 "YES!" I scream from the 4-wheel drive ORV we were loading the cole crop into.
"Did you get them?" He asks, of course excited for me behind the stern love.
"YES!' I scream again, only to be torn down by an atrocious "Your order cannot be processed at this time. Try again later."
I sighed and got back in queue, more half hearted leaving my phone on the seat this time while I obediently caught cauliflower. Half-hearted, I still checked it every few minutes. Another half hour and the order went through.
I am going to see George Strait. One of my all time famous musicians - someone who I swear my parents saw - along with my namesake - the night I was conceived. George Strait is the shining gem of Country Music that is completely going to the craps today.
Now, as I checked my online banking statement I realized the first order in fact went through. Immediately too. Well. Ticketmaster was so backlogged with an influx of people dying to see this guy that it screwed up. No harm no foul, I was able to sell them with a $19 profit, so that's okay.
We did not have the best seats in the world, but we could see George crystal clear.
And even better, he sounded perfect. I cried every other song. Moved from corner to corner of his diamond stage every two songs, and talked a little in between them. He was humble. He was generous. And he was everything I hoped him to be. And much like why I find Steve Martin hilarious, George Strait also reminds me a lot of my dad. People who do that hold a very special place in my heart.
"We've got a lot of songs to play. I hope you guys aren't planning on doing anything later tonight."
It was a beautiful performance.
We felt like he was singing directly to us, and I'll be darned if he wasn't with our homemade t-shirts and all.
Little Big Town also had a stunning performance, surprising me with all the songs they played that I knew. Even during their duet with George. It was so candid. Phil, one of the vocalists in the quartet styled ensemble took a second verse after George to "You Look So Good in Love" and his voice gave out in a nervous puberty-reminiscent crackle. He lost it laughing at himself "Oh my God, I'm nervous in front of George Strait." He backed off with an embarrassed smile, to which George smiled as well.
I did learn one thing though. Throwing up horns at a neotraditional country concert does not exactly mean people will follow suit. Rocking out with my thumb, middle and ring finger flush to my palm did not fit the setting. Oh well. You can be a pseudo-goth* and still enjoy some of the greatest country music ever.
*Yes I classify myself as such. My junior high - high school look was effectively baby bat until my latter two years of high school and it was very plain, then a very moderate "emo". That "emo" look progressively turned into black hair (sometimes blunt bangs) with heavy eye makeup, and a healthy dose of black and whatever else I feel like wearing. My complexion is also pallor. I won't insult anyone by calling myself a goth (which is a beautiful look, that I do not possess) but pseudo is fitting.
I'm ending on this note.
My sister and I packed sandwiches, oranges, and a water bottle to eat on the way home so that we didn't have to spend any money. This was my makeup, in the best picture i could get the whole night.
I need to redye my hair (although I did touch up the blond that day.)
Smiling is weird in photos and I'm not fond of how it looks when I do it, but I had some black fakey-combat boots (real ones are not in the budget yet), and dark wash skinnies. Style. Auburn-taupe eyeshadow that is invisible because of my hooded eyelids (dang you Polish genetics. You failed me on this one.) My sister moved during the picture.
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