photo by RCA Records
Monday night found me sitting in a tropical downpour at the fabled Wolf-Trap National Park for the Performing Arts in Vienna, Virginia.
The occasion? One Mr. Clay Aiken and his Jukebox Tour.
Having only been able to score lawn tix the traditional way, the day of the show I rang up the friendly dude at the box office and inquired, in a friendly way, about the possibility of upgrading.
His heinous laugh was deafening.
He was like, dude, you're on the phone and peeps have been camped out here since at least 9:00 this morning, which, he informed me, was when he arrived at work.
Besides intimating that I was thoroughly insane, he further informed me that I should feel exceedingly lucky to have gotten tickets at all and that, please, the in-house tix sold out in---quote---"like, thirty seconds, I'm not kidding you."
How he found time to provide me with this exceedingly detailed oral history---what with all the apparently clamoring, desperate throngs of Claymates at his window---I know not. But there you have it.
So, the lawn it was. Which, from a professional blogger point of view, actually has advantages because it allows one to conduct research on several conversations and fan groups simultaneously.
Such as the lady who turned to her friend and asked, quite sincerely, "Why is everyone screaming?"
True, since the concert hadn't even started, one might legitimately wonder.
Except that, people, this is CLAY AIKEN, after all. The man whom I once described [here] as turning even the Fox people into blubbering wierdos every time he appeared.
Then there was the girl who turned to her BF and said, "It's intermission and he hasn't sung one Clay Aiken song yet."
(Not true if she was talking about songs Mr. Aiken had recorded: though literally interrupted by a bolt of lightening, he had sung "Solitaire," which most definitely is a Clay Aiken song. Even Neil Sedaka said so.)
But my point is: Lady, it's called the "Jukebox Tour," and that means . . .? Hmmm . . . ??
Of course, she was the one who was lamenting that they'd not brought any dinner (a Wolf-Trap tradition) because she'd gotten confused and thought the concert was tomorrow night, but then she heard the concert advertised on the radio and, lo and behold---SCREECH BRAKES AND MAKE U-TURN---it actually was tonight, and well, it was all very tumultuous.