Outside Looking In

So we figured out a plan. I’d take a copy (thanks to Saturdays at my mother’s law office, I had several copies made on their Xerox machine) of what I had done of my novel to the show. I’d dress not like a crazy love sick teenager, but as a respectable teen with business to attend to, and I’d march up to the guy at the backstage door and explain my situation. He would relay the information, that I needed to speak with at least Rick’s manager regarding the important matter of a novel with Rick Springfield as a character, and surely the manager would then, in turn and after some conversation, get Rick to come join us. I was all set. I was ready to go.

We had decided to go to the show first, and then if we did not get in touch with Rick and crew at the show, we’d try at the hotel the next day. We spent the afternoon alternately getting ready for the show and making hotel phone calls at Dawn’s house. It took us ten phone calls to find the hotel. Sure enough, we got the “We’ll connect you with Mr. Miller’s room in just a moment…” at the Somerset Inn, a nicer hotel about twenty minutes from the amphitheater. We hung up when we were put on hold and squealed loudly at each other. We knew where he was staying!

I dressed in my nice white pants, a button down white oxford shirt, and a button down lavendar oxford shirt over that. Sleeves rolled up to my elbows. I curled my hair carefully in the feathery waves on either side of my face. Dawn dressed carefully too and we each took photos of each other in the living room of her house. In mine, I am holding a big blue shirt box with an envelope attached to the top explaining about the book manuscript inside.

Dawn’s sister picked us up, we stopped to get film for my Disc Kodak camera, and headed up the highway to the amphitheater. We were going early; it was about 5pm. We knew we would be early, but we figured this would allow us plenty of time to figure out how to “run into” Rick.

When we arrived at the show, I was unprepared. I had no idea what a 20,000 seat venue was like, but the parking lot was bigger than anything I’d ever seen. Our walk from Dawn’s sister’s car to the front entrance took ten minutes. I looked, crestfallen, at the entrance.

This was not a theater on the street where you could hang out in the back alley trying to figure out which door was the backstage door. The huge fence was miles long; this wasn’t a small theater; this was a huge, protected space where all we could do was mill about while we waited for the doors to open. There wasn’t even anyone to ask about getting backstage to discuss my Important Business; the doors were shut and locked and no one was even in sight that might possibly even work for the theater.

We were about twenty fifth in line, though, which was good. I consoled myself into thinking that this would give us time to scope out the inside of the theater and devise our next move.

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