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The Groupie
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The Groupie |
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rwood Member Elite
since 2000-02-29
Posts 3793Tennessee 
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Once I was a music fan. I mean... fanatic. I still have the T-shirt from their concert. The "Day of Rock-N-Roll" in New Orleans, 1983. But the memories of that day are etched in my heart forever. Changing who I was going forward. My friend Jenny and I quit our jobs that day, took everything we made and screamed "We Got Tickets!" The concert of concerts would not be missed. We volunteered as flunkies for the local radio station just to get the tickets to the most high day. Journey, Foghat, Brian Adams & Zebra. An all day outside concert. We packed up her 70 Buick Skylark, (The Golden Bomb) and headed towards Louisiana. She always drove. I was lead footed. We had never been this far away before. We had made reservations at a Holiday Inn in Fat City right outside New Orleans. We basically held our breaths for most of the way, since we were too ecstatic to talk. But as we neared the city we became overwhelmed with what ifs and do ya thinks. "Do ya think we'll get backstage? I don't know girl. The football players are the security guards since the concert is in the stadium. I doubt they will let people in." Jenny said. She was my concert, music, groupie hero. She was more experienced than I in the ways and wiles of stardom. I followed her in her five foot stance. Even if I overtowered her by a foot. "The Night at the Roxbury" comes to mind, in female form. She was a true Floridian. I was implanted from Tennessee. She had older brothers that taught her the ropes. I had just her. We arrived in Fat City at the Holiday Inn, Holidome. Checked in. Checked out the room and the pool. Threw our two favorite pairs of jeans in the room and a couple halter tops, checked the massive hair and darkened the make-up, and made it for the highway to THE city. New Orleans. The city that never wakes without a hangover. We cruised the Dome to see our destination for the next big day. We checked out the parking, the entrance, the highway entry points, casing the joint. We would break in early, to get to the stage. But first we had to see Bourbon Street. The famed Mardi gras of the world. We parked in pay parking near the Quarter and walked. I was standing on the corner waiting to cross over to Bourbon Street when I saw my first Transvestite. There he or she or whoever stood. Jenny was on the other side of me and I abruptly elbowed her side or head, that is, since she only came up to my arm pit. She hollered "What?" I froze her with my eyes pointing them to the other side of me. She stammered and blew a giggle inwards. I turned plum purple. He was in a hot pink angora sweater with a purple leather mini-skirt and red high heeled shoes. I almost made a comment as to his height in compliment that he was taller than I was. Till I saw the hair on his legs and the five o'clock shadow. The red wig didn't do much for his complexion. But I became bold and stared. He smiled at me just as the Go sign read green. We crossed and he sashayed away. I was blown away! We walked all day from shop to shop. Bar to Bar. Wrought Iron fancy to the Garden District. Wow! is all I could emmit. Just blocks from the wild, hairy, cajun, world of melt was the most beautiful historic homes. Giant! Covering blocks of property. I imagined the Belles of the Balls flouncing their gowns on the lawns and gardens. Plantation Homes of the rich now even richer, but without the slaves and the crops. Money was the crop now. And from the looks of it, they grew it well. We tired fast for we never slept much the night before because of the events anticipation. We decided to grub at Wendy's and go back to the motel and rest. We had some time to kill and took a swim in the Motel pool. Brave for us since we had to remove the eyes and lips of concert junkies. No fear though, for the make-up bag was full of special groupie appliances and tools of the art. We put in a wake-up call for 6 am. The concert started at 10 am. We would be ready. Sleep didn't come too quickly. We laid in our beds and shared some more what ifs, and do ya thinks. She had a plan to get back stage and seemed pleased. I drifted into staged heaven and slept sound. The phone rang at 6 and she answered. We catapulted up and fought for the shower. She won. I put my clothes out. Tried on the halter, put the other one on, decided on the first. I slipped on my jeans and ran out for doughnuts. I ate two blueberry before I returned to the room with four more regulars. She was out of the shower and towel drying her hair. I jumped in and scrubbed with so much excitment that I slipped and fell in the bathroom floor. Banging my knee on the toilet seat. Bruising my hip. We laughed hard and began the task of hair. Turn your head upside down, put four dollops of mouse and blow the crap out of it till it stands up just right. Spray hard. Put the rest of your make-up on making the eyes look as black as possible without the hint of being in a fist fight. We were ready. We arrived at the stadium at 8 am. Waited in line for just a few and the guard opened the doors. We headed up the ramps and steps, stopping only to buy a T-Shirt. Journey. Slipped it on over the halter and headed for the stage. There were thousands already milling about. We were on a mission. The seating was general admition then, so we had it made. We gatherers of the stage needed no seat. The first band to play was Zebra. A new, up and coming, band that most probably don't even remember. They made it, then split. Who knows what happened to them. But that day they were great. The heat began to swelter come noon. And the sweat was pouring in buckets inside the filled stadium. Thank God for deodorant. I was 2 feet from the stage and enjoying the push and dance of it all. Till Foghat came onstage. By 1 the sun had scorched me red and the closeness of the crowd began to hurt. Who would have thought of sunscreen? But Foghat was fantastic. Worth the scrape of sunburned skin. Then Brian Adams! He was staring right at me during Summer of 69. I screamed but no one heard me. Just opened mouth of elation. And thankfully enough it sprinkled rain! Giving everyone a break from the heave of hot. The grand finale was Journey and the hour break sent us searching for something to quench our thirst. It had come close to dusk. We slipped in and around the thousands, going to the rest room, getting a drink. Making our way back to the stage. On the way Jenny stopped and talked to a guard. She was making conversation, feeling the guy out for backstage passes. He didn't know. He was just a football player. The next thing I know she threw her drink in his face. Seems he said we could get back stage for a sexual favor. Seems he didn't know that just because Jenny was 5 foot tall she packed a great big punch. He had her carted off to the side lines. She screamed awful things and I was trying to find out what was going on. When she told me, I went up to the bully and said, "Seems your career as a football player just went to the dogs buddy. Her daddy is the City Commisioner in Fla. Won't that be a good mud slinging between the states? He took heed quickly and let Jenny go. I lied. But it kept her out of jail and us inside the stadium. We made it back to our places and fell in awe for 4 hours at Journey onstage. She found a seat on someone's shoulders and I just stood there singing every song with Steve Perry. They were fantastic. The lighters lit the stadium in earthly heaven. They were better in concert than on the most expensive stereo system. Pure voice. Pure energy. Pure talent. Pure heaven. I screamed and cried till my voice went silent, my eyes hurt. The fireworks show afterwards was the best I'd ever seen. They gave 4 encores and then swept away in a dream ending. Too quickly. I was the groupie made real. I was going to meet that band. Through insider information we knew they had espaped the stadium. We found out where they were staying in the city! In driving there we planned the attack. We would just simply walk up to them and ask nicely for an autograph. If in fact we saw them at all. WE DID! We went into the hotel lobby. Asked the door man if they were in fact staying there. Gave him a twenty for saying yes. Except for Steve Perry, he flew out. We were mosying about the lobby for about 15 minutes and low and behold Ross Valory came out of the elevator with a tall guy. He went to the outside curb and waited for a taxi, pretending to be an airplane on the curb of the walk. I froze. I couldn't speak. I just stood. Jenny didn't see him. I tried to tell her but she was casing the elevator on the other side. The cab came and he and the tall guy got in and went away. She almost slapped me silly when I came to. We waited for about 3 more hours and believe it or not, as I could only follow Jenny, we got Neil Shaun's, Jonathon Cain's, Steve Smith's and Ross Valory's (Who had returned without the tall man) autographs. I don't remember how, but we did. It was a groupie moment I would never forget, sort of. I missed Steve Perry's, sadly He was the one I wanted the most, but oh well such is life. The only other incident relating to this one is that I met a man after I returned to Florida. A drummer. Tall with the bluest eyes I'd ever seen. I fell head over heals for him. I thought he made the moon hang in the sky and the sun set on the ocean. I was deeply in young love with this man. And it wasn't until he got a gig in California, that he could not turn down, that I found out the secret. I thought he was leaving me hopeless in Florida. But he changed my life with the information he withheld from me. He was the tall man getting in the cab with Ross Valory. He was his brother. And I was changed somehow. I saw why he did it, and I felt honored to have known him for just who he was and not who he was related to. I was amazed by his talent, but I fell in love with the man. It was so strange how I didn't remember him standing there. But he remembered me. And he always just smiled in that secret knowing smile. He taught me many things by not telling me the smallest bit of information. Music sounds different to me now, and musicians have a different appeal. But it was an experience of my lifetime. [This message has been edited by rwood (edited 08-16-2001).] |
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| © Copyright 2001 Regina Wood - All Rights Reserved | |||
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Janet Marie Member Laureate
since 2000-01-22
Posts 18554 |
Regina this is a very enjoyable recall. You took the reader along with you and let them feel the excitement and anticipation of the day. You captured the feel of music, New Orleans, and the way the early 80's were as well. I also enjoyed the flash forward and tie in with the "tall man's" part of the story. Being a Journey(Steve Perry's voice)Fan and having seen them many times in the 70' and 80's this brought back many good memories for me.... I saw them this same year you write of here, and Bryan Adams was opening for them. Anyway...great writing, nice to read you in prose, I think all poets should try writing in this style just to be able to stretch beyond the constraints of verse...though this forum is quiet and slow these days. Well done, thanks for sharing. |
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snowpants Member Elite
since 2000-09-16
Posts 2061KS |
Excellent story, Regina...I got more and more involved with every line...very nice job! sp  tried to write a letter |
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paladin
since 2001-08-05
Posts 930Pensacola,Fl. |
I was a young single sailor in the 60's. I remember a lot of wild and crazy three day libertys. Not too many people work as hard as fleet sailors or for that matter play as hard. Those were the days my friend.We thought that'd never end. Great story. paladin |
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rwood Member Elite
since 2000-02-29
Posts 3793Tennessee |
Janet: Sorry I neglected to comment to your reply. I'm so glad you read and enjoyed. They were so great! The 80's was a very morphic time period for me. Thank you so much for approving of my time sliding and my story. It was fun! SP: Hey! Glad you stopped by this one. Definately an amature effort, but this was a story that I'll probably share with my grandkids! HA. Thank you so much. Sincerely, Regina |
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