Last night was my first, but hopefully not my last, Rick Springfield concert. My husband and I returned to the Clay Center in Charleston for this show. Our seats were in the front row, right in front of the speakers, so by the time I left I couldn’t hear or talk (you might remember I went to the concert with laryngitis). Despite my night of lip-synching, I had a great time.
When the lights went down, I was absolutely giddy with anticipation of Rick taking the stage. When he arrived, he did not disappoint. For almost an hour and a half, Rick performed with an energy that could put many half his age to shame. He interacted with the crowd. He left the stage more than once and went out into the crowd. At one point he was putting the microphone down and letting random folks in the crowd sing the line “Don’t talk to strangers”. This presented quite the dilemma for me. As much as I would have loved for him to come over and speak to me, giving me the opportunity to sing that one little line, I couldn’t have responded, so I guess it’s best that he didn’t make the offer. Maybe next time.
One of the greatest things he did, though, was take a little five-year-old boy onto the stage with him. He asked his name and age and then had him sing the line “Don’t talk to strangers”. The kid loved it, and needless to say, so did the audience. Several folks presented Rick with bouquets of roses, which he promptly shook loose and sent petals flying everywhere. Thanks to my front-row seat, I was hit in the chest with several of those petals, which my wonderful husband collected for me to bring home.
When I was a teen and in love with Rick Springfield, my dad referred to Rick as “Spaghetti Legs”, something to do with some dance moves. Bryan Adams never earned a nickname, but probably because since Bryan wasn’t on a soap opera I watched, he wasn’t as visible as Rick was. I made sure to send Dad a picture during the show, and he lovingly responded with a “Spaghetti Legs” reply. I must say that I take that much better than I did when I was 15, when I would become so furious I wouldn’t even speak to Dad. I even must admit that had Dad not responded with a “Spaghetti Legs” comment, I would have been disappointed. After that, though, Dad texted to tell me to have a good time, and after I replied to tell him I’d been hit with a rose, he replied, “That’s good.” I sure do love my dad.
The concert didn’t end too late, which was good since we had to come back to Jackson so I could work today. Jimmy drove home so I could sleep (actually since my head felt like a balloon most of the weekend, Jimmy did all the driving this weekend … I sure do love my husband, too), and we made it home by about 1:30 this morning, and I did manage to get up and go to work today. My voice is slowly coming back. My students assumed I lost it from all the screaming at the concert last night, but then they felt sorry for me when I told them I couldn’t scream or sing or anything at the concert. I’m still not at 100% with my voice, which isn’t good considering I have to read test instructions to a group of students in the morning. Hopefully they will be able to understand my squawking.
Bryan Adams tours frequently, and any time he is close, my husband gets me tickets, usually really good tickets. Rick Springfield doesn’t tour as frequently and usually not anywhere close to where we are, but the one time he does, my husband yet again gets me front-row seats as a surprise first-anniversary gift. I sure do hope Rick comes back around sometime soon. I’d love to see him again. Of course, I’m terribly spoiled, and I want seats like the ones I’m used to, up in the front. My ideal show would be front-row, center-stage tickets with Bryan Adams and Rick Springfield in the same show. I doubt that’ll ever happen, but a girl can dream, can’t she?