Brad up close and personal

My throat feels like it's been rubbed with sandpaper. It can't have anything to do with shouting, screaming, singing and dancing all night, could it? Nah. Must be a virus going around... yeah... a virus named Brad Paisley which was accompanied by an evening with friends, fun and Brad right up in our collective grills. What more could a girl want?

Thanks to the kindness of Beth and Pete, I was able to sit right in front of the stage and see Brad Paisley close enough to look at the individual whiskers in his mustache and beard and see the detail painted on his jeans. Not that I was looking, of course.

Before we made it to the Civic Center, we made a pit stop for dinner at O'Charley's. I'd never been there before and the food was great. We met up with Beth and Pete's kid Brandon and a friend of his, Sam.

Typical college kids, they were there for the food and don't let anyone tell you otherwise.

After the orders were taken, the conversations about what was going on in college life began and reminders of the past were dredged up along with a refresher course of being a kid in a greater world.

While I am happy that Brandon is having this experience at this time in his life, I can honestly say I wouldn't want to go back to it myself for all the tea in China. There are some things that just can't be experienced but one time and college is one of them. It isn't the same as an adult to go back to school. Focus changes, campus life doesn't exist and for most grown-ups, there is a sense of urgency about getting from point A to point B that the college set lacks in full measure.

Most of them are learning life lessons about relationships and the excitement and pain they cause and for some, those life lessons also include just how much booze and buzz can you deal with before your grades are impaired as badly as your judgement.

At one point in the conversation, Sam was telling us about the rural small town that he came from here in Alabama. As he talked about it being so small that everyone knew everyone and was possibly kin to them, he related the sad tale of troubles his mother was having with her pet chickens. Some of them are no longer with us, cue 'Taps', and somehow, the roosters managed to escape the sad destruction that seems to have befallen the hens. They made their escape to the woods behind their house.

Sam said they hear random crowing from the woods from time to time and they think the roosters have become feral. Just the idea of feral roosters set the gathering laughing. I couldn't help but think of their lonely and perhaps slightly confused "cock-a-doodle-doo's" echoing in the trees with no response from the ghost chickens that are long since dinner for a coyote or fox near their former home.

My mind began to wander... Do feral roosters run in packs? Or are they herds? They are flocks when they are tame, but one wonders if all of that changes when they take on life in the wilds of Alabama. There is just something about living rough that changes a rooster... hardens him somehow.

Have they been altered by circumstance so bitter that they are no longer concerned with crowing exclusively at sunup and sundown? Do these rogue roosters now crow at odd times to confuse their predators and perhaps escape an early grave?

Is there feral nature something that was always in them from the beginning as some sort of recessive trait only brought to the fore when genetics takes an ugly turn?

I now have so many questions about these feral roosters that should be asked and answered. Can they be considered a federally protected species? Are they endangered? And lacking normal hen house female companionship, do these roosters have a feral chicken ranch somewhere that meets that special need?

We know they have escaped from their captive breeding program, but can they sustain life in the wild by beak and claw? Or is their feral species doomed to a Darwinian extinction because they are not chosen to survive? I think Sam and Brandon should take this on as a project and seek for government help and taxpayer dollars to solve this crisis! Unfortunately, that wasn't ever mentioned as a viable option and the conversation for the others at the table had long since moved on to other topics, I shifted the gears of my imagination and finished my salad. Pity.

When the meal was over and the plates were cleared by our hostess who overheard the conversation and announced that she was a proud liberal arts/theater graduate (which, to the uninitiated, means that she can say "do you want Fries with that" using an accent or costuming), it was finally time to continue on to the real reason for the evening... BRAD!!!!!! WOO HOO!! Not that I am excited or anything...

There was a big ol' whacking Brad Paisley Concert Tour tractor trailer rig stationed near the spot we parked that let us know we were in the right place. Beth and Pete knew where we were going all along and thankfully I wasn't driving or we might have bypassed Birmingham and ended up in Atlanta circling Peachtree Plaza all night and swearing. I can find my way around my hometown most of the time, but city navigation is another thing entirely and I was just glad that the responsibility of making it to the concert on time wasn't mine.

Beth had entrusted me with the sacred printout to indicate that tickets had been purchased for us to pick up at the will call window. She asked me several times if I had it. I assured her that not only had she given it to me, but I had stowed it in my purse for safekeeping. I asked her if she wanted it, but she said no because I was "responsible". Hmmm. Now that is one for the record books because generally there is an "ir" prefix before that particular word.

A relative newcomer to the country concert tours, a handsome fellow named Justin Moore (who has some seriously blue eyes), opened up the event with a great program and I actually knew a couple of his songs. Sometimes, I'm familiar with the music someone does, but not always just who it is that sings it. His set was great! He even signed one of his guitars and handed it down to a handicapped boy in a wheelchair by the stage. Now that was both cool and classy all rolled up into a boot cut jeans package.

Miranda Lambert came out next and she put on a high energy warm up for the main show and what parts of it were understandable were great. But, bless her heart, she seriously needs to fire her sound man. There were times Miranda totally disappeared into the NOISE of the band.

She finally sang a couple of songs that I could recognize above the feedback. Singing along made a reappearance at that point. Her part of the set was good, but dang it all, we need to get on to BRAD!!! Brad! Brad!! BRAAAAAAAAAAADDDD!!!! Seriously, I'm not impatient. Not at all...

When the house lights finally dimmed after the set change and it was time for the show to begin, all kinds of screams filled the room to replace the buzz that had been rumbling around the civic center. Of course, the "other buzz" filling the civic center that was created by ALCOHOL (not the song, the stuff in the cups all over the room) didn't go anywhere and was added to as the evening progressed.

Working over the strings on his various guitars, Brad churned out music and sweat in equal measure. Man, that guy can really make that axe of his sing! He gave a tutorial on serious guitar licks that would put a lot of non-country guitarists to shame. Some can play... some think they can play... and then there is Brad! Woo hoo, that man can coax out the music from his collection of fine instruments. And he ain't bad lookin' either.

I think he covered the complete catalog of my favorites. I didn't want it to end. But like all good things, it had to. Which sort of sucks. But that is what makes these experiences SO good is that they are uncommon and of short duration. Otherwise, the civic center might have been filled up with a lot of dead people who have been overcome by the fun and excitement. Someone might have complained... probably Brad.

No one of his caliber wants to sing to dead people. Frankly speaking, I don't think anyone does. They aren't any fun and most of them can't carry a tune when they are asked to sing along. And despite what you may have seen in the "Thriller" video of bygone days, corpses CAN'T dance. Most of them didn't have any sense of rhythm when they were alive and being dead won't improve it... particularly if they are white and filled with true embalming fluid instead of JD, Lynhchburg's finest.

I have to say that looking up from our unique vantage point at all of the performers was a truly rare experience. There was an interesting intimacy in being that close to someone whom you usually only hear through a pair of speakers or some headphones. Sitting on a bar stool just feet from where you are changes everything. You just THINK you know their voice until you are that close and can hear the nuances of their heart and soul singing their own music in such a personal way. It was so far above incredible, I'm not sure there IS a superlative that covers it. Watching Brad work so hard to make me and a room full of strangers happy was just awesome.

I realized something else at this concert. It was slightly disconcerting, pun NOT intended! There are two kinds of people at concerts: those who pay for seats and use them all night long and then there are the people like us who get a ticket to enjoy the concert experience up close and personal and that involves dancing, screaming, and singing along to the song whether you are in tune or not. And that isn't an experience that I'm willing to cram into a seat. Plus, if you sit down all night, you are getting a view of the person's butt directly in front of you who IS standing up to sing and dance the night away. Other than Brad's, I didn't see a lot of attractive butts at the concert. But to be fair, we did see quite a few people with incredibly 'sweet spirits'.

By the time we got about halfway through Brad's set, I realize I wasn't going to be able to talk afterwards. Fortunately, that didn't deter me from continuing to scream and holler and sing along. I can always recuperate later...I think. And if not, I can die a happy woman. Either way, it's a win-win situation. Looking right up into his face as he stood right in front of me, I kept singing, screaming and letting him know how much fun I was having while he was singing TO ME and that I appreciate all he has brought into my life musically. I am thoroughly and completely convinced that he heard ME, his biggest fan, over the din... we made eye contact several times, I'm sure of it... and whatever you say won't make it any different. So there.

The most amazing part of the whole evening was knowing that I have friends who care enough about my life and interests to make it all possible. Plus, they, like me, have more than one or two screws loose, so going anywhere and doing anything with Beth and Pete is guaranteed to be a good time. It's so much fun to look down the row and see that murderers row is all happily singing along and taking in that closeness that was unexpected but so appreciated.

Yeah Brad! And Yeah to Beth and Pete for sharing this night with a lunatic.

Lie Detector Test

There are lots of people I know who have undergone a lie detector test as a condition of employment. Most of them work for the Feds in some capacity that requires them to be above board and honest.

Me... I used to work for a gold refinery called Johnson Matthey Refinery, Inc. I had to submit to the polygraph test so they could ensure that I wouldn't sneak out with an ingot stuffed into my shoes or smuggled into my bra.

Anyone who knows me knows that second scenario would never work, but I digress.

So, Beth and I were talking about random stuff after covering the more weighty issues of the day which involved painful lessons and tears. The topic shifted around to lie detector tests. We are truly random people.

"Have you ever stolen a ham from a grocery store?" I about fell out of my chair laughing. 'A HAM?!?!?! A HAM?!?!?!" But Beth swears this was a question she was asked and I believe her simply because it's just too freaky and odd to be made up. It proves that the test administrator either had (a) a sense of humor or (b) a guilty party already in mind whom he was determined would not be missed in the questioning. I'm betting on answer B on this one, kids.

And Beth says she never stole a ham. I also believe that because anyone who knows her at all knows she would steal Dove chocolate WAAAAAAY before dipping into the meat aisle. A woman has to have her priorities in order.

As part of the questions I was asked prior to getting my job as an assayer for JMRI, the questioner posed this toughie: "Have you ever stolen anything?"

I know they were angling for something like grand theft or a jewelry heist, but the truth is the only thing I ever stole was a couple of Tootsie Rolls from the Elmore's Five and Ten Cent dime store. I was promptly busted for my offense and precious piggy bank money was extracted to pay for the candy. The store manager, with full approval of my mother, raked me over the coals. Stealing hasn't ever been tempting since.

Another gem the polygraph expert asked was: "Have you ever lied to your parents?"

Realizing this was no time for levity, I simply answered yes, then was asked to detail the circumstances on which I would lie. The fact is, then and now, I wanted to say "Am I over 1 year old? HELL YES!!! I've not only lied to my parents, but I derived a benefit from having done so ... I avoided getting my butt whipped!"

Of course, reasonable minds know that for kids in their teens, it sometimes comes down to the axiom that Judge Judy (I LOVE her show) trots out frequently: "If their lips were moving, they're lying!"

Kids don't lie all of the time, neither do adults. But when something seems like it would be in our personal best interest to shield us from whatever circumstance or consequence we'd like to put off dealing with... we LIE. There is a song called "White Lies" that played today on the radio while I was out running an errand with Beth. It was sort of the 'closing hymn' for the conversation.

We do what we feel will keep us out of the cross hairs. But now, lying has gone from kids protecting their assets against adult wrath to a national pastime on the Beltway in D.C. It's like "Hey, I got elected! Now I have a FREE PASS to lie 24/7!"

I don't believe they would make the eggregious statements they do if our politicians were all compelled to go on the record with a polygraph machine hooked up to them like a veracity life support machine.

It could also provide a useful service in finding out who among our tax paid leaders is not just a member of the liar's club but a pathological liar. Then we'd know where to aim when we shoot.

Just remember kids, the most important thing to glean from this conversation is to cut way back on the lying because it can prevent you from being employed. And also, try not to steal a ham. They do monitor that sort of evildoing...