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Wednesday, August 21, 2013

It Was No Keith Urban.


My man and I went to see Keith Urban at the 360 Ampitheatre at the Formula One Raceway the other night. In the time slot that I should have been listening to and staring at Keith Urban, I was instead staring at this lady in what they dubbed the "panic room." First order of business, 360, if you don't want people to panic, do not tell them that they are headed to a panic room. Second order, actually train your employees in where they are to evacuate people to. It was a nightmare. 

As you can guess, there was a huge lightning storm that came up as we were listening to the opening acts. So, we were somewhat escorted to the Formula One garages. That would have been cool if we were not in there with 15,000 drunk smokers tossing around the f-word more than I say "shug." That's quite a bit, people. It was a mile walk there and back in the rain. As we passed the huge barbed wire security fences, Denbigh told me he smelled a government conspiracy. All I could think about was Auschwitz. There were crazy vendors following us selling beer the whole time as well. At one point, a man in the crowd shouted and pointed at Denbigh saying, "Keith is in here!" Of course with the hair and build . . . and the drunkenness, the ladies erupted in screams. 

We were some of the first people out so we ended up at this little section of a dozen tables overlooking the amphitheater that was full earlier. I was glad because the herd of people was piling up at the gate ready to run in. We sat there for forty minutes before they cancelled the show. Even though the smoke of the guy next to me was invading my nostrils, he was making me laugh. When they let the crowd back in, he started mumbling about it being like the running of the bulls of Pamplona. He was shouting to the thousands of girls below him, "Slow down, little girls. You'll get to him." 

On our way back to the car, we, decked in white, got stuck int the mud. I literally had to grab on to a concrete pylon and pull myself out at one point. The diva (Denbigh) was all tossled and his hair was a mess.

We had babysitters and we were alone. Other than that, it might have been in our top two worst dates ever. There have only been two bad dates. The other was when we went and saw Eight Crazy Nights.
Atleast we have a funny story about being herded to a panic room. 

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