Sav.net

by Jeanne

It was the best time I could have had. At the same time, I don't know how it could have ended worse. Beginning on the twenty-ninth day of July in the year two thousand, all of these things came to pass on the four day road that lay ahead.

Once settled on the bus, I had plenty of time to reflect upon the circumstances that brought this course of action about. There had been tickets to buy, and I had thrown my hat in the ring to buy them. Whether the fault of a seller concerned only with cash in hand, or the ruthless desire on the part of other list members to sit as close as possible to the band, the tickets were not bought by me. I think it was a combination of both. Whatever the cause, having those two list members buy those Blossom tickets out from under me was devastating. That was my first taste of a bitter reality wherein Leppard fans are willing to step on each other, salivating jackals climbing over fresh-slain carrion to get to the prize of choice meat. I was hurt by that, and disillusioned. I have really never been in a situation where one (or two) could be so willing to blatantly put the desires of self before decency or consideration of another. I had decided not to go to any of the summer shows at that point. I wanted no part of that.

Someone that I knew from the lists, and from my own club, saw how badly I was injured and took pity on me. She came to me with the offer to stay with her and with her freinds at the hotel in columbus, then later at Cincy. It was she who said to let those two other list members enjoy those tickets, because I was going to meet the band. I was told at that point that we would be staying in the same Cincy hotel where the band would be staying. Before that offer was made, I was not aware that she knew anyone in a position to get close to the band. Contrary to opinions and accusations that would come later, I did not latch onto her and try to use her to meet them. The offer, very generously, came from her. More than the chance to meet the band, her offer moved me bedause I believed that she extended it with the only intention of making me feel better after such a crushing heartbeak.

We met up in Columbus and everything went very well. I met My original benefactor and two of the others, whom I shall call B and S (bacasues those two initials put together pretty much sum up my opinion of the things that came to pass later). A fifth joined us the next day. I got along with them (I thought at the time) brilliantly. I really felt like I had found a group of women that I would be proud to call my freinds and know for a long time, never mind the circumstances that brought us together.

Then we went to Cincy, the city also known as Porkopolis. Apparently, there were once slaughter-houses in the city, and the pigs were herded into the city streets toward their fate. In memoriam, there is a sculpted pig on every corner of the street, made by various local atrists. They are displayed for awhile, then auctioned off to benefit different causes. There was even a pig in the lobby of quite possibly the nicest hotel in the city, a representation of the King of Rock, named Elvis Pigsley. Taking pictures by it later, we very nearly toppled the king of pork from his pedestal. My favorite was the pig two corners away, painted yellow with red dots on it's cheeks, called Pigachu.

There in Cincy, the trip proceeded to go straight down the toilet. In Columbus, we weren't around the band, so we were free to be ourselves. In Cincy, the mentality of the group switched to "Band" mode. That's when I got the first glimpse of the band politics I have mentioned in various posts on lists and in my club. All of a sudden, I wasn't in the pictures any more, I wasn't in the conversations any more, and I wasn't in the group any more, at least not emotionally. I knew something was up, and kept waiting for somebody to sit down with me and tell me what what was going on. That is the way I have always thought that adults deal with things. When, if, there is a problem, adults sit down and discuss it. Nobody did that. Instead, I lingered there with the tensions rising, not knowing what had caused them, and not knowing what I could do to make any of it better. I really started to wonder if I was going to be told to leave.

One of the girls, B, did talk to me briefly at one point. There had obviously been conversations, but not any that I was a part of. They had talked about me, not with me. She said that it was suspected that I would not pay for my part of the trip, that I would skip out without contributing financially. That I was just another user. I was also told that if I didn't pay, I would, indeed, be told to leave. "The Greyhound station is right up the street" was the statement made to me about it. I did pay for everything that was expected of me, but the friendships that I had hoped to form were ruined for me, then. After we settled into the hotel in Cincy, I was uncomfortable with the tensions in the room. They were so thick that I could taste them, and I did not like the flavor of it on my tongue. I was the outsider and I knew it. I could either bear it in silence and sit there, knowing, or I could remove myself. So I took my book and went to get coffee at the bar. I needed the caffein, and I needed to wash the sour taste from my palette. I sat by the bar, read my book, and drank my coffee. Nothing more.

The first night in Cincy, everybody went to sleep and I was left without so much as a blanket to sleep on the floor with. The AC was on and I froze, and somebody decided to sleep with the television on. I got not a single wink of sleep that night. Granted, My original benefactor slept on the floor that night, too, but was at least able to sleep. After most of the night, I decided not to just sit there, freeze and watch everybody else sleep. I took my book down to the lobby, sat there and read for awhile. When morning finally dawned, I got some more coffee. It was at least warmer there. I found out later that they thought I went in search of the band both times. Throughout the stay at that hotel, there were clutches of fans, social climbers, and other people who hoped to catch even a glimpse of the band. They stood in small groups in the lobby, wandered the halls, or camped out in the bar until all hours, hoping for the band to come down. At a later hour, I saw that one fan had fallen to sleep on the bar. I considered this behavior to be desperate and sad. I picked a quiet spot and concerned myself only wth the happenings of Richard, the bi-plane flyer, and his teacher Don Shimoda (the characters in my favorite book. I've cherished it for years and so did my mother who owned it for years before me. It is well read, well worn and well loved). Being observant, I knew where the bands' hotel rooms were. If I had been of such a mind, I could have gone knocking on doors in the middle of the night. I didn't do that. As it happened, I did get a chance to meet Phil, and talked briefly to Joe on his birthday.. I shudder to think of the cake, and will be slapping myself on the forhead for some time to come... I enjoyed those brief encounters, unexpected meetings unfetterd by treachery or design.

The second night in Cincy, everybody got a spot on a bed but me. I was the designated floor-sleeper. On the way to Cleveland, I rode with the fifth girl, My original benefactor was in her van and B,S were up front in their car. It was one of those two with whom everybody was supposed to stay after the Bossom concert that night. We had discussed it at the beginning of the trip. I was supposed to stay that night and take off for home in the morning. I live a driving hour away from Cleveland and had my morning route planned out.

But..

When we got to Cleveland, we pulled into a strip mall parking lot, and I was informed by B that there was no longer room for me. I was told there would be a bus coming by and basically just get out and goodbye.

There was public transoprtation coming, and I had enough money to get home, but I was abandonned all the same. The girl I rode with didn't see it coming, and I don't think My original benefactor knew either. It was the majority vote (the majority being decided by the fact that it ws B's house they were visiting that night) that my company was no longer welcome.

I got home after three busses (one of which was a greyhound), lots of walking, a taxi and eight hours. I cried every minute of it. I missed the show at Blossom, but that's not why I wept. I still don't have words for all of the things that moved me to those tears.

At my house all I wanted to do was go to my room and bawl my guts out, but my son headed me off at the steps and made me sit down and talk about it. That 16 year old kid showed me more maturity and sensitivity than I had seen in days from adults. I'm very proud of the man I see him becoming.

Now, as I hear it, I used that group to meet the band. There are mentions on the lists of somebody using someboy like that. There are no names being said, but I can't help thinking that it's directed at me.

Truth be told, I would rather not have met the band if it meant that I could have made friends, instead. But, apparently, some of those freinds do not feel the same. I have talked to My original benfactor. She's not unkind, but I still get the feeling that she would rather not be talking to me. she's also unsubbed from my club. I think that in many ways, she was caught in the middle of it all. She did not feel well. Stress and road weariness led her to spend a lot of time either bundled up in a blanket or visiting the facilities. Likewise, the fifth girl in the group was left with an unstable system for days.

I don't think the trip wore well on any of us. Still, I can't help thinking that I was the only one who had to walk home. I think that will smart for some time, the bitter salt of memory rubbing in it at unexpected times.

I am delighted to say that the fifth girl from the group has gotten in touch, and I hope that there might be a potential friendship there. I hope that we can stay in touch, and never mind the band.

The other two have not bothered to write.

I know that when it came to the band, the group closed ranks against me to protect their position on the Def Leppard fan "pyramid".. that whole social system. Looking back, I know that the things I've seen will stay with me, a part of me. I saw people willing to sacrifice anything upon the altar of rock worship, if it would get them even an inch higher on that ladder. I also saw the simple decency of a loving child. I know that both of those live inside me, worshipping the band, and the hope of decency, and I have asked myself which might prevail. My conclusion is a simple one. Even though I wore blue jeans instead of hundred dollar outfits when I met members of the band, I carried myself with honesty, my dignity intact. I can live with that.