I knew it was my lucky night when out of all the armrests in the entire Cascade Theatre that the supremely dreamy, super sexy Chris Isaak could have chosen to sit upon, he chose mine.
I mean, literally, he was almost on my lap with nothing except that skinny wooden armrest between his behind and my thighs. I could have let my hands wander. But I didn’t. Yes, I did get so caught up in the excitement that I squeezed his bicep. He was that close. How could I not?
I later joked with a friend that Chris Isaak probably sized me up as he walked down that aisle as someone who would behave herself, someone who wouldn’t take advantage of him in that very close, highly charged proximity.
What kind of woman am I? Only in my dreams am I the kind of woman who feels comfortable enough to leave the safety of my seat to dance without inhibition in the aisles. And, horror of horrors, if I were invited on stage to dance – as some women were selected to do during the Redding concert – and they rocked it – I am not the kind of woman inclined to fling undergarments to the audience. I’m too uptight. Believe it or not, in my heart of hearts, I’m kind of shy.
I’d have my shoulders scrunched up to my ears, swinging my L-shaped arms from side to side, T-Rex style – dryly snapping my fingers, awkward moves to rival Elaine’s Seinfeld-episode dance.
I’m just not a par-tay concert girl. Oh, how I wish I could be more like those unrestrained women who leap to their feet and let the music carry them away with total abandon. In fact, if people around me get too crazy and loud, I sometimes feel frustrated because no matter how raucous the concert, I’m really there to hear an artist perform; not watch audience shenanigans.
In fact, many years ago I attended a Bruce Springsteen concert with a friend, and our seats were so high up in the arena that it was difficult to see the stage. I made the mistake of asking the woman in front of us if she would please sit down, and she came unhinged. No, she did not sit down. The only way to see was to join her, and stand. I stood. I did not dance.
That’s why I believe Chris chose me – I mean, my armrest. I think he sensed I was a trustworthy female who wouldn’t abuse my privileges.
It was the last thing I expected that evening. First, Chris left the stage, which I thought was a nice touch, you know, literally coming down from the stage on high to mingle on the same level with his fans. Then he walked up the aisle – MY aisle – and I was delighted to realize that he would probably walk RIGHT BY ME. ME! My seat! Was I lucky, or what? Yes, lucky! Oh, for the chance to be that near him, or to even touch the hem of his sequined jacket.
But then he slowed, slower still, and finally, he came to a complete stop near my seat, row J.
J for jubilant. J for joyful. J for sweet Jesus, Chris Isaak placed his derriere upon my armrest!
I freaked out a little inside, because here was a performer I adore, sitting right there with me. I was so spun out, so happy, that I leaned forward to catch the eye of friend Matt Grigsby across the aisle, who captured the whole thing with his cell phone. Gosh, it’s great to have a friend who’s an expert photographer at times like this. (Thank you, Matt!)
Look, Matt! Chris Isaak is right here! With me! Can you believe it? He chose me, me, me!
I was so caught up in the presence of Chris Isaak at that moment, that now, in this moment, I cannot recall for the life of me the song Chris was singing. It’s as if my brain checked out, and with it went my ability to recall the song. (Somebody else who was there, help me! What was the song?)
I flashed back decades to the time I was in Washington, D.C., walking in front of the White House exactly as Nancy Reagan’s motorcade was returning. Suddenly, it was a flash mob of Secret Service and the efficient corralling of we sheeple tourists. Reagan’s limo passed right by me, and as it did, I saw her through her window. We made eye contact. She lifted her thin arm and did a small wave, with a slight smile. I waved back like a wild woman.
Hi, Nancy! Hi, Nancy! Nancy! Nancy!
I did all that, forgetting in that star-struck moment that I wasn’t even a Nancy Reagan fan.
But that was absolutely NOT the case at the Cascade Theatre and Chris Isaak’s concert. I am a fan! I have loved his music for years. In fact, I even have a Chris Isaak Pandora station I’ve created, which I carefully edit, thumbing down anything that isn’t purely Chris Isaak.
The thing is, after my close encounter with Chris Isaak, I did a little online
stalking research. I read somewhere that Chris said he liked to be touched in those kinds of fan situations. What? Seriously? Total missed opportunity.
Chris, please come back! Give me another chance! I have already denounced my love for Paul Hollywood. I promise! I have coffee cake!
One more thought about my unforgettable Chris Isaak moment. It dawned upon me a few days later that perhaps he chose to sit on my chair arm for another reason. Maybe he sat on my armrest because I was sitting beside Valerie Ing Miller, aNewsCafe.com’s own Mistress of the Mix.
You probably know that Val also represents Jefferson Public Radio in Redding, which is why you’ll often see her introduce acts at the Cascade Theatre. In fact, the whole reason I was able to attend the Chris Isaak concert that night was that I was Val’s guest, something I’ll be thanking her for for a long, long time. (Thank you, Val!)
Now it occurs to me that maybe Chris was actually heading for Val, and because I had the aisle seat, it so happened that my armrest was the closest to her’s.
If you know that to be true, please don’t burst my bubble and tell me.
Well, there really isn’t anything left to say, except although I understand that Chris Isaak’s magical stop at row J was just part of a choreographed routine that he repeats over and over during a tour, it was something that brought me indescribable joy; frankly, in a week that had been kind of a downer.
That’s why I’m not going to overthink why Chris stopped at my seat. I’ll accept it as a gift – heck, I consider it part of my birthday gift, which was yesterday.
And, by the way, speaking of birthdays, I happen to know that Chris Isaak is exactly two weeks older than I am. Just added that for no particular reason. Never mind …
OK. That’s all, I’m done. I’ve moved on. Really I have.
Life will go on.