Sunday, April 8, 2007

Club T.C.

Before I tell you this story, I have to tell you, trusted blog readers, that I am not at all ashamed about events that transpired throughout that evening.

I’m pretty sure it started back in college. Two great friends of mine love men above all else, and will boldly go where no other image-conscious college junior will go – like an N’Sync concert. They loved Justin Timberlake, but remember, this is pre-hot Justin – this is skinny, curly headed, looks like his voice might crack any moment Justin… but on his way up, I’ll give them that. Anyway, they went, they danced their asses off among screaming pre-teen girls, and they raved to all of us how great it was, completely unashamed (props, ladies).

So, back in like October when one of the duo (now my best friend) called me to tell me that Justin was going to be in Houston for the FutureSexLoveSounds tour in March and do I want to go with her and Chanell. Uh, yes! We basically tell Chanell to get all three tickets when she goes online to get hers. My Mistake #1. She waited online until the second tickets went on sale, and the ensuing conversation went like this:
Chanell: “I got the tickets; you guys owe me $115.”
(Dividing in my head I think, okay that’s not too bad)
Nate’: “okay, so what is that, $57.50 each?”
Chanell: (pauses) “no, $115 each…”
Me: “What the HELL!? Are we sitting on the damn stage?!”
Nate’: (laughing) “we’d better get sweated on!”
I say it like we were mad, but honestly after waiting like four months for the concert to arrive (we got our tickets kinda early) we were excited and sitting on the 4th row juuust to the left of center stage was pretty much worth our $115 each.

So Nate’ and I drove to Chanell’s house in Houston – the plan is get her, go eat, get to downtown H-town for the concert. So we greet and hug, say hi to the fam, and are out – we’re all in jeans, Tay and I have t-shirts on, I’m in my snazzy old school New Balance shoes, Tay’s in flip flops. Chanell’s in a button-up shirt, but she always wears those and she had like sketchers on. I think Chanell and Nate’ had a little eye makeup on, me? Makeup? Pssh! (These details will be important later.)

When we got to the Toyota Center we immediately recognized an amazing venue for people-watching. Nobody had been let in yet, so there were lines curving all the way around the damn building, with ALL sorts of people. The hilarious part about it was that the women were all dressed to the freaking nines to go to this concert. I mean, I didn’t know they made 4-inch stilettos, but apparently everybody there did. So we’re walking through the line in our tennies, jeans, and hoodies watching these sticks of women hobble around in heels they can’t walk in and freeze their asses off because their shirt basically covers their nipples and a strip of skin down their stomach – we were pretty sure we were going to a concert, not a nightclub. Hence the name, Club T.C. It was as if the women thought that by looking all “cute” (enter a multitude of appropriate adjectives: slutty, easy, trashy, etc) Justin would actually make eye contact, realize Cameron Diaz and Scarlett Johansson aren’t enough, pause the concert, and pick them out of the crowd to go backstage and start a life together. Hysterically tragic on their part.

Once we actually took our seats the people watching got even better. The only people in front of us were those who had paid to stand on the floor right by the stage and next to the bar. The concert was actually great, and really fun. What can I say? Justin Timberlake is a good performer. During the intermission, Timbaland came onstage and mixed for about 25 minutes, which is where it really turned into Club T.C. Everybody was dancing, all the clackers were bobbing as much as the stilettos would allow, trying to figure out how have rhythm while trying to clutch their uber-trendy, sequined purses (big enough to hold a tube of chapstick) and their alcoholic beverage at the same time.

And the three of us? We didn’t get sweated on, but we danced and sang our asses off in our Ts, tennies, and hoodies and left with our money’s worth.

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