Duran Duran!

It’s a Wednesday night, way past my bedtime, I have a baby that will for sure be waking up in just a few hours needing my attention, plus my hips ache and feet are swelling from standing up for 4 hours on concrete in a hot, sweaty room, packed in like a sardine with hundreds of other advanced-maternal-age ladies, looking to reclaim a piece of our youth.  Longest run-on-sentence ever…sorry.  But my brain is not functioning today, and that’s a small price to pay for the trip down memory lane I was able to partake in last night.  Here's how it all started…


To get two mothers of young children out to a club, downtown, on a weeknight, is an act of God.  After some elaborate scheming involving swapping kids, babysitting husbands & a ham sandwich shoved in my purse to be eaten in the car, we were on our way.  First little bit of excitement occurred with a sketchy gentleman who tried to shake us down for $5 to park our car on the street in a free parking zone.  We obviously scream, “Hi, come take advantage of us, because we really don’t get out much!”  Anyway, my friend handled him well…so proud of her. 


Got in line to pick up our tickets at will call, hand my receipt to the guy behind the window, and he says he’ll come meet us at the door.  Huh?  Why don’t you just give us our tickets through the window like everyone else.  So, we meet him at the door, he hands us our tickets and proceeds to put paper wristbands on us & point to a line of people on the other side of the building.  “OK, here you go, and that’s where you get in line for the Meet & Greet.”  WHAT?  Did he say Meet & Greet?  We must have looked at him like he was insane, because he said, “Well, you have VIP tickets, don’t you?”  (Note to self…in the future, do NOT act surprised when someone asks you if you have VIP tickets.  Nod & say, of course I do!)  My friend and I wander off in complete shock in the direction of the Meet & Greet line.  I hear something resembling the Alleluia chorus in my head and immediately think…YES!!!!!  This is what I have been waiting my ENTIRE life for!  I’m going to meet Duran Duran!!  I might even get to touch John Taylor!!!  This is divine payback for all the disappointments and suffering I’ve ever experienced in my ENTIRE life!!! God is so good!!!  Thank you, Jesus, you reward all those who persevere!!!  And then, like a really loud scratch on a record, the guy comes & FINDS US IN THE LINE, says, “Sorry, I was wrong, you guys don’t have VIP tickets and you’re not on the list, and he CUTS the wristbands off our arms & leads us over to the big long awful line for all the sad, regular people.  Rats.


OK, my friend and I are mature enough not to cry or throw a tantrum or anything like that.  I mean, we are no worse off now than we were when we pulled up to the place a few minutes ago.  Let’s just forget this happened & just have a good time & enjoy the show.  We end up getting a spot about 10 rows of people back from the stage, so we were about 20 feet away from the band.  We waited and waited for the band to come on.  And waited.  And got tired & started thinking about all the ways we would pay for this the next day.  But when the band came on stage, it was all worth it.  Simon, albeit a little chubbier & with darker hair and a beard, is still an excellent front man.  Full of energy, swagger and that certain something that just makes you feel like you’re the happiest you’ve been in a long time.  Nick Rhodes looks EXACTLY the same.  I swear, I need to find out his skin care regimen, because he looks amazing.  Roger Taylor is still the mysterious one of the lot, not showing much expression, but I guess that’s kind of hard to do when you’re stuck behind a drum kit.  But he looked pretty much the same as I remembered, as well.  Then you’ve got the Andy Taylor replacement, who was fine.  And really, if we’re all honest with ourselves, who cares about Andy Taylor anyways?  His absence is not a detriment to the band in any way.


And now…the best for last…you know it…John Taylor, born Nigel John Taylor, aka “Tigger”, birthdate: June 20, 1960, bass player extraordinaire, and yes, my mommy-mush-brain remembers all this, even though I cannot remember what I had for breakfast yesterday.  Can I put a measure on how much I *loved* John Taylor in the early-mid 80s?  I tried to explain it to Susan like it’s the way all your friends *love* Justin Bieber.  Except that John Taylor is WAY cooler than Justin Bieber…lol.  Anyway, John looked awesome, even with his little receding hairline.  He still has a really charming smile & a twinkle in his eye, which is why I was always smitten with him.  He just looks like a fun person to be around.


So, they opened with some of their new songs, which are actually pretty good.  Will have to download some from itunes.  But the first oldie they played was Planet Earth, followed by Hungry Like the Wolf, and everybody went crazy.  There were some girls doing the hysterical Beatles-scream, which was a bit over the top.  But nonetheless, I did do a little screaming from time to time, and my voice is paying the price today.  Other highlights included White Lines and Careless Memories.  They did NOT play Save A Prayer, which in hindsight, is probably a good thing.  It’s kind of like, when you’re a kid, you think Twinkies are the best dessert ever, and then you take a bite of one as an adult and realize it tastes like shit.  Anyway, they did play my other major favorites, like Rio and Girls on Film.


The hit of nostalgia is like a high that I’m hoping will last me through the weekend.  Each song evoked a different memory…some good (Dad: “Jennifer, I just don’t UNDERSTAND why you like boys who wear MAKEUP!”) to some not as good…boyfriends, times/feelings of awkwardness, uncertainty, teen angst, etc.  If the “Me” today could just go back and tell the “Me” of 1983 that everything is going to turn out great.  Yes, you WILL eventually kiss a real boy & not your pillow (alas, it will not be John Taylor), yes, you will find love and happiness, although it will not be in exactly the current form that you’re imagining.  I would tell myself that turning 40 is nothing to worry about…40 means you can finally give up on that silly idea of what you thought your life would be and start living the life you have.  Who needs therapy when you can just go to a Duran Duran show on a Wednesday night?  And BTW, the Go-Go’s are coming in August…who’s with me?!?!?!

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