It all started with everyone asking me why I was going without them and when I reminded them that I was invited, they asked if I could somehow bump Colette, so that they could go instead. If I had known that a Gwen Stefani ticket had this much power, I would've bought several tickets, when they first went on sale, and made all my friends and family my personal slaves. With the entire greater Tucson area in the know that I was going to go see Gwen Stefani, I actually got a little excited. Even if it was with Confusing Colette.
Saturday morning, the day of the concert, I awoke to discover we had no ride to Phoenix. Colette had told me, instead of using her car, which was in desperate need of a tune-up, she was going to drive her dad's Firebird Convertible, for that nostalgic, riding-down-the-freeway-with-the-wind-in-our-hair-rock-n-roll kinda feeling. But as but at the last minute, her dad got into an argument with Colette's mother about, of all things, cheese and refused to let Colette or her mother drive the car.
So, with only hours before we had to be on our way, we had to find a way to get to the concert. I would have offered to drive, but everyone in my family was already using a car. My dad was using one for work, both my brothers used one the previous night, when they went out to prom and stayed the night at a hotel party, and my mom was using one to drive all the way to the Pima County Fair, where she would preach the word of God to all the fair-going heathens. It was like a sign that I shouldn't go. Like Karma was at full-time work or something.
Eventually though, after numerous phone calls and one breakdown (Colette's, not mine, which was actually a turn-on because who knew she wanted to go to Phoenix, with me, that badly?), we got a rental car. Why we didn't think of it earlier, I'm not sure, but whatever. And it was free, courtesy of this guy Colette knew, who she claimed, she could make him do anything. Anything. I'll admit it was a little weird when Colette told me how she flirted to get the car, but then again, this is the same girl that has made me forget what it feels like to be shocked.
By the time we got on the road, we only had a couple hours 'til showtime, which meant no stopping at any rest stops along the way, which meant I had to drive because Colette had to put on "her face." Ugh. Normally, I don't like to drive other people's cars on the off-chance I might crash it, but since I was a little upset about how Colette told me how she got the car and the fact that we were running late, I didn't even care.
Somewhere down the freeway, in a town time forgot, called Eloy, I think Colette sensed I was a little mad and she began to massage my right earlobe. Which kinda felt good, I guess. Truth be told, it was actually amazing. It was like she discovered a hidden weak-spot, I never knew I had. Her fingers were all over my ear and she told me she liked my lobes since they were soft and felt like putty, which was ironic since I felt like putty in her hands. By the time we got to Phoenix, I was gone. Who knew that it was a massage, and not music, that soothed the savage beast?
Traffic was brutal, as we tried to get on the off ramp to the concert. It was backed up for about a mile, with all the cars being bumper to bumper. Car radios were blasting music and excited concert-goers were just so pumped that they actually started getting out of their cars to dance and get the party started, right there on the freeway. So, of course, not wanting to look like law-abiding losers, Colette and I joined in the fun, practicing our moves before getting to the arena.
We missed the Lady Sovereign opening act, which wasn’t really a big deal, since neither Colette or I, had never really heard of her, but we were damned if we were gonna miss Akon and Gwen. And that’s when traffic cleared and we were on our way.
The entire crowd was pumped. Everyone was dancing and singing and just having a really good time. Plus, it gave me and Colette a chance to dance, which was a good thing. And gave me the idea that maybe Colette and I should go to more concerts or things where there’s lot’s of hip-shakin’ music. Hmmm. The highlight of the show was when Gwen Stefani ran off the stage and down the aisle, right past my seat, giving me the opportunity to touch her…boob. Life doesn’t get any better than when you’re given the chance to feel up a celebrity.
The Konvict Akon...I know you cant see him, but trust me that's him. Next time I wont take pictures with my Blackberry.
Gwen kicks it off (and takes it off...) with The Sweet Escape
Gwen cooks it up in her song, Yummy...and believe me...Gwen was yummy!
This is Gwen singing to me, Luxurious. Which could be a sign that Gavin might be on his way out...
And here she sings her new song, 4 in the Morning, which, if you havent gotten it yet, is what I based my title after. That and the fact at what happened at 4 in the morning.
After the concert, we headed back home since it was too late at night to go out and too early in the morning to find a suitable hotel. By the time we got back to Colette’s house, we were ready to settle down, just as the sun started to creep up over the mountains.
Colette asked where I wanted to sleep, her bed or the couch, and I opted for the couch. After all, I am a gentleman. Well, hardly, but we were too exhausted to do anything, anyways. Colette left me all alone in her room, saying she would be right back with a blanket and a pillow, but in girl talk, that meant she first had to remove her makeup, take a quick shower, and change into her pajama’s. Maybe she was lying about her energy. Hmmm.
Seconds passed and I couldn’t wait for my bedgear any longer, so, I fell fast asleep in Colette’s bed. I’m not exactly sure how long I was asleep for, but when I woke up, I found myself holding Colette, like the way I used to hold all my stuffed toys when I was four. It was just like my dream. It was a perfect moment. Me, in a black T-shirt and dirty denim jeans and her in a pink baby-T and matching boy shorts, cuddled close with the smell of blackberries on her neck. We could have easily been on the cover of a best-selling romantic novel. Maybe one, entitled, “When You Wish Upon a Star…”
We woke up together, a couple of hours later, but were still too tired to get out of bed. So I just laid my head in Colette’s lap, while she played with my earlobes…
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