SHOW #3, 11/16/05: CHICAGO, THE VERY WINDY CITY

We were all pretty leisurely the next morning, which was Wednesday. The day of the first Chicago show. And when I woke up, I was relieved to discover that yes, that was Amy in bed with me.

Knowing that Chicago was infamous for its wind, and not wanting a repeat performance of ‘seizing-octopus’ hair like I’d had in Cleveland, I decided to put my hair back somehow so it wouldn’t be all in my face. It’s too short to go in a ponytail, so I decided to go with pigtails, which usually holds up a little better. I insisted that Krystal braid these pigtails, which she was a little uncertain about. I’d just gotten a haircut with layers throughout, and so the braids weren’t being as cooperative as they would have been in the past. But I persisted, and she relented. Chelsea took a picture of this process (the beginnings of her paparazzi-dom), and we decided later that I look like a corpse that’s just been embalmed. Or, like I’m totally shit-faced drunk. Ha. And Krystal looks disgusted, like she just found lice or something.


Dead to the world.

You’ll notice my bangs are long, but too short to actually fit into the braid. Haha. Krystal managed to wrestle my thin hair into the two most pitiful-looking little pigtail braids the world has ever witnessed. Meanwhile, I pinned most of my bangs back with clips, to keep them out of my face. When she got done, she stepped back.

“Um, are you sure you want to keep those?” she asked hesitantly. “Maybe you should look in the mirror…”

I brushed her off. Ah, fuck it, I didn’t care. My hair was mostly out of my face, anyway. And besides, who did I have to impress?


Getting on with the day:

I should mention that we all decided that it was in our best interest to upgrade to a suite at our hotel. The Cracker Box wasn’t quite cutting it for five women to stay in, and the hotel staff promised us they’d have a nice, cushy suite ready in an hour (Well, they promised us that about five times throughout the day, actually, but I digress).

So after getting ready and re-packing to move, it was time for breakfast before heading out to explore the HOB area. Since we were too lazy to go anywhere else and look around, we settled on going back to the pizzeria next door (which had a breakfast menu). We left our stuff with the hotel staff, since our new room wasn’t ready, and walked over to eat. It, too, was delicious. I love breakfast food. I eat omelets for dinner all the time. Biscuits and gravy? Bacon? Pancakes? God, I’m getting hungry just writing about it.

Before heading out, Chelsea and I stopped in the bathroom by the lobby. Chelsea, as I have said before, is Krystal’s 16-year-old daughter. To elaborate further, she is a livewire; a frenetic bundle of unrestrained Hanson love. A classic teenager – alternately energetic and lethargic, dramatic, and always laughing or shrieking at something. Prone to random outbursts of hate or love: “Omigod, I hate him!”, “Omigod, I love him!” There’s no in-between with her. She’s a trip. And for some reason, finds me fascinating, as Krystal said. And that’s why the vast majority of pictures for this part of the review include either me or Chelsea, or both of us together. Because the others in our crew were camera-phobes, and Chelsea at some point designated herself my own personal paparazzi. This is pretty much what she looked like the whole trip – armed with a camera in her hand, ready to catch me in some compromising position:


STOP OR I’LL SHOOT.

Back to the original point – so, we decided that that particular bathroom, in the lobby of the Best Western River North, was the ideal place to re-enact Zac’s infamous toilet pose from the VH1 All Access Special. It was Chelsea’s idea. “Omigod, take my picture sitting on this toilet just like Zac!” I, of course, agreed. I posed on it, too, but hers was much better. And much more Zac-like:


(This is the only Zac-on-toilet picture I could find. I KNOW there's one out there where he's got his arms up, which is what Chelsea is demonstrating just below. And I will find it, dammit. But for now, this is a filler picture, so you get the general gist.)

Toilets R Kewl!

We stopped in the lobby to check on the status of our room. Which was, of course, still not ready. Jennifer, Amy, and Krystal chill on the couch for a moment. Krystal looks like a turtle retreating into its shell.


The Three Stooges.

Knowing we would be coming back to the hotel before the show, we set off to do some exploring. Chicago is cold. Really cold, to a warm-blooded pansy like me. I made the mistake of wearing my light coat when we made our trek, and approximately ten seconds into our walk I regretted it. We were about five or six blocks from the House of Blues, which is quite a hike when you’re freezing your ass off.

Nevertheless, we made it there in one piece. Now, Melanie had come with us on the trip, but she had planned to spend most of her time with some friends she knew in Chicago. She didn’t even have a ticket to the show. She had planned to buy one at the ticket office – we even got her to the HOB and right up to the window, but she changed her mind. Decided not to go. Shortly after that, she had her friend pick her up, and we didn’t see her again until the morning we left. Which was all fine and good, but that meant that she missed out on some once-in-a-lifetime Hanson experiences, which are coming up.

We shopped around the HOB store a little bit, but didn’t buy anything. We had reservations at the HOB restaurant at 5 o’clock, so we knew we could do Pass The Line with that. At one point, someone suggested we go check out the poor souls who were camped out in line. We walked back outside into the frigid air and went around the building. And indeed, there was already a small crowd waiting, swaddled in thick jackets and sleeping bags, looking like they were about ready to die.


The front of the line.


Side view.

The people waiting, as I said, looked completely miserable. And there was a sight I’ll never forget – a girl in the very front, wrapped in a hoodie and blanket, holding a cup of coffee. She was staring blankly ahead, and physically shivering so hard that I could see her hands and arms trembling from where I was standing nearly 20 feet away. And I thought, My God. She’s going to die, right here in front of us on the asphalt. Is front row really that worth it? Apparently so, if you ask any of those who were there in line.

Jennifer, who had a room at the Best Western, had also booked a room at the HOB because she’d gotten a major discount on it through her job. She was going to be the only one staying in it that night, but we decided to use it as a hanging-around point all day close to the venue, so we didn’t have to walk back and forth between the HOB and the Best Western all day long. We walked inside the HOB hotel and waited in the lobby while she checked in. And that’s when the Hanson sightings began – Amy began calling them the ‘ubiquitous Hansons’ because we saw them so often.

First, Zac. Chelsea saw him first, I believe, but didn’t actually realize it was him until he’d come and gone. Zac, we’ve decided, is a master at blending in. He has learned just how to slither by, to hunker down and seem completely anonymous in a crowd. Like a chameleon, or a shape-shifter. He snuck right past us and no one noticed. Taylor, as you will see later, can’t do that. Or it could be that he chooses not to do that, which I think might actually be the case.

Once Zac disappeared, we eventually noticed Hanson family members over in the corner of the lobby – Diana, Avery, Zoey and Ezra. Plus, the dog. The young ones were acting like your typical kids – screaming, wrestling, throwing down. Ezra kept shouting, “You wanna do karate? Wanna do karate?” while throwing little punches and kicks at his relatives. Amy thought that was too precious for words – “He was so cute,” she kept saying for the rest of the night. We tried to watch without really watching, and a few minutes later, Jennifer was checked in and we headed up to the 7th floor.

The House of Blues Hotel has some interesting décor. Getting off the elevator, we noticed a house phone on a table, decorated with a small wall of bottle caps that were nailed together. It looked a lot cooler than it sounds. As I reached into my pocket, I realized that I had an Ale8 bottle cap, from one I’d drunk earlier. Laughing, I pulled it out and neatly placed it on top of the bottle-cap wall. There was a perfect spot for it on the top, and it blended right in. On a side note, later in the day when we came back upstairs, that bottle cap was gone. We figured it was either the maid, having discovered a stray cap, or a fellow Hanson fan who recognized the ‘Ale8’ logo. So, yeah – if you’re reading this and you took it, ‘fess up. Ha.

The inside of Jennifer’s room was striped, sort of like a candy cane. Chelsea took a picture of the bed, and I honestly didn’t realize I was in the frame. I leaned over, thinking it would be funny if I just jumped in part of her shot. So I basically just look like a crazy woman. Like one of the homeless people who kept harassing us at Bogart’s. haha.


Idiocy at its finest.

At some point, Stephanie went downstairs to the lobby. She called back up to say that she’d just seen Hanson and crew getting on the elevator. So, Chelsea and I decided it was an ideal time to go get some ice for the room. Grabbing the bucket from the room, we patrolled the hallways, searching for the, um, ice machine. And in this picture, for some reason I’m carrying my coat and wearing my gloves.


Trolling the hallways for “ice.”

Well, we didn’t find any Hansons, but we did find the ice and vending machine, which was helpful, I suppose. After that excitement died down, we settled back and chilled for awhile. I had brought my notebook with me, so I could start working on my Hanson Advent Christmas story. Chelsea got yet another picture of me, doing just that, right here:


Lost in thought.

Eventually, all of us who weren’t staying overnight at the HOB decided to head back to the Best Western to change and get ready for the show. We took different route going back to our hotel, choosing to head left first rather than go right up the street. We saw Starbucks up ahead, and Stephanie said, “Oh! We should stop at Starbucks for coffee!”

Let it be known right here that I agreed with her. I was all for stopping at Starbucks. The others voted no, however, noting that we could get something hot to drink after we came back to the HOB. Stephanie and I gave in. As we passed by Starbucks, I gazed longingly in the window, and stared straight into the eyes of Zac Hanson, who was sitting in a chair right up front. His little brother and some other boy were with him. He stared straight at us as we walked pass, making eye contact with each of us, his face totally blank. We managed to keep walking and act nonchalant. At least until we were past Starbucks, and therefore out of sight.

Stephanie insisted we go in. “We were wanting to go in there anyway,” she pointed out. Stephanie has a way of making everything sound so reasonable. She could talk a cannibal into converting to vegetarianism. “We’ll just go in and get some coffee.”

I, however, was too embarrassed. It didn’t matter if he knew we were fans or not (I’m sure he did), but after having him stare right at me with that expression, I was like, scared to go in. It sounds ridiculous, but I almost wanted to hide. Maybe it was the expression on his face, I don’t know. But I just knew that I did not want to go in that coffee shop and risk having Zac Hanson get irritated at me. Strange.

In the end, we decided not to go in, and continued our trek to the Best Western to get ready.

The Waiting is the Hardest Part:

After changing, we headed back to the HOB yet again. Walking past Starbucks, we were disappointed to see that Zac had left. We were all dying for a hot drink to stave off the cold, but we again decided to bypass Starbucks and headed on up to the HOB hotel, opting to get some coffee somewhere around there and wait. Wait, wait, wait.

We eventually ended up in the restaurant/bar/coffee shop that was attached to the HOB hotel, which was called Bin 36. It was a very open place – large glass walls around the outermost perimeter, giving everyone inside a perfect view of the goings-on around the House of Blues. And, of course, letting everyone outside in line see who was hanging out inside. Which is why it was so shocking when Taylor Hanson showed up.

When we came into Bin 36, we met up with Shannon (shypurplepanda on h.net), who I had never spoken to, but who talks to Stephanie. Like me, she was wearing pigtails, although hers were much cuter, and she had a perpetual smile on her face. The exact instant we were being introduced to her, someone in our group cried out, “There goes Zac!”

We all turned to look and watched as Zac casually strolled over to the HOB and started beating on the door to be let in (must have been locked, I suppose). Chelsea, even in her frenzied state, managed to snag a picture.


My, Zac has a nice… jacket.

Once everyone calmed their hormones, we picked a booth and sat down. Shannon was all aflutter, because she’d just seen Isaac. “Look, I’m shaking,” she said at one point. “I’ve never been that close to them before.”

We ordered hot drinks (including the world’s worst hot chocolate, obviously made from a mix and not even enough of it, at that. Mine wasn’t even stirred up all the way). We settled in, chatting idly. All the while, we noticed random Hansons walking back and forth outside in front of the glass windows. “Oh, there goes Ike,” “Hey, isn’t that Taylor?” and “I think Zac just came out again,” were sprinkled throughout our conversations. As I said, we saw them so much that it almost became commonplace.

I’d brought my notebook with me, as I mentioned before, and it stayed by my side throughout the day. While everyone else chatted, I was writing, only partially aware of the conversations going on around me.


Ella’s Embarrassing Moment #3 (aka Thirty Seconds with Taylor Hanson)

So, we’d been there awhile, just hanging out and talking. At one point, as I was writing, I half-heard Amy say, “I hope they play Desire tonight.”

“Oh,” I said absentmindedly, not noticing that everyone at the table had suddenly gone dead silent. “Don’t worry. They’ve played it at like, every show…”

As I said this, I looked up from my notebook, and straight into the eyes of Taylor Hanson.

Later, I learned that Stephanie saw him first. She was on the end, and she claims she heard the clacking of his boots on the tile, and somehow knew it was going to be him. I discovered that everyone at the table had gone silent because he’d just walked in. Except for me, of course, who was rambling about their shows. As I said, he looked right at me for a second. He was wearing a scarf, a polo hat, a cell phone pressed to his ear, and an Apple laptop clutched against his chest. He did a quick survey of the mostly empty restaurant, no doubt checking for fans. Well, he was in luck – besides us, there weren’t a lot there at the time.

We did the whole ‘watch without watching’ thing as he strolled over and took a seat across the way from us. At first, I thought no one else was going to notice, and I wasn’t sure if we should make the move. However, then we heard this girl exclaim, “You’re Taylor Hanson!” That’s something I don’t get. Why would you announce his presence to the entire restaurant? If he comes in unnoticed and you want a picture with him, why wouldn’t you just go up and quietly ask? I mean, hell. Isn’t he more likely to acquiesce and/or to talk to you if you’re discreet about it? I don’t understand. Regardless, after watching her flip out, we decided that if we were gonna do it, we better do it quick, before he was attacked.

Chelsea, Krystal, Stephanie, Shannon and I walked over. There was one ‘group’ in front of us, but I think he was signing something for them, because he was still at the table and they were off to the side. I was first of our group, Canon Powershot in hand. As I approached him, I tried to formulate a polite way to ask for a picture in my mind. I sort of planted myself in front of him and smiled, cursing myself for wearing fucking pigtails on this day of all days. He looked up.

“Uh…” I said. “Could we…?” I don’t remember if I even finished the question. I don’t think I did. So much for my carefully scripted conversation.

Watching him absorb all this was the strangest thing. He looked at me, and then his eyes quickly darted all over – to everyone behind me, to the other girls who were waiting on him. It was like he was taking a mental inventory; carefully assessing the fans who were there and placing them in chronological order of who had asked first in his mind.

Then his phone rang. “Hang on, guys, I have to take this,” he said. He picked it up; it must have been their tour manager. “Yeah, Bex, I’ll be there in a few minutes.”

He talked for only a moment before hanging up. Then he looked back at me. “Yeah,” he said. He sort of held a hand up, indicating that I should wait. “Just let me get with them.”

“Sure.” I watched as he took a picture with the aforementioned girl who had shrieked. Her boyfriend (we assumed) took the picture for her, which we all thought was hilarious. He was a good sport, though. More boyfriends should be supportive of their girlfriends’ Hanson obsessions.

As he finished up with them, suddenly another small group of girls appeared from nowhere, stalking across the restaurant, motoring towards Taylor like bees racing towards honey. “TAYLOR!!” one girl shouted, trying to divert his attention to her. I wanted to punch her in the face. When it comes to asking for autographs/pictures/etc., I’m not aggressive. I can’t bring myself to pester someone or get in their face, and I don’t have the balls to say to pushy fans, “Hey, bitch, wait your turn.” I fully expected him to go over to her and her friends, since she was creating such a scene, and thus forget all about us quietly standing to the side.

To my surprise, he didn’t. Like I said, I think it was part of his mental inventory. We’d come up to him second, and we were going to get our pictures second. Next, next, and next.

So he came over, and I became suddenly shy, shoving the camera at Stephanie and standing next to him. I can’t remember if I said anything to him at that moment, but I put my arm around him without even thinking about it – it’s just a reflex, something I’ve always done. It felt very natural. He didn’t seem disgusted, which was a plus.

Stephanie held the camera up; I grinned wildly. I know you've all seen this before, but I don't care. Look at it again:


The greatest picture of Taylor Hanson EVER.

I can’t believe it turned out that well. I don’t look entirely like a doofus, although I’m still pissed about the pigtails. Jesus.

As Stephanie snapped the photo, she said, “Hey, Taylor. What do you think of that tour poster our friend drew for you all in Cleveland?”

“It was amazing!” he enthused, which seemed to indicate that he did indeed remember it. Meanwhile, I got all excited about the discussion of Lily’s poster and began rambling about her insane talent.

“Oooh! Yes! Wasn’t it great? Susan is soooo talented, oh my God. She’s amazing…” During my rambling speech, Krystal tried to snap a quick picture, and although it turned out blurry, you get the idea:


So... you like… stuff?

We thought this picture was hilarious because it looks like I’m just gazing at Taylor with all this unbridled adoration. Like I think he’s the only man on earth or something. When in reality, all the adulation in my face is focused towards Lily. Haha.

Once I was done, I turned and looked him right in the eyes. I’d been warned about that before – basically everyone I’ve ever talked to has said that Taylor has some sort of intense, you-are-the-center-of-the-universe gaze when talking to fans. The kind of expression that turns girls into puddles. However, I looked straight at him, and said, very solemnly, “Thank you. I appreciate it.” And that was it. Didn't even tell him my name (which was probably a good thing). And I remember thinking, as I was standing there looking at him in the flesh, that he seemed so normal -- no giant head, no soul-searing gaze, no impossible tallness. He was just a boy. A very cute boy who just happened to be semi-famous.

Once I’d moved over, Chelsea was up next. Her pictures turned out great, as well:


Staring to the side.


Looking at the same camera this time.

While Chelsea and Shannon were getting their poses with Taylor, I decided to get out of the way and walked back to our table in a daze. As soon as I sat down, I realized that I’d completely forgotten to ask him to sign anything. In fact, I’d walked all the way over there and even held my notebook the entire time, but the autograph completely slipped my mind. I was disappointed. I wanted him to sign something, but… I didn’t want to have to go over there again. Like I said, I’m not aggressive. So I debated. Should I, shouldn’t I?

By some stroke of luck, despite being in the glass-walled coffee shop in plain view of anyone outside hanging around the HOB, very few girls had noticed Taylor was there. I watched as he began signing things for others, and then I decided that since he wasn’t being mobbed, and since I would probably never get the opportunity again, I’d go for it. I briefly wondered what interesting thing I could have him sign, and then it hit me: I’d get him to sign the story I’d been working on – the Catapult-related Christmas story for Eve's Hanson Advent Calendar. It would be hilarious, I decided. Without thinking, I flipped my notebook open to the page I’d been working on and got up from the table.

Stephanie wanted to have him autograph her setlist book, so we walked over together. She was first – he looked up, apparently recognizing her, and they got into a small discussion about how many shows she’d attended. When she was done, I stepped up to him again, feeling a little silly.

“Excuse me,” I said. “But… I’m a writer. And I’ve been working on this story…” I paused briefly there to keep from laughing. “And I would love it if you would sign it.”

His eyebrows quirked, just barely. It was a look that said he thought it was a somewhat odd request, but he’d heard worse in the past. “Uh, sure,” he said, and I planted my notebook down on the table in front of him. He stared down at it for a moment or two, since he didn’t have a pen. Finally, I snapped out of it and shoved mine in his face. “Ha,” he said, “and you can put ‘By Taylor Hanson’ on it.”

(As I told my friend Heather this part, she burst out laughing and said, “Oh, I bet you were like, ‘Hold up, Hanson, let’s not get crazy now!’”

And I said, “Yeah, actually. I was.”)

“Haha,” I said flatly, because no matter how pretty he is, and even though I knew he was joking, there was no way in hell I was going to give him credit for something I’d done. It was sort of comical, actually, how protective I felt. Like, ‘Yeah, sure, Taylor. And how about you give me credit for writing Lost Without Each Other? Yeah, that’s what I thought.’

Nevertheless, I played along. “You know,” I said, suddenly feeling mischievous. “When I get it published, I’ll give you a byline.”

I wish, I wish I could describe to you the expression on his face when I said that. He actually stopped mid-scribble and looked up at me, his eyes scrunched in confusion. “A what?!” he exclaimed. He looked sort of like this:


“What the fuck did you just say?”

In the few short milliseconds after he said that, I mentally re-stated the words that had just come out of my mouth, trying to figure out what had confused him so much. And it sort of hit me, then – after all, hadn’t other people commented on my accent all during this trip? I’d just made the mistake of saying a word that contained not one, but two long ‘i’ sounds, which is pretty much a kamikaze for southern girls trying to sound intelligent. I realized that to his ears, what I’d just said probably sounded like, “Ah’ll give yew uh baaaah-laaaaahn,” which technically isn’t even a part of the English language.

So what did I do? I repeated it, of course. “You know,” I said, hoping to make myself better understood this time, “a byline.”

He looked like he was trying not to laugh. “Uh, right,” he said and finished signing the page. With a smirk, he handed it to me. I smirked back.

“Thank you!” I chirped, and walked away.

I was very smug upon returning to the table, glowing and excited, despite the fact that I suspected Taylor Hanson had just made fun of my accent. Taylor, meanwhile, had signed for all the fans, and once he was alone, pulled out his laptop and began typing. He also pulled out his phone, and Chelsea got a picture of him making a call:


“…he’s a magic man, mama, he’s got magic hands…”

She tried to take more, but they were all blurry. “Omigod, my hands keep shaking,” she said. “I had to set the camera down on the table just to get a clear picture.”

Taylor typed away for a few minutes, undisturbed. He didn’t order anything; in fact, he’d already had a cup of Starbucks when he’d walked in. Finally, he packed up and strolled out, his phone pressed up to his ear as he left – I suspect it was a decoy, although I supposed he could have actually been talking to someone. We watched, amused, as a small trail of girls (who must have been waiting for him to get up) suddenly ran after him.

As I said, I was feeling very smug. “Taylor just signed a fan fiction,” I crowed when he was gone, flipping my notebook open. “Look!”

I then wondered what in the hell I’d actually had him sign, since I’d opened my book without thinking. I glanced down at the page:


Of all the pages to ask him to sign…

And do you realize the one word that leaped out at me? Yeah, that’s right. “Throb.” I'd been writing a short scene that involved my characters gettin' it on, and he just so happened to walk in while I was in the middle of it. Fantastic. Wouldn’t it figure? Of all the pages in that book to ask him to sign, it would be that one? Granted, there’s not much on that page (and his name isn’t on it, thank God), it’s not graphic, and it’s not in context, but yeah. You can tell what's going on. I’d just asked Taylor Hanson to sign his own sex scene. Meanwhile, I frantically prayed that he hadn’t had time to absorb any of the writing on the page. I mean, he wouldn’t have had time to read it, but there were those few seconds while he waited on me to hand him a pen. What if “throb” had leaped out at him like it leaped out at me? Oh, the humiliation.


Me, post-Taylor.

So, I was mortified by this situation for about ten minutes. But then, I thought, ‘Hell. What can you do? It’s funny.’ And now I have a hilarious story to tell.

The day AT (After Taylor):

Once Taylor left, we all whipped out our phones and began frantically calling anyone who would care that we’d just met Taylor Hanson.


"OMG GINA GUESS WHAT!"

Stephanie is talking to Lily, Chelsea is talking to her friend Brian, and I’m talking to Gina. I told her about the picture, and since she is a fanfic writer herself, I had to tell her about my silly autograph. And the fact that it was on some sex.

“Oh my God, that is so funny,” she kept saying. “That is so funny.”

I didn’t realize this at the time, but Shannon recently told me that at one point, everyone at the table stopped talking and started watching Chelsea and I on our respective phones, because apparently our enthusiasm was entertaining. “You all were talking so fast,” she said. “No one could understand what you were saying.”

When we got off the phones, Chelsea and I walked over to Taylor’s chair. She took a picture of it, and then I took a picture of her sitting in it, haha. I was like, “Just think, Taylor’s butt was there! His germs are all over that chair!”

That thrilled her. “Omigod! I have Taylor germs on me!”


Taylor’s ass wuz here. *choir of angels sing*


Chelsea sitting in the Throne.

Our waiter, who was approximately 6’8” and amused by our antics, came over and shook his head at us after Taylor left. We’d told him earlier that we were there for Hanson shows, and he found our silliness over Taylor highly amusing. Especially the fact that we’d had our picture taken with him (and not only that, but taken a picture with his chair. haha).

“Awww,” I said. “Hey, if it’ll make you feel better, I’ll take a picture with you, too!”

So I did.


Me and the Giant.

Of course, though he teased us, he also made a confession of his own. “I shouldn’t talk,” he said, “because last night, at midnight, I was out buying Madonna’s new album.”

“See?” we said. “You understand!”

He agreed, and told us about how he got to be Madonna’s waiter once, back in the ‘80’s. It was his job to keep people from bothering her while she ate, he said, and there was one man in particular who kept wanting to buy Madonna a $200 bottle of wine. The waiter (whose name I don’t think we even asked) told this man no repeatedly. “So then he asks for something from her table,” the waiter said. “And I said—” he stopped at that point, rubbing his fingers together to indicate he wanted money. “And do you know what he offered me?”

“What?”

“Twenty dollars!”

We laughed – that, from a man who had been willing to spend $200 on wine for her. “So what did you do?”

“I took his money, then went back in the kitchen and found a glass that had lipstick on it and gave it to him. Then, after she left, I took home everything from her table.”

We laughed and cheered. Spoken like a true, hardcore fanatic.

I don’t remember how the topic came up, but I think we were discussing why in the world Taylor chose to come to that coffee shop, when it was right there in the hubbub of the HOB – actually attached to the hotel; and especially when he was in plain sight of the people waiting outside in line.

“He wanted to be noticed,” Stephanie said. “Otherwise, he would have just stayed at Starbucks with his coffee, where no one would have bothered him.”

The waiter agreed – he had actually gone over to Taylor to ‘take his order’ when he’d been in there. “Oh, he definitely wanted to be seen,” he said. I think I agree with both of them. Because if Taylor had wanted a place to sit, type on his laptop, and make a few calls, there were definitely better options than Bin 36. Starbucks, his hotel room, one of the conference/business rooms in the hotel. Hell, the bar inside the HOB hotel would have been better – at least it was dark in there. As Stephanie said, maybe he was feeling lonely, and just had that need to be noticed.

We left the coffee shop shortly after that (after paying $3.25 for the worst-tasting hot chocolate I’ve ever had). Up to Jennifer’s room, where we put our stuff away and prepared for dinner and the show – one of the advantages of having a room there was that we could leave our coats. We planned to stay inside as long as possible before getting in the ‘Pass the Line’ line.

While in the room, Chelsea messed around with her camera.


Amy, standing inside a giant candy cane.

I left the room for a minute, and when I came back, she ran up to me. “LOOK WHAT I DID!”

Chelsea loves mirrors.

And, of course, she wanted a picture with her autograph. “He wrote my name!” she squealed.


To Chelsea, with love.

When we were finally ready, we briefly braved the cold again, sans jackets, and scuttled over to the restaurant for our 5:00 reservations.

Highlights, notes, and random bits:

• Security was rabid and ridiculous the first night. The Pass the Line line started going in at six. Since we ate at the restaurant, we got to do PtL, but since we had no coats and didn’t want to stand in the cold, we decided to wait until that line was almost through before jumping in. We didn’t think it would take that long – we were wrong. By the time we got inside (and keep in mind, we’re in the first line to go in, there was still a line of ‘regular’ ticket-holders on the other side of the building), it was 6:45. We ended up missing all of one opening band, although that didn’t upset me too terribly much.
  
  
• Our floor position. Right behind the soundbooth, leaning against it. Standing in one place for hours on end kills my back. I have to be moving around or something. But it helped to have the short walls of the soundbooth right in front of us, so I could rest against it when I was tired. There were two guys in the booth – one guy who was in charge of lighting, who had mullet-ish hair, and Hanson’s sound guy, who bears an uncanny resemblance to Otto from the Simpsons. Just imagine this guy working the controls:
  
  
  Hanson’s sound guy.
  
  And having learned my lesson in Cincinnati, as soon as the guys entered the booth, I poked my head over and asked them (individually) if I could have the setlist once the show was over. Mullet said, “Sure.” Otto looked annoyed but also said, “Okay.”
  
  
• The HOB restaurant has surprisingly good food. This particular night I had the Flatiron Steak Salad and an apple martini, which was strong. Later, when I was talking to Krystal and Chelsea, Chelsea goes, “Oh my God, I can smell your breath.” haha.
  
  Also, at some point during dinner, we were all informed that Taylor was Chelsea’s boyfriend. Good to know.
  
  
• The opening bands were blah. We missed most of the first one, as I said (for some reason, they had two opening-opening bands, then PMB). I don’t even know what they were called. Then, Escape from Earth came out, and they were probably my least favorite opener out of all four that we saw. The singer annoyed me, tossing around his Kurt Cobain dirty blond hair and preening. PMB came on, and Pat McGee ran up to the microphone, looking frazzled. “I just got off a plane and ran straight here!” he proclaimed, which I thought was just him talking a bunch of shit. After reading his tour journal later, however, I realized he wasn’t joking – he literally showed up at the venue and walked directly onstage with his band. Hahaha. They played the same set as the previous two shows I’d seen.
  
  
• Poor Krystal. Not being very tall, she was pleased to have the open space of the soundbooth in front of her (rather than a crowd), so that she could see. However, during Hanson’s set, none other than Walker Hanson (who is approximately 10’6”) came up through the crowd and entered the booth to talk to Otto the Sound Guy. He stood directly in front of Krystal, effectively blocking her from seeing any part of the stage. Haha.
  
  Of course, I was such a dumbass that I didn’t even realize it was him. I kept thinking, ‘Wow, that guy looks like Hanson’s dad.’ Oh, wait. It was Hanson’s dad. Heh.
  
  
• I believe it was this show where Stephanie pointed out Zac’s ‘dancing’. During the acoustic set (MMMBop, specifically), Zac sort of does this shifty/shoulder-shrugging little dance thing to the beat. Stephanie pointed at him and said, “Zac’s a master of the White Man Shuffle. Look at him.” Haha. It’s kind of like having a small seizure while standing up.
  
  
• The Chicago HOB looks so huge in the UAL DVD. It looks like the crowd goes back forever. That must have been a clever camera trick on behalf of Hanson, however, because the venue is much smaller in real life. It isn’t deep at all, meaning it doesn’t extend away from the stage nearly as much as it appears on the DVD. The floor directly in front of the stage was relatively small, though there were plenty of bar areas (three, if I recall correctly) lining it on every side. Plus, there were tiers of balconies, although we weren’t allowed to go up there and look around.
  
  Nevertheless, it was kind of cool to see the place, having watched UAL many times and admiring the ‘gilded balconies’ (as Taylor calls them) and décor.
  
  
• Some dude dressed as Captain America (from what I could tell, though it might have been some other random superhero) appeared on one of the balconies with a bullhorn and began shouting at the crowd. Then he started throwing t-shirts at people. From what I gathered, he was there with the radio station. I desperately wanted to take my picture with him, too (how great would that be? A picture with Taylor Hanson, some random giant waiter, and Captain America all in the same day?), but alas, he never came anywhere near us all night.
  
  
• The show was fun, but pretty standard. They opened with In a Way (or is it On My Way? See below.), and because we were in the exact center of the venue and unobstructed by people or architecture, I was treated to a full-frontal, perfect view of Taylor on the drums. Sweet Jesus. Speaking in terms of technical skill, he’s probably just an adequate drummer, I imagine (I’m no drum expert). But he’s absolutely dripping with sex appeal while he plays, and I don’t know many drummers who possess that. I don’t know why Taylor-on-drums is so hot, it just is.
  
  Other highlights included Hey, Down, Every Word I Say, and Crazy Beautiful, which I seriously just can’t get enough of. They also played You Never Know towards the end of the show, which thrilled me to no end, because I’d been waiting eons to hear that song live.
  
  Just before the encore, I leaned back into the sound booth (annoying Mullet and Otto to no end, I’m sure) and politely reminded them about the setlists. To my surprise, Mullet immediately rolled his up in a little tube and surreptitiously handed it to me, as if he didn’t want anyone else to see. I grinned, elated, and thanked him profusely.
  
  Setlist scan:
  
  Thank God for Mullets.
  
  On My Way? Hmm. Is that just a typo, or is that the name of the song? Has Hanson actually come out and said somewhere that the song is called In a Way? I can’t remember. I wish I had the list from another show, so I could compare. Who actually types these things up, anyway?

After the Show:

Clutching my newly acquired setlist in my hand, I followed the rest of the group out of the venue and into the freezing-cold air. We decided to chill in Jennifer’s room for a bit before going back to our hotel, so that we could avoid the crowds and warm up. Although once we got up to her room, I laid down on her bed, curled on my side to rest, and fell asleep. Haha. The toll of the day’s adventures had finally caught up with me, I suppose – getting up early (anything before noon is early for me), wandering around, briefly meeting Hansons, jumping up and down at Taylor’s commands during the energetic set, all of it. The first thing I did upon getting to Jennifer’s room was suck down two or three glasses of water, then crash.

I groggily sat up later, informed that we were heading back to our hotel. And not only that, but the others were hungry and wanted to go back to the pizzeria for some food. Pizza? That immediately woke me up.

At the pizzeria, I was depressed to discover that there would be no deep-dish pizza for me that night, because it was going to take 45 minutes to cook it (something to do with it being so late when we got there, I don’t know). Oh, well.

After eating, we went back to the room to get some sleep. Chelsea had the rollaway cot, so she laid down and punctuated the rest of the evening with cries of, “I miss Taylor” and the like (all while reminding us that they were still dating). Amy and I shared the pull-out bed, which had a giant dent in the center. Actually, it was more like a valley. Once, when I was on vacation with my family, my sister and I shared a bed like that, and we spent all night rolling into the center (and consequently, into each other), and punching the other from frustration. So to prevent that from reoccurring, I put a bunch of pillows in the middle as a buffer between Amy and me. Haha. It worked like a charm.



 

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