That's Sir Paul McCartney to You.....

Recently Paul McCartney rolled into NYC and did a 3 show stint at CitiField the new home of the Mets. The concerts were the first concerts to ever be held at CitiField, and if you ask me, unless Paul comes back, there might as well not be any other shows, no one can compare.

The first time I saw Paul McCartney was in 1993 at the Cincinnati Reds ballpark. I went with my parents, my brother, my cousin and his girlfriend at the time and 2 of my brother's friends. My parents have always been huge Beatles fans, my father more so than my mother. (I think my mother just thought Paul was cute.) And they thought it would be a great musical experience to see an ex-Beatle in concert. I still remember the day we got the tickets. I was told to stay home on the phone and keep calling Ticketmaster while my mother and brother drove to the local Ticketmaster office (45 minutes east) to stand in line for tickets. This was all before the days of ordering tickets "online". My Dad wanted to make sure we got 4 tickets so if I couldn't get through on the phone, there was a chance my mother and bro would get tickets at the office. Much to our surprise we both got tickets! I remember at the time not wanting to announce I was going to a Paul McCartney concert. Being in the 8th grade hip-hop and pop-rock were cool, not classic rock. However, after the amazing experience of the concert, I proudly wore my Paul McCartney t-shirt my parents bought me at the concert the next day to school, and told everyone about my night. I still remember that concert, I remember my feelings, my emotions, even if I was only 13 years old. Although there were huge screens flanking the stage, I remember my mom saying she couldn't watch the screens, she only wanted to watch Paul, because it was such a treat to be able to see him on stage. Agreed.

Since then I have been to 3 more Paul concerts, one with my Dad and brother, one with an ex boyfriend of mine, and one with my brother and a friend of his, and this past weekend was my 5th. It was announced that Paul was going to be doing 3 shows at CitiField. I instantly wanted to go, but completely forgot to go online and get tix. A couple of weeks ago I thought it would be fun to look on StubHub and see if any tickets were available. And what do you know? They had 2 tickets, upper level, dead center. Score! I called my husband (who is not an avid Beatles OR Paul McCartney fan) and told him that I bought the tickets, we were going, and it was going to be the best concert of his life.

The day of the concert was perfect. It started at 8:00 pm. We pulled into the parking lot to find hundreds of people tailgating. The parking lot reminded me of a Jimmy Buffett concert, not Paul McCartney. I had packed us chips, guacamole, salsa, hummus, crackers and cheese, and of course a bottle of wine. We parked next to two guys, both in their early 30s, both wearing vintage Beatles t-shirts, both stoned, and both jamming to the White album. Perfect, now this is where I want to park. We got out of the car, opened the wine bottle and the song playing on the boombox was the first Beatles song I ever learned, 'Rocky Raccoon'. Growing up I had a stuffed raccoon that I slept with and every night when my father tucked me into bed he would sing me the song, 'Rocky Raccoon'. The emotions already started running high...

At 7:15 I told my husband we should make our way into the stadium. As we walked in, we passed a group of 50 some year olds who asked us why were we in such a hurry, Paul wasn't taking the stage until 8:50. We laughed and continued inside. I wanted to make sure I was in my seat when Paul took the stage, I didn't want to miss a beat. Sure enough the guy was right, at 8:30, "The Show will begin in 20 minutes" came across the big screens that flanked both sides of the stage. At 8:40, it read, "The Show will begin in 10 minutes" and at 8:50, the lights dimmed and Sir Paul McCartney took the stage, literally.

My heart fluttered, I was rendered speechless, I couldn't even scream or holler like the rest of the crowd. I stood there, clapping my hands so fast they hurt. He immediately broke into 'Drive My Car' which I have to admit is not my favorite Beatle song, but it didn't matter, I was dumbfounded. The next song, "Jet" absolutely rocked! The line, "I thought the major was a lady suffragette. Jet! Jet!" with Paul yelling it so gracefully into the microphone absolutely sent chills down my spine. I couldn't help but yell Jet! while I threw my right arm in the air.

A few songs later, Paul made his way to the piano, and if someone can tickle the ivory, it's Sir Paul. 'The Long and Winding Road' and 'My Love' (which he dedicated to his late wife Linda) were absolutely beautiful, but if that didn't tug at your heartstrings, then the solo acoustic version of 'Blackbird' and 'Here Today' would. Yes, that's right for 2 songs, Paul stood on stage by himself doing an acoustic version of the 2 songs...tears. 'Here Today' which he dedicated to his good friend John Lennon has always reminded me of my mom. So naturally I teared up, but to see Paul get choked up and had to pull himself together made it even more emotional. After the song he said he had to take a moment and then said, "Let's pick it up a bit, no?" where his band rejoined him on stage and broke into a fabulous version of 'Dance Tonight', and we all wanted to dance. After 'Dance Tonight' Paul sang 'Calico Skies' which might be one of my all time favorite love songs. It was interesting to see the so called fans leave their seats to get a beer or go to the bathroom. I wanted to say to them, "Seriously? Leaving on this song? You don't know what you're missing." After the song, my husband looked at me and said, "We should have had that as our wedding song." No joke, pure beauty.


A few songs later came quite possibly the best run of songs in concert history. My new favorite Paul song that I play on my iPod 82 times a day, 'Sing the Changes', then 'Band on the Run', and 'Back in the USSR'. Each one of these songs would have blown off the roof of the stadium if it had one! Watching Paul play the guitar and rock with his band can't but help make you grin ear to ear. He then dedicated the next song, 'Something' to the late George Harrison. Paul started the song with the ukelele, played the first verse with it and then cranked into the full version with the entire band. The song literally sent chills down my spine and was noted as my husband's favorite song of the night.


The real chills of the evening came when Paul sat back down at the piano and broke into 'Let it Be'. There may not be a better song in the history of music, especially live. This song was sang at my mother's funeral and carries so much emotion for me, so needless to say, I broke into tears. Being at Citifield, watching an ex-Beatle, Paul McCartney, a man who my parents grew up listening to, is a once in a lifetime event. The amazing thing though, is immediately after he gets done with 'Let it Be', he goes into 'Live and Let Die' where the pyrotechnics were in full force. Explosions happened on stage while fireworks shot off from the top of the stadium. The place erupted! And then if you thought it couldn't get any better, he breaks into 'Hey Jude' where at the end of the song Paul lets the fans sing "nananananananananana, Hey Jude". He asked the people in the top, the people down in front, the people on the left, the people on the right, the men, and the women to all do their "solos" while the band quietly kept the beat and Paul stood in front directing us. He darts back to his piano runs his hands over and over each other down the piano saying, "I can't stop this thing! I can't stop this thing!" while the crowd continued with their Nanananas. It was a perfect ending to the concert.

But an ending it wasn't. Sir Paul McCartney did 2 encores where he asked us if we were ready to rock? Everyone agreed we were indeed ready to rock and he finished the concert with 'Helter Skelter', 'Get Back' and 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band/The End'. Confetti exploded into the air and trickled down onto the crowd where people were falling over each other and their seats just to grab a piece of it, some kind of token to take with them from the concert. I slowly and sadly walked past the confetti on the ground. I didn't need an actual physical item to take with me, I knew that I would have the memories from this concert with me forever.

It took me quite some time to finish this blog. It's hard to put down in words the emotions and feelings from the concert, from the entire night. I didn't feel as if my description could possibly do the concert justice. However, I wanted to finish it so I could give the people who weren't able to be at the concert a glimpse of what I was able to experience one magical July NYC night. Thank you, Sir Paul McCartney, for gracing me and all of NYC with your presence. You truly are a genius....

Revolutionary Road

"Hey LA. May I ask you a question?" asks a friend who called me yesterday afternoon. "Shoot" I say. He says, "Remember that feeling you had years ago when you were in the midwest, the one like you just had to get out of there or you were going to go crazy? And then you moved out east and made a new life for yourself where you seem to be fairly successful in life and love. Does that original feeling, the one that made you move, ever go away?" I immediately answered, "No. Sure when you first move the excitement and the unknown and meeting new people and starting a new job makes that feeling disappear slightly, but it never really goes away. In fact, for me, it's back."

Now, I'm not saying that the feeling of needing to leave the midwest is the same one I have now, but it's similar. I recently watched the movie, 'Revolutionary Road' where the 2 main characters are at a type of crossroads in life. The wife comes up with a plan for them to take their family to Paris to "get away from it all" and start over again. It's ironic as I have been dreaming of Paris so much lately, thinking that if I were to move, Paris or London would be my first 2 choices. There really aren't too many other cities in the US that can compare to NYC, so I guess I'll have to try out Europe......

My husband and I got into an argument last night. I am less than 2 weeks away from being 30 years old and have recently been evaluating my life, sort of taking inventory on family, friends, career, etc. I laugh thinking of how growing up in a small town, you were only "cool" if you were popular, and popular meant having a ton of friends. I tried my best to be the most popular girl in my class if not the school, and sadly, I succeeded. But as I have grown older, I can honestly say I have absolutely no connection to my "friends" that I had 10-15 years ago. Sure I have the ever present Facebook that allows me to see when a girl I went to highschool with just wiped her baby's ass or when another girl I went to school with potty trained her kid, but seriously, I don't care. My best friend growing up in elementary school, high school, and my roommate in college for 4 years just turned 30 a week ago and is pregnant with her 3rd kid. Yes, I said 3rd kid. I called her to wish her a happy birthday and the conversation was filled with simple pleasantries. I asked about her kids, I asked about her pregnancy, I asked about our hometown, friends of ours who are still living there, but it all really meant nothing to me. I hung up the phone feeling very sad for us, me and my friend. We were best friends for 22 years and could talk about anything, but now 8 years of being 1,000 miles apart and the difference of a small town versus NYC has come between us.

So I move on. Out here I have made new friends and really great friends, but I have realized new friendships, that didn't start from the age of 1, have some type of superficiality to them. My husband says being superficial with friends is normal, but I disagree (hence the argument). When I ask someone how their day was and I really truly care about their day, am I crazy to think they should ask the same question in return? I get it, we are all busy, everyone has their own situations and their own issues to deal with, but why is it that I'm the only one who seems to really care about what's going on in other people's lives, but never get the same respect in return? My husband says it's my personality. He says it's easy for people to open up to me and tell me their problems or if they don't have problems they tell me how great they are doing. This is all wonderful, I like knowing people can talk to me, but I'm sick of always listening and never being able to speak.

If you asked friends of mine, "How's LA doing?" I am fairly sure everyone would answer "fine" or "great". Where in reality, I'm distraught. I don't sleep well at night worrying about my brother who is on his own quest to find happiness, worrying about my father who has been sober for 2 years and is now going through a nasty divorce and I am concerned for his sobriety. I worry about money and the economy. I worry about my own sanity and health. For the past 2 weeks I haven't been able to keep food in my system, but instead of pressuring the doctor for an answer or going back to the doctor, I actually don't mind it. I see my pants getting bigger, last year's clothes that were too tight, now fit. And even worse, I have become so obsessed with losing weight again that when I actually do digest something, I feel fat and stand in the bathroom contemplating putting my finger down my throat, twice I have done it. I'm guessing no one would know that bit of information.

I was once told in college by an acquaintance that I was the most approachable person she had ever met. I took it as a compliment at the time and sort of prided myself on it back then, but now, I'm sick of being so approachable. If someone wants to talk to me about their problems, that's great, but won't truly get my ear until I know I'm getting theirs in return.

Until then, I think I'll just pack a bag and head off to Paris, if not for real, then in my mind.....