All I gotta say is: WOW. Adjectives, exaltations, exhortations, interjections and run-of-the-mill adverbs all fail to do justice to the show we saw last night: Muse at US Airways Center in Phoenix.
Here’s what I knew about Muse going into the show:
1) We had free tickets in the skybox seats directly across from the stage… with a full bar and semi-private restrooms, plus nice comfy armchairs and a fully catered meal.
2) Um, I think some of their songs are used in those commercials… and didn’t they have that song in that Tom Cruise movie? And aren’t they the theme song for the NCAA basketball tournament. Something madness? I was only passingly familiar with them since I spend the majority of my radio time with NPR (and it’s a news / jazz channel)
3) Muse is one of my nephew’s favorite bands, and in our efforts to reach out to the young people and try new things, I figured I should be adventurous and broaden my horizons.
For those keeping score at home: Muse 4,827 – Horizons, shattered.
Best concert I’ve ever seen – but more than seen: Experienced. They had lasers, people. Lasers.
I photo-bombed a Supreme Court Justice – and not just any member of the black-robed superstars of jurisprudence: The very first woman to hold the position of Supreme Court Justice of the United States – the Honorable Sandra Day O’Connor.
StoryCorps, the national initiative that invites people from all walks of life to interview one another and share the stories of their lives, has parked its humble Airstream in Phoenix this spring. The NPR member-station I represent, KJZZ 91.5 FM is hosting the visit. We invited Justice O’Connor to record an interview for the kick-off celebration and media day.
And I stood there looking like a dork in the background of an official station photo opportunity. See for yourself.
She arrived in a dusty Dodge Ram pickup truck. Her son Scott drove her. They arrived promptly at 1:30. He called her Mom.
He called her Mom! Not your Honor. Not your Majesty. Not your Supremacy. Just Mom. “Well, Mom and I…” and “Mom does this ~” and “Mom does that ~” and “Mom blah-blah-blah ~”
Not like me who stood there slack-jawed and didn’t even managed to introduce myself, or throw myself at her feet, or offer up the grateful thanks of a nation for her service and fortitude. No, I pretty much committed the cardinal sin of radio: Dead air. Starstruck silence. Frozen awkwardness. Duuuuuhhhhhh.
Granted, I think my employers probably appreciated my lack of genuflection… until they posted the photos online and realized their salesperson was photo-bombing a Supreme Court Justice.
And now I have a large, black, antenna-festooned SUV parked indiscreetly on my cul de sac… and I may not have a job anymore.
Instead, I just have a painful photographic reminder of yet another brush with greatness.
Sometime during Hour 4 of our epic 7-hour, 32-minute, 15-second Soma Half-Ironman on Sunday, my Mom asked me: “What’s the hardest of the three events in this race?”
From the shady confines of the Team Athena Riding Clydesdales Party Pavilion™, I took a long draw on my cold beer and gazed out upon the shimmering brown waters of Tempe Town Lake. I pondered my sweet husband Patrick, aka Clydesdale #1, riding his bicycle over 56 wind-whipped miles. I considered the coming suffering of Clydesdale #2, Jason Robert, running his 13.1-mile half-marathon under a blazing noonday sun. I breathed a sweet sigh of relief.
“Not the swim. Definitely not the swim. I mean, maybe if I was in the Arctic Ocean, during a tsunami, with sharks to the left of me and sea lions to the right, only then could the swim possibly be the hardest event – but on a day like today?” I clicked to the tracking app on the iPad to follow Pat’s progress – the breeze that cooled us in the Party Pavilion simultaneously punished him on Rio Salado Parkway. “On a day like today, I’m glad to be the swimmer.”
Having cast aside the comfort and relative anonymity of triathlon relays months ago, I set my sights on my first real solo multi-sport adventure: Nathan’s Tempe Triathlon on Septmeber 23 at TempE.coli Town Lake. Yes, I’d competed in the Anthem Sprint Triathlon weeks before – earning a silver medal as the second-fastest of the fattest – but I didn’t feel right counting that event since I could have waded through the swim.
My taste of the silver medal, however tainted, had inspired new dedication to training – after all, I was mere seconds away from being the fastest of the fattest – how well could I do if I actually stuck to my training plan and larded my training table with something more than burritos and beer. Ergo, I redoubled my commitment to good nutrition. I was going to hydrate the shit out of myself… Or should I say piss?
Actually, not quite the fastest (and definitely not THE fattest) - I was only the silver medalist in the Athena Division for the Anthem Sprint Triathlon today, finishing the 5-kilometer run, 20-kilometer bike and 400-meter swim in 1 hour, 41 minutes, 25 seconds.
I was just 50 seconds off the gold medal, but given that this is the first medal I have ever won when other people (15 of them, actually) finished (or did not finish) behind me, I value this silver medal as much as I would a gold medal. Suffice it to say, on any other day, I’m proud to make the Top 10… because I usually finish 10th of 10.