Diary of a Girl-Next-Door Heavy Metal Novelist

August 2, 2003 - Only 2 more days left that I can claim I've never met KISS
Interesting drive to NY today. In my world of signs, every song on the radio took on a special meaning, but not what I expected. I thought I'd hear a lot of anthems that would make me drive with my right hand alternating between shifting and pumping in the air. Instead, DJs played a lot of "put the past behind you" tunes, and also songs that reminded me of my mom. She would have loved this adventure. In my mind, she still does, and she has the added bonus of not having to vacuum up dog hair after sending me "You Go Girl!" email messages. I could almost see a big chubby smile beaming at me and hear her calling me "Kiddo". God, I wish I could call her right now and tell her all my schemes.

I'm settled in my hotel and I have a pedicure appointment set for Monday morning. I have a little work to do tomorrow to finish the Gene portfolio, but mainly, I plan to relax and appreciate the vibe.

August 3, 2003 - The Penultimate
Low key day in NY. I finished the portfolio and took pictures of it for the KISSfiction vault. I think my only meaningful human contact came in the form of a text message on my cool James Bond phone from Heidiva. "one more day! I CAN HARDLY STAND IT!" Me? I feel like tomorrow is the first day of school, and I have all my new outfits picked out to impress my friends. I've always had mixed feelings about huge events. Of course the concert will be an adrenaline rush like nothing I've ever felt. Nothing inspires me the same way KISS played live does. Usually, I pump a CD to get myself psyched for something difficult or special. Imagine how lucky I am to have the rush of the volume, explosions and heat of REAL LIVE KISS to get me ready! I'm also someone who thrives on possibilities over realities, so I'm already contemplating plans for all the possible outcomes I can imagine. It's for that reason experiences like concerts are so healthy for me - they force me to immerse myself in the moment. That moment is joy.

August 4, 2003 - K Day
They say the most pleasant thing you can hear is the sound of your own name. Tonight, I would qualify that statement by saying the most joyful noise to a girl-next-door/rock 'n' roll aficionada is the sound of Gene Simmons saying her name.

I met KISS.

August 5, 2003 - The Blissful KISSful Post-Concert Hangover
Forgive me, but I thought that writing a play-by-play of last night's experience would cheapen it, and the last thing I wanted to do was turn my awfully wonderful time into a series of "and then I... and then I..." drivel. I saved that diatribe for tonight - and I added picture links.

Morning - Pedicure. Even though I was going to wear closed-toe shoes to the concert, I knew I'd have a little extra kick in my step if I had fabulous feet. I narrowed my polish choices down to Bordeaux and Flame & Heat. I chose the first, assuming KISS would get me hot.

Afternoon - Packed my Harley Davidson suitcase/lunchbox, and decided if any guards asked about it, I'd call it "my pocketbook." It contained my map, ticket instructions, ID, cash, business cards, pashmina (only for severe weather, as pashminas are OUT), makeup, comfy shoes, camera, phone (with camera attachment), extra batteries, pen, plastic bag (in case it rained and I needed to protect the all-important portfolio) and Listerine strips. For future platinum ticket holders, I'd suggest bringing wet naps. You never know.

Late Afternoon - I slithered into my red dress, tucked Heidiva's good luck charm into my bra, groomed my eyebrows (uberimportant) and strutted out to the KISSmobile.

At the Venue - I made sure I was there early, so I had my choice of parking places. I chose Section L for luck, then I made my way to the security obstacle course.

Obstacle 1: Main Gate: The guards told me I was not allowed to take in A) my Harley Davidson "pocketbook", B) my portfolio, or C) my camera. They also told me I was at the wrong gate. Okay, seeya. I was not even thinking of a plan b. I had to get in with my stuff. HAD TO.

Obstacle 2: VIP Entrance: Friendly guard! Yea! He wasn't in charge of platinum tickets. Aw.

Obstacle 3: Back Entrance: The platinum passes weren't ready yet, so while we waited, I chatted. "They probably won't let you in with that," my neighbor in line said. I just shrugged my shoulders. Normally, he'd be right, I thought, but destiny has other ideas.

Obstacle 4: After I got my pass, I headed back to the VIP entrance. Since I was so dressed up, the guard remembered me. He liked me! He was glad to see me! He let me right through - to another set of guards who didn't seem to mind my portfolio or "pocketbook", but frowned upon my camera. "Take it back to your car," they instructed. "And by the way, you're supposed to enter in the back gate."

I scurried to the back gate again, where the guards were still handing out passes and directing people to the VIP entrance. "No," I said. "They're sending us back here." "Oh yeah," said the guard, as he opened the fence. "I skipped through as fast as I could, squealing ever so slightly, and I swear they started checking the bags of the people behind me. Success! I squeezed my portfolio. It had a date with Gene.

I met a nice woman in line, and as it turned out, we had seats right next to each other. I watched our stuff and she explored the arena to find out where we'd enter the hallowed backstage area. Sweet.

The title of my novel is Won't Get Fooled Again. It's a song by the Who that's played at every KISS concert when the giant KISS curtain is dropped. My emotions were in high gear when Roger Daltrey let loose last night. I called my sister/editor and dear friend, Melissa, neither of whom were home, but I held up my phone so they'd hear the song playing on their answering machines. Major goosebumps. The smell of the beach and the breeze in my hair only added to the sensual revelry.

The band soon descended from the rafters like gods from Olympus. They must have invoked the powers of someone in Rock 'n' Roll Heaven, 'cuz they looked younger than ever. Gene was in fine form, Paul had a kick-ass wig (or so I thought) to go with his tight bod, and Tommy looks like Superman.

Throughout all my preparation, everyone's been asking me if I'm nervous. No way. In fact, my last few entries have been as Zen as I usually get. Well, the nerves finally hit about half-way through "Rock 'n' Roll All Night." Oh my god. It's time. My stomach churned. A few minutes earlier, when the band exited the stage for the first time, I was so into my prep, I'd reached down to my "pocketbook" for a comb and I missed the rose Peter Criss threw right to my chair before he sang "Beth". I couldn't be happier for my platinum partner, though, when I saw she'd caught it. I had to focus on a bigger prize.

KISS left the stage, and my kindred spirit and I left our seats for our date with the band. No more nerves. I was ready. Was Gene? (to be continued)

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