This Monday, I woke up at six a.m. for the first time since arriving at Dartmouth. I did so because my friend, a certain '03 class president who will remain nameless, wanted front-row tickets to Tuesday's Sheryl Crow concert. He conned me into meeting him outside the doors of the Hop at 6:30 -- we had camouflage/undercover break-in plans, but they proved unnecessary. In my customary, always-thinking fashion, I got a ride to The Hop from S&S. (Okay, so they thought they were taking me to Topliff) I arrived at the doors only to discover that the seventeen people standing outside were not mad, crazed fans, but groggy-eyed students like me, and that my friend, Mr. Dan "Psycho-Class-President-Let's-Get-Up-At-the-Butt-Crack-of-Dawn" Chang (there goes that element of anonymity) was not there. The Hop workers had pity on us and opened the doors early. We walked down to the box office in order: there were very threatening S&S officers controlling the hostile crowd. My "friend" Dan finally showed up, and we got our front-row tickets. His excitement was short-lived, however, when he discovered that our seats weren't in the center but off to the right of the stage. After scrubbing the stamp off of his hand and attempting to get a "better" seat, he decided that ours were pretty good and went home happy. I forgot about the concert until Tuesday afternoon.
So I was expecting Mr. Class President to be at the Hop nice and early before the concert. Imagine my surprise when he didn't arrive until ten minutes before the show started. I ran into one of his roommates before Dan came -- the roommie assured me that Mr. Class President was coming, he was just taking a shower first. How sweet, I thought. He's showering for Sheryl. So ten minutes before the show commenced, Mr. President comes bounding down the aisle in freshly starched chinos and a button-down shirt, hair freshly spiked and cologne strategically applied. He had a grin on his face that I must say I've only before seen on my best friend's fourteen year old sister's face when we took her to a Backstreet Boys concert. He kept saying things like "I snuck in a camera. Do you think they'll notice?" and "Do you think we can sit on the floor in front of the stage? Let's go!" After establishing that Dan purchased a shirt for the occasion as well as bringing all of Sheryl Crow's CDs to be autographed, I felt grossly unprepared for the concert.
President Wright announced her and out she came. This was not Sheryl Crow. This was not long streaming hair, glamorous rock, six-inch boots and smoky eyes. This was a woman with what can only be described as scruffy hair, a black turtleneck, and white pants that on closer inspection yes, were leather, but gave off Banana Republic chinos vibes. She looked like my babysittee's mom. My impression before the concert was Sheryl Crow as talented singer and yes, songwriter, but not much else. After seeing her and listening to her speak, I now realize that she is an active participant in life outside of Hollywood. Contrary to President Wright's introduction, she is "an ordinary woman," too. She told us that "My Favorite Mistake" was about "being dumped." She just out and out said it. She dedicated "Strong Enough" to President Wright. Is he man enough to be her man? I know that Dan certainly thought he was.
Initially, I wasn't too excited about going to the concert -- I'm not a big fan -- but after being surrounded by Dan "The Man with the Plan" Chang's enthusiasm and boundless optimism and grins, I got excited, too. After the concert, I even asked the stage man for a pick. Which Dan promptly ripped from my hands. But that's okay -- Vegas threw us another one.
