I met Davy.
I've been waiting for this day since I was 9. I fantasized that the Monkeemobile would break down in my neighborhood, and the boys from Malibu would knock on my door for help. I would be able to make them grilled cheese sandwiches while they waited for a mechanic. Back then, I couldn't listen to More of the Monkees with anyone else in the room. It was an intensely personal moment when Davy whispered the girls' names in Look Out (Here Comes Tomorrow). I was pretty sure he was singing to me. Their car never broke down on Mackland Avenue, but when I won three tickets to see Davy last weekend, I figured fate was finally on my side.
During the concert, he did a couple songs that surprised me, including Papa Gene's Blues (a Mike song) and No Time (SUCH a Micky song), and they were both wonderful. Oh, and he started the show with about 20 minutes of only moderately funny, Don Rickles-y offensive humor. I don't want to be too critical when we had free seats, but he really could've started with a song. One of my concert buddies moaned, "Boooo-ring" during his awful spiel. She's 10 years old, so she gets a pass. Honestly, the girl made a glittered sign, and deserved to hear Valleri! Her mom dutifully covered her eyes when Davy unbuttoned his shirt and did a spicy hip-bump to "The Stripper." This little trouper, out way past her bedtime, was the sole reason we got backstage to see Mr. Jones.
As Davy strutted out to an instrumental Daddy's Song, I deferred to Michele, who is a world-class concert veteran, and autograph-getter. My mouth said, "I'm following you." My 9-year-old heart was saying, "Oh please oh please help me figure out how to meet Davy, oh master of fandom!" We waited. And waited. And just when it seemed like they weren't going to let us backstage, the owner of the club noticed our 10-year old partner in crime. It was like a scene out of Paper Moon. She was just about to fall asleep, holding her little sign reading, "We WE Love LOVE Davy DAVY." Suddenly energized, we trotted downstairs and entered his room.
The thing that struck me was that his eyes looked a lot lighter in person. And I was too scared to talk to him or shake his hand. So I let my friends do that for me. I manned the camera while they said cheese. He was obviously tired after his show, which had no air conditioning. He stayed extra long for all his diehards to come through his dressing room, so I didn't want to start blubbering and freak him out.
As Davy strutted out to an instrumental Daddy's Song, I deferred to Michele, who is a world-class concert veteran, and autograph-getter. My mouth said, "I'm following you." My 9-year-old heart was saying, "Oh please oh please help me figure out how to meet Davy, oh master of fandom!" We waited. And waited. And just when it seemed like they weren't going to let us backstage, the owner of the club noticed our 10-year old partner in crime. It was like a scene out of Paper Moon. She was just about to fall asleep, holding her little sign reading, "We WE Love LOVE Davy DAVY." Suddenly energized, we trotted downstairs and entered his room.
The thing that struck me was that his eyes looked a lot lighter in person. And I was too scared to talk to him or shake his hand. So I let my friends do that for me. I manned the camera while they said cheese. He was obviously tired after his show, which had no air conditioning. He stayed extra long for all his diehards to come through his dressing room, so I didn't want to start blubbering and freak him out.
If this inspires you to spin some Monkees discs, here are a couple of my favorite dark horses: Someday Man from Instant Replay, and Long Way Home from Pool It!. So, that's one checkmark off the bucket list. My next target is Micky, for sure. Hopefully I'm not as sweaty when I meet him.
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