JO'S ACCOUNT OF GOING TO THE CONCERTS AT THE LA HOUSE

OF BLUES IN MARCH 2006

What lay between Amanda, Sally M., and me as we headed north on Thursday night from San 

Clemente toward Hollywood had to be absolute classic LA freeway at its worst. Amanda's 

reservations were for 6:30 and we got there at 10 after 7, having left her home some 3 hours 

earlier.  From the outside, the HOB is quaint in that bayou sorta way wherein it looks like it 

was only brushed by Katrina and not fully demolished...though having come rather close. And 

the bit of blooming wisteria hanging down its faded, scarred corrugated tin in places was 

actually quite...fetching.  We walked in, expecting Amanda's table for 25 to be a table for 25, 

but it wasn't...and folks were scattered hither and yon, making them much harder to locate to 

meet.  

Jax was nicely tucked in a corner by the windows and so was about the first one we encountered. 

Gena and her brave and stalwart husband, Ralph, were waiting at a table for 4 next to Jax and 

hadn't ordered yet, so I joined them while Amanda went  with Sally to the Foundation Room as 

Sally had passes for 2 to get in.  It was very frustrating being around so many women that if only 

they had had on large name tags I woulda known who the heck they WERE!!!  I feel like I missed 

out on so many folks that I wanted to meet.  But Luella came up and Susie, who gave me the 

lovely large copies of some of my pictures she'd printed out for me on good photographic paper...

some for Russ, some for me.  I added them to a folder I'd made of some of my stuff in case I might 

have a chance to get it to Himself.  

 
Ando was in a booth with Diz and M and Bridgid...so that was 4 in one fell swoop.  I met Joanne, 
with whom Bert was to stay the following day.  It was so late and we needed to get in the line of 
folks who'd had dinner, which was separate from the line of the folks who hadn't had dinner and 

were outside the fence lined up the steep sidewalk.  Our own line was already about 7 million 3 
hundred thousand 492 people long and Ralph, good Ralph, kept our places while I ran my 

camera down, down, down to the valet hut and paid them 5 bucks to keep it since we were going

to be strip searched...well, close...they used wands to check for weapons and looked in our

purses...and Gena put her jacket in the car.  

I was determined to meet folks and so decided to ask the group of women in front of me in line 

who they might be...but out of all the folks gathered at the HOB, they had NO contact whatsover 

with any computer groups and looked at me like I was a bit...strange. Despite being so far back 

in the line, when we got into the actual room it was easy to get places only about 12 feet back 

from the stage.  I found Audrey the 'Liberrian' to my left (she was my very first Crowefan I ever

met when she and her husband stopped by my house in late 2001 and took me to lunch), which 

was nice, as we leaned on each other from time to time and exchanged witticisms like my asking, 

"Is this Purgatory?" and her replying, "No, this is hell."  Not in any way meaning the concert 

itself, you understand, but only the act of, um, enduring what it takes to be AT the concert.  

Carmelita was there right behind me with her daughter.  Gena and her husband, who went to 

the store several times for folks, making their purchases for them (he got my CD's) were to my 

right, with Joanne coming and going from time to time. Susie was nearby, and if I turned my 

head and looked way up to my right, I could see Ando and her cohorts in the balcony leaning 

on the railing and looking down upon the squirming masses with a slight air of superiority and 

satisfaction in response to which I very maturely stuck out my tongue, which only made the evil 

former Welshwoman gloat all the more.  

But I rather liked my location as I wanted to study Himself a bit more up close and personal 

while he performed. And perform he did!  He puts on an amazing show and deserves ever so 

much more credit than he gets for his musical side.  He was, well, damn GOOD!  And there is 

that first moment when you have never seen him before and the curtain rises and there he is 12 

feet in front of you in all his pin-striped glory...and there can only be one of those moments.  I 

turned briefly and grinned at Audrey at my left elbow as we had just been talking about it.

I, perhaps, bring something a bit different to the study of the man as I know him so, well, 

intimately pixel by pixel and have spent an inordinate amount of time shaving the edges off the 

planes of his face in order to move them to another picture that I found myself staring at his face 

and mentally curving my cursor down his cheek or around his nose when he was in profile.  I 
quite, in truth, enjoyed it!!  I also enjoyed HIS enjoyment of musically performing.  It was just 

so evident how much he loves doing this.

I like his look right now and was glad that it was thus that I first saw him.  My feet were 

beginning to go rather badly...well, ok, they'd gone well before he even came out. As some of 

you know, I've had trouble with the buggers my whole life since a few of the bones don't connect 

at the right angles and standing in one place on a plank floor for 5 hours does not encourage 
happy feet.  I kept thinking that tomorrow I would find myself some little projection of some 

sort somewhere in some far recess of the room and ploink myself on it for the evening even if I 

couldn't see a  thing. (HA!) 

It was so nice seeing him singing the songs I've gotten very familiar with, watching his 
expression as he sang them, his, well, his bodily movements.  Yeah, I admit it.  I watch those, 

too!  There was one point when he had his guitar and was going great guns with it in such a 

way that I had a flashback to Back to the Future and Michael J. Fox and his electric guitar at 

the dance.  

For the Friday concert, wouldn't you just know it that Amanda and I (I had flown out from

Pittsburgh by myself and was staying at Amanda's house in San Clemente) arrived early and, 

lo and behold, there WAS a table set up for 25 but nobody was sitting at it since they presumed 

from the previous night that such a thing would not exist and so were already scattered about 

even more widely than Thursday. We met Eva from Florida and her husband and Audrey came 

up whereupon Amanda presented her with her tassels, bringing the liberrian's total to 4 despite 

only possessing 2 locations upon which to don them. We talked with Jax again and there were 

Ando, Diz, M, and Bridgid in a booth again. 

We had them break up the table as no one was going to be sitting there and Amanda and I sat 

down at one for 4. Bert showed up shortly thereafter and the 3 of us ate together.  I had given 

Ando her small container of Jiff peanut butter the night before and gave BertiLuv hers Friday. 
That comes from the earliest days even before the epis became epis onlist when I was the 

PeanutButter Queen and I'm still called the PBQ in some quarters (when I'm not being called 

the EEQ...Evil Epi Queen).  

After dinner, the 3 of us were in line for the 2 compartments in the small women's room when

sudden familiar strains floated to our pink, shell-like ears and so we got OUT of line and went 

to the window row overlooking the stage and Bert got her first view of the man as he rehearsed.  

The 3 of us ended up even closer to the stage, front and center, than I'd been the night before.  

Jo G. was leaning on the edge of the stage practically in front of his mike and there was someone 

behind  Jo (whom I've since gotten to know as another Susie) and I was behind that someone, 

with Amanda to my left and Bert right behind me.  I could see Jax leaning on the stage a bit 

more to my left.  Carmelita and her daughter were to the right and closer, too, as were Luella 

and Susie.  Audrey was further over to my right, with Gena about halfway in between.  Estella 

(wonderwoman) came in later and was 2 people behind me.  

We were packed even more like upright sardines than the night before and it was....hotter inside

...even tho it was cold and rainy outside.  Bert had brought two fans along, sent by Joanne. I 

picked the one with red poppies on it in honor of Maximus. Turned out it used to belong to 

Truman Capote. I'm not sure we woulda made it if not for them.  I fanned Amanda and those 

nearest me, too, as it was just really bloomin' HOT...though nothing compared to what I've 

heard of Stubbs in Austin, of course.  I don't think I've ever been packed in such a dense crowd 

of folks like that before...and then standing for another 5 hours.  

In the two pictures below, if you can find the little red word "ME" near the middle of the left-

hand picture edges...that's me with the light hair and pinkish shirt right below the word. If some

others of you see yourselves, please e-mail me at jo.anzalone@verizon.net and tell me where you

are. 

Ando and cohorts were in their same balconied places as the night before and I could see 

Himself come by and lean on the rail in Ando's place whilst she was off in the loo.  Sometimes 

there IS justice in the universe!! Chortle!  I waved at Darrin who was up in that same area. Dani 

was attending tonight (she hadn't the night before) and was in the darkened balcony behind us
where there were actual things called, gasp, chairs...and Gena said Ron Howard was there, too,
though I never caught sight of him.  Himself was on his best behavior Friday and didn't f___ 

around like he had on Thursday.  He was even sorta "sparklier" somehow and I found myself 

enjoying Friday's concert more than Thursday's, which was actually strange as I was in possibly 

the worst, most agonizing pain of my life the entire time.  Sigh.  After less than a half hour of 

standing, my feet were at the place where they'd left off late on Thursday night.  I'd been up 

26 1/2 straight hours Thursday, too, and on 2 1/2 hours sleep Wed. night, but had gotten maybe 
close to 6 hours sleep Thursday night.  After that first half hour of standing I really began 
to think I would never, ever, ever be able to stand for 5 more hours...and yet I did.  I stood 

through the 2-part opening act, then this hideously long thingamabob they showed on a 

dropped-down screen and I kept thinking how I was, gads, using UP all this standing time and 

Himself wasn't even OUT  yet!!!!  

Then he came out and I turned and grinned really big and watched Bert's face as she watched 

him up close for the first time. I actually did that a lot...watched other people watching him.  

It was truly fascinating.  And there he was, of course, with all his nice Aussie pixels even 

CLOSER than the night before...and after he started singing I knew, alas, feet be damned, I 

didn't want to be further away than I was because it was just so neat being so durn close and 

all.  He had on the exact same outfit and I wondered if he has a whole closet full of pin-striped 

suits or does he send it out to the cleaners really fast or what??  'Cause he'd really sweated in 

it Thursday night...and on Friday, with it being hotter inside, he sweated a whole lot more.  

He's so very, well....active....on the stage...and even when he has his back turned and is 

swigging his red wine and puffing his ciggies,  he's wigglin' his butt and his legs and such.  I 

looked back at Berti during one such on-going butt-wiggle and she had the neatest expression 

of, um, appreciation on her face.  The man knows his crowd!  And we were close enough to 

breathe his second-hand smoke.  I really began to feel rather divided, tho.  From the waist up 

I was having a blast and was quite happy, but from the waist down large, fang-toothed she-devil
slug aliens were eating me alive.  It was very, very....strange...it was.  I wondered from time to 

time who would win the day, the happy upper part or the she-devil slug aliens.  The slug aliens 

were amusing their black souls by driving radioactive, rusty, serrated railroad spikes into my 

feet from all directions, top, sides, bottoms.  That is literally what it felt like.  It was nothing 

like, "My feet hurt,"...it was like Darth lying on the bank while the molten lava burnt 
his feet off...only worse. My brain thought things like, "Wow! Isn't it interesting how 

unbearable pain can actually be...borne!"  And so the top half of me bobbed my head to his 

music and smiled and fanned.  And good Jo G. got my folder up on stage at the end and when 

Amanda in a bit saw a security guy pick it up, she ran back and asked him to make sure 

Himself got it, and, bless him, he did put it with Russ' personal things. 

I had tied the arms of my black jacket through the strap of my fanny pack (I'd been advised to 

bring that by experienced concert-goers who'd said a purse becomes lead during the concert) 

and afterwards was trying to untie the blasted thing, but couldn't.  When the curtains had 

closed, the happy top part lost out entirely to the alien slugs and Audrey actually came to my 

rescue and untied it for me. Now, drat it, how can I ever torment the liberrian AGAIN???   

I found a tiny ledge and sat down, which was a mistake, as then I had to get up but seemed to 

have misplaced my oil can and had joined the tin woodsman in a body freeze.  And then we 

went out the back door and had to go UP the steeeep sidewalk alongside the HOB as we were 

parked behind the Hyatt and I hadda actually put one foot in front of the other in the misty, 

cold rain and move myself even though with each step my bones infolded and made little boney 

origami thingies somewhere deep inside what used to pass as my feet.  Sooooo...no wonder folks 

were beginning to wonder if I made it all the way back to Pennsylvania.  

They were also wondering this because my flight home took two days. It was just completely

unable to get past Chicago. There was this humongous thunderstorm covering the upper

half of the entire Midwest and so many planes were circling Chicago that they sent OUR

plane up to circle Minneapolis. When we were finally allowed to head back to Chicago

(where I was supposed to change planes) the pilot announced that in a few moments we

would be descending into the storm and should prepare our wills and notify our next of

kin. Well, not exactly, but his words were extremely serious and people all around me

who are more technologically advanced were on their cell phones calling loved ones. I

looked around the cabin and thought, good gracious, it looks like a scene from Flight 93,

which was not at ALL encouraging as, being from Pittsburgh, I am very aware of how

that flew over the city not long before it crashed. There was a phone in the back of the

seat in front of me and I thought, gee, maybe I'd like to hear Carl's voice one last time

so I called him, telling him we were about to descend into what was one heckuva huge

and vicious storm and he, being he, says, "Are you at peace?", which is just so very,

very utterly a Carl thing to say at such a time (he's an ordained minister) and, rather

surprisingly when I checked, I found I was. So then it was time for everybody to hang

up and down into the storm we went. After just a couple of minutes of that, lightning

began to crackle and flash all around the airplane and suddenly huge balls of light

started inside at the front of the cabin and roared down its full length from floor to 

ceiling...several times...which was, of course, most encouraging to all the passengers.

But, finally, we landed and found no sane pilot was taking OFF in this storm, though

plenty of insane ones seemed perfectly willing to LAND. Then we were kept in long

lines, it being Chicago after all, and famous for its lines of cattle herded into abattoirs,

and finally told that if we somehow managed to locate our baggage we were then

completely on our own and totally unreimbursed expected to find our own hotels and

the means to get to them. This is O'Hare, mind you, one of the busiest airports in the

entire known world and much of the unknown, and it is now FULL of landed but

untakenoff passengers all trying to do the same thing. And it is night. And it is pouring

rain. Such are the perils of Crowefans attempting to reach home again!! 

Being a friendly sort, I'd been talking with a salesman who was in line in front of me

and who had even let me use his cell phone to tell Carl I am trapped in Chicago (all

the pay phones were either not working or had huge lines). We decided to pool our

resources...which meant he would use his cell to call hotels and I would try to get a

room at the same one as I had no means of calling. It took well over an hour to find

one not in Georgia or Oregon, and we finally arranged for a shuttle to come and get

us and several other drooping passengers. 

It turned out to be a cheap hotel in heavenknowswhere Chicago and was owned and operated 
entirely by foreign nationals of dubious origin who did not clean the, um, premises all that 

well and one, um, guest was angry about the condoms he found in his room and he and the  

lady(?) at the desk were in a loud argument about it and he, well, he hit her and she called the 

cops.  I was sitting in what one might laughably call the lobby at the time, waiting for my shuttle 

back to O'Hare while talking with a distraught woman who had just discovered her car keys 

were in Orlando and the wind was wailing outside like on the Yorkshire moors when Heathcliff 

was out and about being all upsetlikeandall and one was wondering if one's plane, were it to 

actually take off, might take off sideways.  But I had Truman Capote's fan in my bag and it had 

red POPPIES all over it... so what difference could all that make, I ask you.  And the plane, 

which DID take off and only an hour and 10 minutes late this go-round....went frontwards, 

which made me happy. Unlike the landing of the previous night in which for the first time we 

all clapped as the wheels touched down, so glad were we as a group not to be ending in some 

mass grave in Illinois. 

ON TO NEW YORK CITY CONCERT (IF YOU CAN STAND THE STRESS!)

BACK TO LIBRISCROWE