Heidi Dutton ([email protected])
Sun, 26 Jul 1998 11:54:07 -0400
Ha!! How about my worst POPmart 24 hrs?? Philly POPmart - aka "POPMART
from Hell"... this is long, it was just that kind of day - I apologize in
1. Always plan well. I did not. I was still not going to Philly as of 10PM
the night before. Then I got the call from Nancy Gilles. She wanted to see
if I was going, because she wanted to ride with me coming back (she lives
on the way back to my house). I took this as a "sign" that I should go...I
asked for a place to stay for the night on WIRE - I got an answer from
Sybil, a kind-hearted person who had only been on WIRE for a week: Nancy
and I can stay in her hotel room with her and her friend.
2. I hook up with Scott, a wireling who also lives in CT - he's going and
we decide that since he has to see his brother in Philly the day after the
show, and he's staying later than me (I had to appear at work at some point
the next day), that I should follow him and his friend down in my own car.
He arrives at the gas station where we plan to meet, and is basically
piecing his rubber-band powered car back together. I ask him if his car
will even make it to Philly, and is he sure he wouldn't rather ride in my
'96 NEON? He says he just overhauled the car himself, it runs great....
3. We get on I95 in CT - a very harrowing stretch of US highway where even
the 18-wheelers go 90 MPH during the day (which is also why *every* morning
traffic report on CT radio includes an "overturned tractor-trailer on
95...")...people die on this stretch of highway on almost a daily basis.
I'm following Scott and we get to the Norwalk exit, when I see something
plastic under Scott's car blow into pieces and fly off... great- the rubber
band snapped! We are going too fast for me too pull off behind him when he
pulls the car onto a median...yes, that's right, he's now parked in the
MIDDLE of I95. I get to the next exit and go back the opposite way, so
that I can meet up with him. I wave to him, signalling to him that I'm
coming back, as I pass him going the opposite way. I was going to just get
his friend and him and abandon the car- we had a show to get to! Well,
that wouldn't be the case- by the time I got to him, there was a CT state
trooper parked with him, and the cop wasn't going to let me park my car on
the median with Scott. I told the cop that I was WITH Scott, and that we
had someplace to go. He said that I would get myself killed if I tried to
park there, and that I would have to move along...
4. I decide to drive on and turn back in a short while when I see the cop
pass me. I turn around to see if I can get Scott and his friend. I drive
and drive, past where I knew he could be, but he wasn't there. Must be the
world's fastest tow truck, I figured! They were nowhere to be found.
NOW - anyone with a brain in her head would/should have turned back and
called it a day. BUT NO. I had secured a 12th row seat at the Philly
show, from someone selling tickets on WIRE. I had 12th row - I was not
turning around and going back home. I could have that 12th row ticket if I
got to the tennis courts outside the stadium by 7PM to meet the guy. Piece
5. Continued on I95, remembering that it was Scott who knew how to get to
Philly. I had some YAHOO directions, maybe you know of those - they tend to
leave out some details...like major highways! Alrighty then... how hard can
it be to get there, I figure. I keep thinking I should drop the car at any
number of the many Amtrak stations in CT, and get a train to Philly. This
would have been a very good idea. BUT NO. I'm a woman of the '90s, I can
handle this! The YAHOO directions started on I84, I was on I95. Details,
6. I "wing it" to Philly. This is a drive that normally takes 4 hours from
CT. It took me 8 hours. I called Nancy Gilles from New Jersey, at
Callahan's - this was where the WIRE party was. I told her I was on my way.
I use "12th row" like a mantra the whole way.
7. I finally get to Philadelphia. I park my baby, the iris-colored '96
NEON with the LOVEU2 license plates, at the 30th St. train station. I
decide that I can get to Callahan's faster if I get a cab. I have to get
to Callahan's to meet up with Sybil and Nancy - I had never met either of
them and didn't know what they looked like. I easily hail a cab.
8. I get in the cab, tell the guy where I am going. Traffic is gridlock,
nobody is moving. The cab driver keeps turning off the engine as we sit
going nowhere - he says the engine could overheat. He decides that we might
be able to get to Callahans if we go around the traffic mess, into the more
questionable parts of Philly. We are in those questionable parts when the
cab engine starts POURING out smoke. It overheated.
Driver - "Get out of the car."
Me - "What the fuck do you mean, get out of the car??!! I don't know where
I am, I'm not from around here!!"
Driver "GET OUT OF THE CAR!!!!"
Me - "How will I get to Callahan's? How will I get to the stadium??"
Driver - "Follow those people!" pointing to the hordes of people walking.
You know that feeling you get, when the hairs on the back of your neck
stand up? I really got the unquestionable feeling that this guy had a gun,
and that this conversation was over. He did not offer to call me another
cab. But he did not charge me the accrued fare, after I protested. What a
Here I am, me with my so carefully-cultivated CT WASP look, walking.
9. I didn't get to 30th St. station until about 8:15PM. It's now about
8:45PM. Of course, Callahan's is out now. I get to the stadium. I look for
the guy next to the tennis courts. There are now hundreds of people near
those tennis courts. I look and look. I go to the ticket window to see if
there are any tickets left, since after all of this, I still don't have
one. Walking away from the window are 3 girls. They ask me if I'm okay -
obviously I look like I'm definitely not okay, by now. I explain my
situation, that I was meeting a guy and 12th row, and... well, they tell me
that they have an extra ticket, since their 4th person backed out last
minute and they had just gone to the window and picked up their tickets. At
least, they tell me, I could get in to the stadium, and find the guy in
there, and I could have this ticket for $25. Where is the seat, I inquire?
Sec. B... not exactly what I went thru the last 10 hours for. I say that I
had heard of a lot of counterfeit tickets for the shows, and that with the
way my day was going... they tell me that I could enter the stadim with
them, and I would see that the tickets were legit, if it made me feel
better- they just wanted to recoup a bit of the loss from the 4th friend.
10. The girls talk to me, making small talk, still not sure that I am okay
now. I'm not!! I make it my mission to get from the B section to the 12th
row to find this guy and get my rightful ticket. I talk my way past 5
yellow-jackets, with a wild and urgent story about how I have to find
someone in A1, since they have our hotel info, and I forgot, and I won't be
able...yadda-yadda...and with each guard, they were more difficult to
bullshit, and I got thru, and the LAST guard was very short- when she was
checking a ticket for a very tall person, I ducked through, stormed to the
12th row, found someone in the seat that I was to occupy, and asked that
person where I could find the guy. He was down the row a bit and saw me
and wanted to run. He said he sold it when I didn't get there on time. I
reminded him that I told him I was coming from CT and that I was definitely
coming. Too bad, he said.
I was turning away to go to my seat, when it dawned on me...I was now
within 15 rows of the stage, and I wasn't... fucking...
I spent the evening ducking yellow-jackets, who were nazi-like that night,
pulling people from rows just to take a flashlight to their ticket stubs.
I was not caught - I just kept moving.
11. After the show, when people were leaving, I remembered that I still had
to find 2 people who I had never met and who had never met me. I waited
and watched, even inquired about having them paged, waited, waited some
more, when they came up to me - I hadn't remembered to put on my WIRE tag,
I wonder why, and Nancy immediately reprimanded me for that. We headed out
to Sybil's car, where she had some of the best beer I have ever tasted, and
I thanked her profusely for allowing us to stay in her room. We saw Jerry
Mele on the way out, and I got his autograph on a ticket stub for a seat I
never occupied. :)
Sybil is still a good friend of mine!
The next day I drove us home and went to work, going into hysterics
laughing every time I told part of this story.
Okay - sorry it's so long - but you asked!! :)
Heidi <-------- never did tell her mom this story...
This archive was generated by hypermail 2.0b2 on Sun Jul 26 1998 - 09:00:38 PDT