November 12, 2004 - a
dark day among months of dark days for me – and for my daddy because he loves
me. Hard for him watching a grown kid
learning to walk – I’ve got two of my own growing, growing, growing – guess we’re
growing ‘til we’re not. I'm blessed to have my father here and safe hands to hold me steady.
He took me to see Bette
Midler in Oklahoma City. He said I
needed it.
I did.
I felt a reprieve had been granted once we got into the arena – dark, big, full of
strangers - and took our seats. I love
Bette Midler. love.her. – In any event, my easier breathing was short lived as
two drunken bitches behind us a) kept kicking my seat, b) sang at the tops of
their lungs (and not well) and c) sloshed their nasty 3.2 domestic arena beer
down my back.
If you’ve ever been in
a very bad way, you know the feeling of “wtf else?” – the feeling you exist
purely for the Devil’s sinister amusement, the feeling your skin has evaporated
into little more than scales on a butterfly’s wings.
can’t.even.see.a.concert.with.my.dad.
I turned…nicely….. “please, do you mind – just a little more careful, ladies . . .”
The big one, “turn
the fuck around, bitch.”
. . . “just here with my dad, trying to enjoy
the show . . . please . . .”
The little one, “
. . . who’s going to make us, you?”
At which point, Daddy turned politely:
“oh, I assure you, she
can – and most importantly, I’ve got her
bail – in any amount set when she’s finished, depending.”
They left. He
held my hand in his safe hands and we listened to Bette.
