The other day my friend called and asked if I followed American Idol last season, which of course we did. Every episode. Sometimes several times.
She then asked, sounding suspiciously like a game-show host, who I wanted to win.
"David Archuleta," I said quickly. Then thought about it. "But I really liked David Cook, so I was good either way."
You'll be happy to know that was the right answer. Not like the schmuck she'd called before me, who also claimed to be an Idol fan, but then didn't even know the contestant's names. She went on to explain that she had some tickets to the upcoming Idol concert that she couldn't use. And while she could have sold them, she and her husband were feeling generous, and wanted to find someone special to give them to. By special she meant someone who actually followed the show and would be excited to be there. Her final test was to listen to my kids screams when I told them. (Not really, she'd hung up by then, but they did scream, and I did call her back to tell her.)
So on Monday, off we went to the E-Center. And I am here to tell you that those kids have an impressive set of lungs. And I'm not talking about the contestants. The young Idols were amazing - great voices and stage presence. But the performance that stuck with me (and I mean that literally) was the audience. We knew we were in trouble when we climbed past a group of girls wearing "I Vote David Archuleta" t-shirts. By the end of the night, my family was crowded at the end of the aisle, pushing as far away from them as possible.
The show itself was great. Amazing. We clapped, we cheered, we laughed. Then it ended, and an even more amazing thing happened. Every person in the building turned into a chipmunk. And I'm not making this up. There was a big, brawny guy behind me, who said in a squeeky little high-pitched voice "The car's that way." My children talked the same way. "Go over there." "That way's too crowded." The chipmunks were everywhere.
For a split second, I thought it was a special-effects trick. Until I realized that my voice was fine. Then I thought maybe it was the beer fumes. I did eventually figure out that it's what happens when your ear drum is IMPLODING!
Fortunately, the chipmunk-voice-effect stopped when I left the building. Unfortunately, it was replaced by the sound of a million tropical birds singing inside my head. I dreamed that night that I was in Disney's Tiki Room and the two David's were singing to me, "In the Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Tiki Room, where the birds all sing and the flowers bloom." The other guests were screaming of course.
You'll be glad to know that most of the birds have left. I'm now down to just a couple of small robins.
And I have a strange urge to go to Disneyland.
Now if I can just find another kind, generous friend to send me there. Cause that was pretty sweet.
But if I do go, I'm packing my earplugs, just in case David shows up.