Chicago-gaga

I went to my second Lady Gaga concert last night, this time in Chicago.   Like me, you might find it hard to believe that I thought the crowd in Chicago was older, tamer, straighter and less costumed than in Milwaukee.  Go figure.  

BTW, these boots are being sported by a man.  Just sayin'.

Before I get to the actual concert antics, I have to tell you that only hours before I left for the concert, I was one sick puppy--as in flu-sick, not just weirdo-sick (although I cannot deny I am one sick puppy on any given day).  Saturday at noon (precisely), I was run over by a truck with a 102 fever.  My teeth were chattering, I couldn't stop shaking, my lungs were trying to hack right out of my rib cage.  It was horrible.  My guess: the flu.  The real flu.  I was down for the count by a punch I never saw coming. 

I spent all day Sunday on the couch, praying for a quick recovery.  As the person who I am pretty sure "gave" me this flu missed a week of work, I was really freaked out.  I didn't have a week to get better--I had until Monday night at 5 PM, the time I'd be leaving for the Gaga concert in Chicago. I was ready to bargain: "Dear Baby Jesus, I will [insert plea bargain of your choice here] if you heal me in time for the Lady Gaga concert on Monday night."  I utilized a virus cleansing method and slept with athletic socks on my hands so I wouldn't touch my face or eyes.  I visualized all sorts of happy, healing things floating in my body. I envisioned myself in a Gaga-egg of healing. I was incubating, getting rested for the concert. I was confident I would wake up cured on Monday morning.

When I woke up Monday, I knew I was screwed.  I still had a fever, albeit only 101.5.  I still felt like crap.  I still looked like crap.  My entire body ached. At least I wasn't hocking fur balls and lungs, but there was no doubt I was far from cured. I still had the flu.

I was bitter.  Being bitter does not help one bit; in fact, it just makes things worse.  I got pissed off and threw away my virus cleansing jar.  I threw the biggest pity party on the planet.  I was a miserable, bitter bitch.  I was too tired and weak to stomp around or throw things, but if I could have, I would have.  I waited months for this concert!  Damn you, seasonal flu!  Bitter, table for one.  

About noon, I took my temperature.  It was still 100.  I was on the verge of tears.....but, instead of crying, I slapped that pity party right off the map and decided to stop acting like a sick person.  I put away all the pills and the thermometer.  I did a final virus cleanse.  I took a shower and got out of those stinky sick-person pajamas. I took two Tylenol and got dressed for the concert.  I laid down and tried to rest.  I demanded myself to be better.

And, I was.

 I don't know what exactly transpired, but around 4:30 PM, I felt like a weight had been lifted off my chest.  I emerged from my egg, felt less achy and was no longer feverish.  The cloud lifted from my brain.  I can't say I was dancing in the streets but I was able to walk and talk at the same time.  I was as cured "enough" to be appropriate for concert-going.  I loaded kleenex, Lysol, hand sanitizer and even masks in the car, ready to be one with my Mother Monster.

I didn't end up going alone; a peer decided to buy a last-minute ticket joined me for the fun.  I offered to wear the mask for her own flu-safety, but we lived on the edge and I didn't end up wearing it. I'd like to give a big shout out to the Universe for making everything run so smoothly...it was almost unbelievable.  No traffic jams whatsoever.  A parking space within two rows from the entrance.  No traffic jams on the way home.  No return of the fever.  Thank you, Baby Jesus! Thank you, Universe!

As for the concert, we had a great time.  I'm still quite confused as to how it is possible that a Chicago crowd would be tamer than a Milwaukee crowd, but I can't complain--there was still plenty at which to gawk. All versions of Gaga were part of the fun--from soda-can hairdos to police line yellow-tape outfits, they were all there.  Quite to my dismay, I didn't see a lot of drag queens....they must have been somewhere else, perhaps on the dance floor.  (Or, maybe I did see drag queens and didn't realize it. Hmmm.)  Here's some guy who let me take his photo.  Actually, everyone I asked for a photo was quite accommodating.  (Funny how you can now take cameras into concerts.  I'm guessing that the advent of the cell phone with cameras ended the ability to prohibit cameras--what's the point?)

I regret to report there were people in my section seated during the show. What the hell were people thinking sitting down during a Gaga concert?  I was APPALLED!  For Monster sake, I just shook off a 48 hour fever and I had enough oomph to stand up--it was a travesty.  Mother Monster would have been very disappointed to see this....I hope she wasn't carrying binoculars.

Lady Gaga had less to say in Chicago in comparison to the Milwaukee show in September.  She was still wonderful and entertaining and liberating, but.....   Maybe she was sick.  Maybe she was tired.  Maybe she had used all her energy celebrating the release of her new video earlier in the day. Maybe she picked up on the tame feel of the crowd, leading her to be a bit more tame in overall performance.  Maybe she wasn't tame at all but rather I was warped in my flu-ridden brain. Maybe she's said it all.  Maybe she was hung over.  Maybe she didn't feel like wearing clothes....whatever.  She just didn't seem to have as much to say.

Maybe she's decided to just let the show do the speaking for her.  Works for me.

As I wrote last time, it's impossible to leave a Lady Gaga concert not feeling all warm and fuzzy and empowered.  You can't help embrace your inner little monster.  How can you not have a good time when it's raining unicorns and gay teddy bears?  You can't.  You have a great time and you build your self-esteem while doing it.


Flu? What Flu? Paws up, little monsters--we were born this way!
*************************************************************