Garth. Part 2. The Part that matters.

The concert is at Caesar's Palace in the Colosseum theatre, late on Sunday evening.   I am warned by my husband don't come back to the hotel wasted or crying (happy tears he's referring to).  I am warned by Ticketmaster that this is a phone free concert.   I'm a bit annoyed at that, seeing I just spent a mortgage payment on the tickets, I want to have hours of footage to reminisce on.  But I can't change it so it is what it is.  

The show is on the day we land, so I am tired as hell by the time we eat dinner.  We have been eating and drinking and swimming all day and it's finally time for me to walk to the venue.  I know the Strip in Las Vegas very well so it takes me no time to get there.  I'm early and the doors are still shut but the crowd is gathering.  4,100 other people waiting for the doors to open but I'm right at the front by the entrance when a lady walks by asking what seats I have.  I tell her and she hands me a lanyard.  Bright blue with his tour logo picture on the front and a QR code;  she tells me this is how I can get exclusive footage of the show the next day.  OH!! Well that's amazing!  The next person I talk to was a scalper, trying to sell tickets to the show last minute.  He catches my attention but I tell him I already have a seat.  I offer my two stub hub tickets to him to try and sell, but he turns me down when I tell him where the seats are.  I'm really stuck with these tickets now.  I considered not going into the theatre right away and also trying to scalp my tickets, but I didn't see anyone interested in buying his, so I figured my chances are even worse.    

I follow the crowd through the security at the front doors and am greeted by a nice lady handing me the Yondr phone case and shows me how to close up the pouch.  She prints the ticket that I have to hang on to for dear life if I want my phone back at the end of the show.  I tucked it in my purse, but I spent the better half of the night checking and rechecking that it was there and I hadn't lost it.  At one point I had dropped it on the floor, so it's a bit of a miracle I still had it in my hand when I found the staff at the end.  I hadn't wanted to miss a second of the show, so I bought two beers and brought them in with me.  I had no intention of going to the washroom, there's no way I was going to miss one second of this spectacle.  I will come to regret that decision.

Once I've found my seat there is a nice lady sitting beside me, and a nice couple in the adjacent row in front.  We make terrible small talk but I do learn the woman beside me is a massive fan and has travelled around the world to see him.  She has met him a few times and told me that he is just the nicest guy in person.  He had signed something for her and she took that to a tattoo artist to imbed it on her forearm.  I would do the same thing friend, great idea.  We chat a while longer and the lights dim.  The theatre is on their feet and the noise is deafening.  This Caesar's Palace location will be my fifth time seeing him in concert and the crowd is as just as loud as 61,000 people in Edmonton.  

As he takes the stage, the noise doubles and my screams are drowned out by the strum of the guitar and the first notes of his voice belting.   We are all on our feet, jumping, crying, singing at the top of our lungs. Being front row I have the most incredible views.  When he walks to stage right I nearly pass out.  He is IN FRONT of me.  The proof is in the pudding... when this man, who has been Entertainer of the Year in 1991, 1992, 1997, 1998 and after a decade-long hiatus, came back to win in 2016, 2017 and 2019 is standing directly in front of me, time stood still.  There is no question in my mind that this man is an entertainer.  His crowd work, his banter and charm, his dazzling blue eyes and gorgeous smile wins over the crowd and everyone will leave this theatre on cloud 9.  I however have even more reason to be elated.  

He held my hand.

About mid way through the show my hands and wrists started hurting.  The crowd along the stage had not sat down for one damn second as we are on our feet, slapping the stage in reaction to songs we love, thumping our fists to the beat of the music.  He plays all of this hits, and pauses here and there to tell a story or two.  About his life, his music history and idols as he grew up.  He strums the opening chords of a song called "Much Too Young...To Feel This Damn Old" and the crowd lights up again.   I am pressed against the stage both hands in the air singing at the top of my lungs (and I don't even like this song very much).  I see him walking towards me and I catch his attention.  From four feet away we lock eyes and he walks towards me, my right arm outstretched so goddamn far it's about to pop out of its socket.  If he doesn't reach for my hand I might breakdown.   His left hand plays the next note and seamlessly he reaches for my hand.  For a second and a half his large, strong, sweaty grip held my hand as he looked into my eyes.  As he walks away I turn to my new friend and face the crowd.  I fall backwards dramatically on to the stage like I've died and gone to heaven.  Because I fucking have.   In doing so, I crash my right arm onto the speaker on the stage and know I'm about to wake up with a welt.  It was worth it. 

At this point I need to go to the bathroom, but I am not going to miss any more chances to hold his hand, or get a high five.  The show continues with a severe lack of hand holding I must say, and the final slice of heaven occurs when he walks past me.  I brazenly reach out and grab his leg, my hand half resting on his jeans (Wrangler in case you're wondering) and the back of his wheat colour Timberland boots.  Only for a second though, I didn't want to seem like a creep and get kicked out.  The show went on a while longer, my voice box growing more and more strained.   When I thought that my night couldn't get any better Mr. Brooks, in true fashion, leaves the stage for a small break.  You may wonder why I am not completely beside myself with that statement.  And the only reason I am not is because for the next four songs I am entranced by the beauty and vocals of Miss Trisha Yearwood.   Every time I see her sing in concert I am in tears.  She was a big part of my love for county music in the late 90's, with songs like "She's in love with a boy" and "xxx's and ooo's ". Garth returns to the stage for their version of Shallow, singing and looking deep into each other's eyes.  They steal a kiss after the song ends behind Garth's black cowboy hat, and not a woman in that room wasn't jealous. 

Hindsight being what it is, I really, REALLY needed to go pee about 3 songs before the finale.  I held that like my life depended on it.  But the beers I drank, plus the whole day of travelling and drinking was catching up to me and the end of the night is a bit foggier than I would have liked.    The show ends, as almost all of them do, with Friends In Low Places.   The entire audience is on their feet, singing along, and cheering, a standing ovation that lasts probably ten minutes.  I am one of the last to leave the theatre, praying there isn't a long line for the bathroom.  Luckily there isn't, and I have to find that little tiny paper  in exchange for my Yondr to be unlocked.  I make my way out of the casino, taking my time, replaying the hand holding over and over.  I'm definitely a few blocks from our hotel and a few beers past tipsy.  I get up to the room and am having a hell of a time unlocking the door.  I fumble with the key, texting Mike through the wall, making all kinds of noise, and he's over me.   Remember the "don't come back drunk or crying"?  Whoopies.   I flop into the bed, telling him in my not-really-quiet-hushed voice that Garth held my hand and it was the best night of my life. 

Wedding day, kids being born, Garth holding my hand.  In that order. 

Now, how do I get front row to Luke Combs? 💕💕