Honestly, my musical taste has not changed much in the past 30 years since I graduated from the illustrious South Broward High School. I still LOVE me some Guns and Roses and Duran Duran, but I have noticed that I tend to listen to different 80s artists, too. Now that I am 50, I’m not always in the mood to scorch my eardrums with tales of Jack Daniels and “relationships” with strippers. No, sometimes, on purpose, I choose Huey Lewis over the cigarette-scented screamers of my youth. Watching his new Behind the Music is what did it. I sat there staring at the TV while my wonderful husband cooked, and I was amazed at how talented Huey was and disappointed that I didn’t get to meet him all of those years ago. I was disappointed at that time, but now the hurt and FOMO came rushing back.
It was 1991 and I was 20 and 11/12 years old. This has to be one of the most sucktastic ages a young person can be, especially a short, small-breasted one with a little too much chub. What I lacked in supermodel looks, I made up for in balls. I didn’t actually have balls, just the figurative ones that helped me ask for what I wanted. And I wanted those tickets and backstage passes to Huey Lewis that Y-100 was giving away. At that time, I was lucky to be the HR clerk in the General Rent-A-Car corporate headquarters, which was located very conveniently one floor down from Y-100. This is how my friend Theresa and I had met Michael J. Fox the year before. I was a professional elevator stalker.
But Huey wasn’t coming to the building; I needed these tickets. So, I walked my sassy 20-year-old ass to my boss’ office. He and I had a familiar relationship because he had dated my peer counseling teacher. This is probably how I got the job. It’s definitely how I got the job. Anyway, he agreed to “call upstairs.” I think I hugged him. We were allowed to do such things then.
So, a while later, I took the elevator one floor up to Y-100 and walked through the glass doors, well I opened them first, into the darkish waiting room. I told the receptionist that Dick had sent me up to get tickets. Dick was my boss’ name. People named Richard used to enjoy that nickname. I will never understand this. The receptionist handed me a Y-100 envelope with my name on it. I had never won anything from a radio station so I was super excited, even though I really didn’t WIN this. I tore open the envelope in the elevator and pulled out the passes. This is when I noticed that “no one under 21 admitted.” Fuckedyfuckfuckfuck!
I immediately walked back into Dick’s office. I didn’t take a breath; I didn’t look to see if he was busy, I opened with, “Can you call them and tell them I will be 21 next month?” I handed the passes to Dick and he shook his head. He said he would try. And Y-100 said “nope.” Basically, they couldn’t do anything about it even if they wanted to. It was the venue’s rule.
I went back to my office and shared this great injustice with anyone who would listen. They were all kind but agreed there was really nothing I could do. One of the young women I worked with, who was probably 23, offered to buy the tickets from me. I didn’t feel right taking money for something I didn’t pay for, so I gave the tickets to Gina. I was jealous and pissed at Gina, even though it was not her fault. I don’t know what I thought I was going to get out of meeting a rock/pop star who wasn’t my favorite, but I felt cheated.
I forgot about feeling cheated within a couple of weeks. Life went on. Gina and her husband had a great evening thanks to my tickets, so I was OK with it. I didn’t think about this whole episode until a few weeks ago when I was watching Huey’s Behind the Music. I was reminded of how upbeat and energetic and meaningful his music was. Then, I was reminded that onefriggingmonth kept me from meeting him. I wonder if he knows what he missed out on.
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