To Change This Lonely Life

I don’t have a lonely life, actually.  The subject lines is in reference to the fact that I found myself in yet another situation that, had you asked my teenaged self what the likelihood of such an event ever coming to pass, I would have denied with a tornado like ferocity.

On Saturday night at about 10:45 PM you would have found me in front of a stage in Orillia Ontario lustily singing along with 5,000 of my peers to “I Want To Know What Love Is” a song which, up to that very moment, I had not realized I knew in its entirety.

This weekend I sallied up north to Casino Rama to watch Foreigner in action with my pals Kim and Christine.  The Casino itself is an enormous edifice that pays a vague homage to Native American heritage in the form of simulated rock formation waterfalls, vaulted ceilings and the occasional hieroglyphic.  Also, a large plush black bear that seem to be the epicentre of tourist photography.

The room we rented was spacious and quite nice, and we decided to try our hand at the slot machines where Kim and I immediately lost and Christine won $95.  Apparently I am as skilled at slots as I am at shots.  Within about half an hour we had exhausted our interest in the gambling floor and moved on.

Foreigner is not a band I have ever claimed to like and I certainly never owned an album of theirs, but they have been around since 1976 and have been a mainstay on commercial radio for as long as I have known of such a thing.  Their list of hits is a long one and apparently has worked its way into my internal jukebox over the years.

Cold As Ice. Dirty White Boy.  Double Vision.  Feels Like The First Time.  Head Games.  Hot Blooded.  I Want To Know What Love Is.  Juke Box Hero.  Say You Will.  Urgent.  Waiting On A Girl Like You.

Kind of ridiculous really.  They played them all and I was 13th row centre to watch it unfold.  There were a couple of absolute highlights – two rows ahead there was a gentleman sporting one of the most majestic mullets I have ever seen who remained the only one standing, mesmerized,  during a rather lengthy synth solo. I told Christine it looked like the Mother Ship was signalling him to come home.  Just down the row to the right of us there was a typical Italian Nonna, I suspect well in to her 70s, bespectacled and sitting stoically who knew all the lyrics and sang along to every single song.  Don’t judge a book, I suppose.

As I mentioned I once would have spat at the very thought of listening to Foreigner (on purpose).  I have learned as I have grown older the step away from the angsty, self important bands that guided my youth and to embrace those who have a sense of humour and a true perspective of their place in this world.  Foreigner absolutely do and they put on a kick ass show.  The musicianship was excellent, the vocals were fantastic and the energy was unflagging.  We DID realize about half way in to the concert that there was not a single founder member of the group on stage as a guy named Bruce Watson was subbing in for the original guitar player, Mick Jones. It inspired us to ask the question what actually constitutes a band and at what point are you legitimately still the same entity if all the members are different from whence they began.  If you check the Foreigner Wikipedia pages it lists 7 current members, 18 former members and 14 touring members and they have a handy flow chart to help you keep up.  Christine suggested it would be more accurate to called them “Forger” instead of “Foreigner” now.

The currently lead singer is a rather comely fellow named Kelly Hansen, who we decided looks like a poor man’s Steven Tyler with some Rick Springfield added and just a dash of Alice Cooper.  He quipped often about the tightness of his own pants (I looked – he wasn’t lying) and he had an easy repartee with the crowd.

And yes, all three of us agreed that we would easily volunteer for a conjugal visit with him were the opportunity to arise.  He is a sexy beast, with great pipes and a very good sense of humour.  The concert was excellent as was the opportunity to escape with some pals.  I seriously cannot remember the last time I  laughed as hard as I did this weekend.  I am going to count that as exercise to combat the almost unceasing amount of food I consumed.

It was another weekend filled with new experiences, including a not-even-remotely drunk Kim getting cut off by a rather embarrassed waitress who claimed there was some restriction under the Alcohol and Gaming legislation (which I am not QUITE prepared to believe).  I’ve seen Kim WAAAAAY worse off, and we had consumed at least half a pound of late night nachos by then which would have staved off a jag in the most determined tippler. Next time we’ll do some hopping instead, or at least dust off the wineskins.   I am looking forward to seeing what the Orillia locale has yet to offer –  I will keep my eye on the listings to see what comes up and hopefully something will replace the “Juke Box Hero” refrain that has been playing on an endless loop in my head for the day.


One Response to “To Change This Lonely Life”

  1. tim kirkwood says:

    I lubbs ya, mad pixie.

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