Garth

Chances are you probably don't like Garth Brooks as much as I do.  Or maybe you do.  But probably not.  When I thought about how this concert would be, I envisioned him walking onto the stage and me, like an 11 year old at a Justin Bieber concert, in a fit of total mania, grabbing my head with my hands, crying and screaming.  Thank goodness for everyone, that's not what happened.

The trip was a really quick ordeal.  The plane tickets turned out to be less than the concert tickets as long as we were willing to fly in one day and out the next.  That means we arrived in Vegas with just enough time to eat dinner, go to the concert, go to bed, and fly out the next morning.

Because I am a pessimist in many ways, I came up with a lot of things that could have gone wrong.  Our planes could have been delayed causing us to miss the concert.  We could have sat alone of every leg of our flights due to Southwests' cattle call seating. We could have left the tickets at home.  The hotel could have messed up our reservation.  We could have gotten lost on the way to the concert.  We could have gotten food poisoning (or more likely I could have fallen victim to my much too common "evening sickness" complete with an excruciating headache.) I could have brought my camera to the venue and been denied entrance because they're not allowed.

But like those few magical times in life,  the night was perfect. Completely hiccup free, right down to people willingly giving up their seats on the planes so we could sit together.  I started with a headache in the afternoon and my Tylenol was kind enough to nip it in the bud.  We ate a most delicious dinner at the Wynn's buffet.

And almost like it was just for me, the TV screen right next to our table kept flashing this reminder, just in case I forgot why we were there.

As you might guess, Las Vegas is not exactly our scene.  It has never been a place I've dreamed of visiting. One visit was enough. If we were into doing any thing that needed to "stay in Vegas" it'd probably be a different story.  But one thing it has to offer, that I like to take advantage of, is people watching.  Las Vegas is kind of like Walmart to me.  You go there, and because of the diverse population it draws, it's easy to look around and think, "Hey, I'm actually pretty normal."

The buffet was divine.  I ate thirds and left feeling more pregnant than I have in a few years.  Dan was a dream date, with a wink and a drink, he even went back to get me more food and let me eat off his plate.

After dinner we strolled around the casino and took some more grainy cell phone pictures, which are now becoming my specialty.

But soon I could wait no longer and we found our seats in the theater.

I think it held about a thousand people.  It felt very small and intimate for a concert and from our seats on the second row of the balcony we had a perfect view.

And then after a little wait, he came out. And I didn't cry or scream. There he stood with his acoustic guitar, next to a stool with two bottles of water on it. There was no set, there was no band.  And despite the lack of bells, whistles, drums, or cymbals, it was positively the best concert I've ever been to.  He proceeded to explain that during our time together he would show us "how Garth Brooks got his sound".  He told about his family and told stories about growing up.  And he played the songs of the musicians who inspired him.  Among many, there was Haggard and Jones, Bob Seger and Elton John, George Strait, and even a little Monkees and Simon and Garfunkel.  And I only loved him more, when he said that his hero was James Taylor.  He played a lot of James Taylor and I was in heaven.

The second half of the concert he performed his own music. Trisha Yearwood came out and sang a couple of her songs just for the cherry on top.

Instead of that burst of crazy girl emotion I anticipated, I found myself crying silently as he played certain songs.  When his voice, like melted butter poured out of his mouth and fell onto his fingers so expertly strumming and plucking his guitar.  I was surprised at his guitar skills- really, really phenomenal.

And at the risk of sounding like the giant cheeseball I am, I have to say that what I experienced at that concert was nothing short of a spiritual experience.  Of course, everybody is born with certain talents and gifts.  And some people's talents are ones that are easily set on a stage and visible by others.  And of those blessed with the ability to make music, there are degrees of mastery.

But what was witnessed, whether a country music fan or not, was like the intersection of mortal and immortal.  A human being expressed, in a completely unadulterated fashion, the mastery of a gift given to him by his Maker. He was born to make music and I was feeling really lucky to be close enough to hear it. There were just times when he sang and played from a different place.

 I told Dan this concert was one of the best presents I've ever gotten.  And I meant it. I lost any desire I'd had to see Garth Brooks perform at a stadium, with all the fans, the hype, the band, and a bunch of amplifiers.  Not that I'd turn him down if he got me tickets. But now that seems totally unnecessary.  This experience is one I definitely will not be leaving in Vegas.