Shattered Dreams

Let me tell you a little story about a band named Air Supply.

About a week and a half ago I received a text from my mother informing me that as part of radio personality Delilah’s “Paint the Town” project (which my lovely hometown of Bellevegas, IL was home to after beating out numerous other towns nationwide), one of my guilty pleasure bands, Air Supply, would be performing in downtown Belleville on October 17. Even though we were in the emergency room for a nasty case of hives that my son Ben had encountered, I was overjoyed by the news and immediately began making plans to not only attend the show, but also to volunteer my time painting my lovely hometown and sprucing it up a little.

Sure, my motives for volunteering were a little selfish as I was under the impression that only the volunteers would be able to attend the concert, but I made the phone call to my local city hall to volunteer my services nonetheless. Once they answered the phone, however, I was dismayed to find out that they had already accumulated close to 1000 volunteers and were not accepting any more. Disheartened, I quickly asked if I would still be able to see Air Supply.

“Who?” came the young voice from the other side of the telephone.

“Air Supply, the awesome 80’s Australian soft rock band that is playing on Sunday night for all of the volunteers,” was my reply.

“Oh, I don’t know. Sorry,” she said before hanging up.

Grrrrrrrrrrr.

Regardless of the steps I would have to take to see them, however, I was still convinced that I would be witnessing Air Supply – yes, THE Air Supply – live in concert in Belleville, IL on October 17 and nothing was going to stop me. I soon took to Facebook to brag to all of the out-of-towners that there were only X amount of days left until Air Supply and I was going to see them. The only problem was that I didn’t know where or how. Luckily, my sister was able to access the KEZK website and pass on the information that not only was the concert going to be open to the public, but that it was going to be held right in the town square. Double score!!

As the days passed and the concert slowly approached, I found myself getting more and more and excited. See, Air Supply has been a guilty pleasure of mine for as long as I can remember. I can still remember my mother putting Air Supply’s Greatest Hits(which is now in my possession) on the turntable growing up and listening to Lost in Love, The One That You Love, Every Woman in the World, All Out of Love, and my favorite, Making Love out of Nothing at All. Those songs have followed me through my life and are now on my iPod so that I can listen to them whenever I want. The melodious vocal stylings of Graham Russell and Russell Hitchcock were as much a part of my formative years as John Lennon and Paul McCartney and while John and Paul would eventually surpass them by leaps and bounds, Graham and Russell never failed to impress whenever I listened.

Sure, they were never “cool” and having a soft-rock band as one of your all-time favorites surely didn’t do much for my popularity, but I stuck by my guns and never hid my love for Air Supply. And now that they were coming not only to the St. Louis area, but to my hometown specifically, I was convinced that I had done something right and that this was a gift from God himself just for me. This was MY concert. Air Supply was coming to Belleville to play for ME. They were going to bring the band and play all of the songs that I wanted them to play and they were going to sound as great as they do on my home stereo and I was going to be right there singing at the top of my lungs the entire time.

This was going to be my night. This was going to be awesome.

And then Air Supply screwed it all up.

It actually started out quite harmlessly. Wanting to ensure that I got a good seat, I arrived downtown at about 5:15 for a 6:30 concert. The city of Belleville had been thoughtful enough to set up a bunch of picnic tables so I grabbed an empty one as close to the center as I could find. I would have just brought a lawn chair and sat really close to the front (mostly so that Graham and Russell could see me singing, pull me on stage, and ask me to help them finish out the show), but Dan and Chris were going to meet me up there and I figured that they would not think to bring lawn chairs. The table was to the right of the stage and had an excellent site line towards the Australian men that I worshipped. After plopping down, however, I realized that I had forgotten to stop and pick up some beer for the show. Bad start. A concert without beer is like church without God. It just doesn’t work.

After sitting by myself for about two minutes, I began to get itchy and started texting Dan and Chris to see when they would be arriving. Dan soon texted back and said that he wouldn’t be able to make it due to work. At this point I started to get a little bummed because not only was Dan not going to be able to make it, but Chris wasn’t responding and given the fact that he had been at the Ram’s game that afternoon I assumed he was probably either still drinking in St Louis or passed out on his couch at home. For all intents and purposes, it looked like I was going to be watching this concert by myself. Plus, nobody was going to be able to bring me any beer.

My spirits were quickly lifted though as Russell and Graham took the stage an hour before the show started to do a quick sound check. Now, I don’t know why I hadn’t noticed it before, but watching them up there I saw that it was just them. There was no drum kit and there were no big monitors all over the place. In fact, there was nothing much at all; just two guys, two microphones, and a guitar. Ummm, not good. How was I supposed to sing at the top of my lungs if the only thing drowning me out was an acoustic guitar and two soft-voiced Aussies? Things were beginning to look down, but I still had hope.

They quickly did a version of Lost in Love to sound check and it wasn’t bad. I was a little concerned that since they used the song to sound check that they wouldn’t play it in their set, but it was at least nice to hear it once. After that, they left the stage and I had an hour with nothing to do.

Nothing. At. All.

At this point, people started filing in a little more regularly and a lot of them were looking for places to sit. Realizing that my friends wouldn’t be joining me and thatI didn’t need an entire bench to myself and, I saw a nice-looking family walking around and asked them if they’d like to share my table with me. Pleased with the opportunity, they sat down which gave me the opportunity to a) leave the bench to go and get some beer, and b) occupy my mind. After returning with two beers (I had to go to a bar a few blocks away and order two Stags to go. They didn’t flinch.) I sat down and began texting Carol with an ongoing tale of me getting drunk and asking the nice family how much they wanted for their daughter (she was easily 23 or so). The story then morphed into the son not being the son at all, but instead he was the jealous boyfriend with a bad temper who was chasing me around the town square until I found a hiding place under the stage where I desperately feared for my life. Carol quickly grew bored with this (I don’t blame her) so I stopped texting. Dejected, I sat and drank my beer.

About 10 minutes before the show started, Chris texted me asking what time the show started. I told him that it started in 10 minutes and that he should bring beer. I was glad that he planned on coming, but I also know Chris very well and if he was texting me now, there was no way in hell that he was going to make it within the next 40 minutes much less the next 10. My suspicions were only confirmed when he said that he had just put some steaks on the grill, but he would try and make it before the end of the show. Knowing this was only an hour long show and there was no chance that it was going to happen, I told him not to worry about it as I was going to focus my time on receiving sexual favors from either Delilah or Air Supply anyway. He seemed satisfied with this.

Finally, at 6:35 after a cheesy presentation from the mayor to Delilah (where she mistakenly called Belleville “Bellevue”), Air Supply took to the stage and I prepared myself to be supplied.

If I had to take notes on the concert to pass on to Russell and Graham, this is how they would read. I would also read them in my angry voice.

1) You sound check for a reason and you’ve been doing it for 30 years. You should be better at it by now.

2) 20 minutes of a one hour show should not be spent constantly tuning guitars, telling stories/jokes, or wasting time in other ways.

3) If you have one song that requires your guitar to be tuned completely differently, BRING TWO FREAKING GUITARS!! I’m sure you can afford it.

4) Don’t come to my desk during my lunch hour while still chewing your stinky food and then proceed to bend down to give me unneeded instructions on a job that I’ve been doing for close to 10 years with your nasty ass breath (that was more of a note for someone here in my office)

5) If you’re going to tell a sad tale about the origins of a sad song that you recently wrote, at least make it believable. I didn’t buy it for one second. Not. One. Second.

6) Please get with Delilah and practice the name of the town you’re in before speaking into the microphone. BelleVILLE. BelleVILLE, Not Bellevue. BelleVILLE!

7) I realize that you were in New York last night and are leaving for Argentina tomorrow, but you’re playing in BelleVILLE today. Bring the whole band. That’s what they get paid to do.

8) For God’s sake, if you come to MY hometown to play a concert for MY city, then you damn well better play MY favorite song. I understand that without the entire band (reference note #7 again) it may lack a little something, but when you’re not really known for more than five or six songs you’d better play every damn one of those five or six songs. Leaving the stage without playing Making Love out of Nothing at all was a bigger kick in the nuts than mispronouncing the name of the city you’re in.

It is because of this list that I am now at war with Air Supply. IF they thought that they could stroll their happy little Aussie asses into my town and half-ass the entire thing than they are sorely mistaken. I deserved more. Belleville deserved more. The entire freaking United States of America deserved more. I have penned a letter to the department of immigration and mailed in off this morning requesting that they temporarily suspend the work visas of both Graham Russell and Russell Hitchcock until they comply with a certain list of stipulations. The list is not difficult, but full compliance must be met or they will never perform in this great country of ours again. The list is as follows:

1) Air Supply must make a public apology to the city of Belleville for both mispronouncing the name and for half-assing the show. The apology must be made while dressed as kangaroos.

2) Air Supply must return to our great city with THE ENTIRE BAND and play a show featuring all of their greatest hits and nothing, NOTHING, from the new album that no one outside of Australia gives a shit about anyway.

3) The show must end with the playing of Making Love out of Nothing at All. I will personally be asked on stage for this song where I will be given a microphone linked directly to my earpiece. In this way, I will get the satisfaction of singing along with the entire band to one of my favorite songs of all time while not ruining it for the multitude of fans that have gathered to watch this return visit. If it is not done to my satisfaction, the song will be replayed until I am happy.

4) Air Supply must also perform the concert dressed as either dingoes, wallabies, or as Paul Hogan from Crocodile Dundee.

5) They must promise to autograph the album that I had brought along to the show. They should avoid signing the album jacket on the spots that appear to be the site of dried up tears of disappointment, but really aren’t. Really, they’re not.

Assuming Air Supply agrees to and follows through with these demands, I will submit another letter to the department of immigration and arrange for their work visas to be permanently reinstated. I will also call off my personal war with them as being at war with me is no fun at all. I’ll give them Joel McHale’s home address, daily schedule, and most frequently called phone numbers as a warning. The ball’s in your court Air Supply. I’ll be waiting.

I guess until then, I’m all out of love.

Thanks for reading.