Il Volo at Radio City, Piero Barone in a Jacuzzi and Everything Else Breaks Down

In so short a time, a little over two years, they had gone from a small “Meet Il Volo” performance in the Los Angeles outdoor Americana mall to selling out Radio City Music Hall.  I knew I had to be there to witness this.  I know I would rather see him in New York City than in Boston ... until Boston gave me a front row seat, and New York gave me a seat in SS after a mere 15 seconds of ticket sale time had passed, that is.  THEN Boston was irresistible.

I didn’t know they had sold out until I got there.  I knew I had to get out of the awful hotel for dinner – OH MY GOD that hotel was disgusting.  Manhattan at Times Square.  And it was actually a Sheraton!  Absolutely disgusting.  I swear I thought I was going to the other Sheraton across the street (7th Avenue and 51st-52nd Streets), and how I ended up in the garbage pit I ended up in I had no idea – another Sky Sadist gut-busting giggle fest, I’m guessing.  Hit the wrong button, ended up in hell.  No pool.  No room service.  In the middle of dangerous renovations.  Filthy walls, filthy bathrooms, broken bed springs, angry employees - everything that could be wrong with the place WAS wrong with the place.  I walked in the front door and went into shock, it was so awful.

I ran out to dinner and ended up at Morell’s Wine Bar & Cafe on 49th, just across Rockefeller Center from Radio City.  When I came around the corner of 51st and saw “SOLD OUT” on the Radio City marquee, I swear, I grinned like a lunatic.  My boys!!!!  SOLD OUT!  They claimed they were speechless.  I wasn’t.  Right at the corner of 51st and 6th, I shrieked, “Yes!”, and didn’t care who heard me, or even looked at me oddly.

Best dinner I’d had in ages, pan seared rock cod, shitake mushrooms, broccoli florets, sitting on a white wine and spinach puree; everything sprinkled with clover.  Heavenly.  Absolutely heavenly.  A Tempranillo (which I should have written down but didn’t – and ask me if I care if it was a dark red with fish!  No really.  Go ahead and ask me) rounded it out, and the wine was exquisite.  I should go get some.  If I could remember what it was.  Argh!  But really.  Heavenly.

Came back to the world’s most expensive and filthy garbage dump, eyed male urine droplets on the bathroom fixtures,  tried not to puke, and took a shower.  Then started dressing.  Then realized I hadn’t packed any extra bras.  (*sigh*)  Oh, of course not!

The blessing?  For once, my make-up went on flawlessly.  Not a smudge on me.

Radio City was so bursting with people they sent us around to the side door to check bags and run wands up and down your clothes to make sure you weren’t  sneaking a meth lab in under your coat in honor of “Breaking Bad”.  Another blessing:  my seat, even if it was an SS row, was on the aisle, so I didn’t have to trip over anyone to sit down.

They didn’t go with the silhouette opening, but did a live opening … and when those magnificent golden curtains lifted and everyone could see them, the entire hall erupted with cheers and shrieks.  Thunderous.  One of the first things Piero did was walk in an intense circle and you could see he was trying to ground an excess of frenetic energy

The concert was awesome.  They were awesome.  Don't believe me, go watch some of the videos on YouTube.  I adore Il Volo - can you tell?

Losing track of an entire day in my inner mind’s calendar meant all sorts of other things went haywire.  I realized on Sunday I should have picked up my newly cleaned comforter back on Wednesday, and had put it off thinking I had an extra day.  Now it was Sunday and the store was closed.

The clothes washer in my apartment was now broken (of course it was!!); I’d never used the hell-on-earth that was the communal laundry room.  Threw the dirty clothes into the machine along with the goop only to THEN read the sign on the wall that said, “No clothes washing after 8 am”.  THEN discovered you had to pay a ridiculous $2 per load with a “card”, but no sign told you which “card” they meant.  Credit card?  Laundry card?  What?

I had a washing machine in Seabrook, an hour away, but a car with a “service engine soon” light that kept going off and no way to get it looked at until the following weekend.  I could have done my grocery shopping up in Seabrook, too, were it not for the fact that I needed ice cubes.    The credit card didn’t work in the laundry room, so I now needed to get into my car and find a &^%$#@ laundromat.  And I am so not happy about it I’m shaking with pissed-offed-ness.

Losing a day also meant that I would not have the time to get my blood work done as planned.  I had to wait until next Saturday; messing up my ability to get the car worked on ... messing up my ability to get to Seabrook on the cusp of my having to fly to Raleigh for an entire f*cking week and sing kum-bah-yah in yet another bonding event.

Piero Barone:  The King of Atlantic City

I sat trembling in my apartment on Sunday morning, trying not to cry, desperately trying to think of blessings to recite. 

Piero was kind enough to post photos of himself in Atlantic City, where they went post Radio City Music Hall ... in bed with a mirrored ceiling, and in a jacuzzi in his bedroom... both of which he found so refreshingly astonishing, he had to take photos of himself in both, looking like the King of Atlantic City.