This article from The New Hampshire, which is the student newspaper of the University Of New Hampshire was about Tori's March 4, 2003 concert in Durham, NH, but looks at things from a different point of view than a normal review. Check it out online or below. Thanks to gary for sending it to me.
The Diva's Dish
By Michele Filgate, TNH Columnist
What is it about certain artists that inspire us to do silly things? For instance, listening to a CD in your Discman on full volume and almost running out in front of the campus shuttle because you become oblivious to the world around you, as you walk around feeling like you have your very own soundtrack to life. Or spending an insane amount of time annoying your friends, co-workers, and even the bank-teller by talking about the concert you will be attending with your favorite singer who you equate to a goddess as they roll their eyes, nod their heads politely and silently ask themselves what medication you are on.
Perhaps the most ridiculous thing of all, though, is waiting in the lobby of the Whittemore Center for two hours to meet Tori Amos as she steps off her bus, even though the box office people already told everyone firmly "NO, her meet and greet has been canceled." Fans were pressing up against the glass doors of the arena to speculate whether the lady on stage in the baseball cap was Tori or just a person doing a soundcheck, and one girl jokingly said she should have brought binoculars.
Whatever the case is, I usually find fame-seekers to be annoying. Name droppers are my pet peeve, because I've met a few people who base their entire reputation and self on their interactions with famous people--as if that defines them as a person.
Regardless of that pet peeve, I do not have any problems with indulging in a select few people that I would like to meet. And that list does include Tori Amos, who I have been listening to since elementary school when I didn't even understand her lyrics. Her talent never seeks to amaze and inspire me. Perhaps that's why I was thrilled to join a small crowd of "Toriphiles" yesterday who had traveled from New York, Boston and upper New Hampshire to catch their favorite singer on tour.
A bunch of us took various turns trying to go up to Tori's tour bus when it arrived, but the farthest we got was the port-a-potty, an unfortunate distance from the singer. Then we all stood around in the lobby. Some fans had been there since 8 in the morning, and others had just arrived at 2 o'clock. A girl from New York stood around with a Buzz Lightyear blanket wrapped around her, chatting with me about her favorite albums, while others who grew tired of standing played some UNO in a small circle on the floor.
Finally fed up with the weight of my ridiculously oversized backpack I was lugging everywhere (oh the joys of being a commuter student!), I decided to go work on some homework in Kendall Library and come back for the show at 7, a half an hour before it began. When I came back to the arena, I realized my seats, while nothing to complain about, would not offer much of a view since they were on the left side of the Whit and Tori primarily faces the right hand side during her shows. A little bummed out, but still thrilled to be there, I decided to stand on the slow moving line and pay for a ridiculously overpriced but adorably cute celadon green Tori t-shirt.
The 35 bucks I spent was well worth it. No sooner had I waited for the merchant to ring out my purchase when the credit card machine, as slow moving as the line, acted up. The guy told a couple of girls who had gone before me to hand him their tickets, and when they asked why, he said casually "Oh, I guess you don't want front row tickets then."
My heart stopped. These random girls would be getting tickets in FRONT of Tori the whole show. But when they told him they already HAD front row tickets, I had some hope. I told the guy I wanted the tickets. He ignored me. The credit card machine seemed to take forever. I was annoyed, and the show was starting any minute.
After my receipt FINALLY printed out, the guy came over to me. Expecting him to hand me the receipt, he instead asked me how many people were with me. I told him I was by myself (which is okay people--you can have fun at a concert by yourself too!) and he then proceeded to hand me the gold. Or something like it. None other than a front row CENTER seat to the show. I kept staring at it in disbelief, and the girls behind me told me how envious they were.
I must say that I am not ashamed to admit that my unbelievable seat made my night. Up so close to the stage, I was able to see every facial expression Tori made and I felt like I was in a dream, ridiculously happy as I bonded with fellow fans around me and we commented on the show. Ironically enough, one of the copy editors, Janis, scored a free ticket also to the front row--needless to say we both were in our glory.
So yes, our inspirations tend to cause us to do ridiculous things, like gloat about front row seats at a concert. As long as we don't make a life long profession of dwelling on the rich and famous, like some people I know, then we are perfectly entitled to have our obsessive moments.
Comments? Questions? E-mail me at email@example.com