Last week I posted about boy bands. Specifically, their turtlenecks. This week, I met a boy band. If I believed in Oprah, I’d think this was straight out of her Book of The Secret.
Lauren (former co-proprietess of this blog and musical theatre dramaturg) called yesterday morning and instructed me to get a Zip Car and race to the Rotunda. I arrived and we sat in a room with a gang of ladies until the Back Street Boys walked in. And then they played five of their songs and ten or so of us in the room awkwardly chair-danced while the remaining five mouthed the words to the songs, which have not yet been released. Then people told stories of how BSB got them through hard times, and encouraged two young Bosnian gals to learn English and move to America because they knew the band would never tour there.
Because Lauren and I are too cool for everything, we quietly shit-texted about everyone in the room and then tried to not be impressed when they sang a capella for us (eventhoughtheywerereallygood).
We were definitely not too cool to get pictures with the band, however. I put out my hand to shake and was instead enveloped in hugs from each band member. I was always a little more Team NSYNC (Lance Bass was my JAM at 13 because my gaydar was still forming), but as each aging pop star hugged me I imagined how! freaking! awesome! that would have been for me at the turn of the millennium.
It was a little weird, though, to be on this side of life with people who added to the sound track of my early teens. They’re all married with kids, and I’m married with cats. We’ve all grown up, and no one is breaking decibel counters when they walk in a room anymore. A superfan asked how one member felt about being the father figure of the group, and five adult men in their thirties looked back at her, unsure how to answer a question that no longer applied.
I’m happy we got to meet them and listen to them and check in, like getting coffee with an old friend. Remembering that I had their CD’s and watched them on TRL and called radio stations to request their songs because being 13 or 14 or 15 was different back then, even though back then wasn’t really all that long ago. You didn’t just have access, you had to work for it a little. The songs made you feel like you were the only person in the world, and not like you were the hottest person in the eighth grade. They weren’t sex symbols, they were crushes, and it was nice.
Thanks to Lauren and Clear Channel for setting up this little midday meet & greet. It was fun to be a tween again.
acharmedcity.wordpress.com 