How to Meet a Star, Part Two: Tori Amos
A follow-up to Camina’s question. There’s also the old-fashioned way, by waiting outside of the stage door after a concert, hoping for a glance of your hero(ine) as they make their way from the concert, tired and exhausted, and into a limo in the hopes of a few hours sleep before getting on the road for their next gig early the following morning.
Get the picture? Usually not the easiest way to meet someone. Unless, of course, you’re Tori Amos. In 1995 or so my girlfriend and I saw her in Madison WI. My girlfriend wanted to wait by the stage door – not to talk to her, no, she was a shy, reserved, and downright timid young woman, she just hoped for a glimpse of Tori.
The fan handler (fandler?) announced that Tori would come out and would like to speak briefly to us, the 20 or so people huddled around the door, but that there would be NO autographs – in fact, if anyone asked for one, she was out of there.
She came out of the door, smiling and friendly, and most of the fans clustered around her breathlessly. She was gracious and polite and funny and everything you would expect her NOT to be, since she’s a star and therefore must be something of a prima donna, right, if not worse? But no, she just seemed genuinely touched that the fans were letting her know that they liked her music.
Not us, of course, because my girlfriend was too shy to make her way through the crowd, and I was being supportive boyfriend by her side. We just smiled at each other, and watched Tori enjoy the well-earned adulation.
Then she spotted us, hanging back. With amazing ease she parted the crowd, the melodic "excuse me" more powerful than Moses’ staff. She walked over to us, and took my girlfriend’s hand, looking intently up at her (she’s shorter, btw, than she sounds). "Did you like the show?" she asked, earnestly.
"Yes, I did. It was wonderful."
"I’m so glad you liked it." The merry eyes turned to me. "You liked it too?"
I would like to say I had some witty banter, some sly joke, something that made her throw back her head and laugh. Instead, all I could think of to say was "Thank you…for all of it." All the songs that had kept me and a million other teens from losing it as we fought our way through the hormone-induced storms. For sharing her pain and making it something beautiful. For not only being beautiful, talented, and intelligent – but also for being nice.
And still, more than a decade later, when I sadly celebrate the unniversary of my own marriage, she still speaks to me.
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