True Story from the Middle Spectrum #2

True Story from the Middle Spectrum #2:
It’s a God Thing

As you all know, a month and a half ago, I went to see Michael Buble. What no one knows, is that to see Michael, I had to make a decision between going to see him, and going to see Scott MacIntyre. Well, obviously, we all know the choice I made: to see Michael.

I won’t lie, I really, really wanted to go see Scott, and it broke my heart that I couldn’t go. So after I saw Michael on June 25th, and then Adam Lambert on July 16th, I thought, “Well, my summer concerts are done.” And I assumed that was that.

First off, let’s do some back up on Scott. I have loved Scott MacIntyre since I first heard him on American Idol a year ago. I remember watching him at his audition, wearing a “Never Mind the Gap” t-shirt, and thinking he was great. And he was. You don’t get to the top ten in that show because you suck. Well, sadly, he came in, in 8th place and I cried that evening, hearing that Simon refused to save him in the competition. I remember going out into the garage where Mom was talking on her cell, tears rolling down my face, and her saying, “Ah honey, he didn’t make it in?”

That was the part where I nodded, went on a tirade about how Simon and America’s voters were stupid, and proceeded to go onto Facebook to rant. Pretty much was a bad a night for me. So, now you can tell, I’ve loved his guy for a long time and it hurt me that I wouldn’t get to go to his concert.

Of course, that was before Monday came around. It was around six forty in the evening, David was just coming home, and we were about to go to life group. Minutes later he came in, and while saying hi to Mom, calmly handed me tickets. I looked down to see the words: Scott MacIntyre. That was all I needed to burst out into screams, and collide into David for a hug. I could tell, this was going to be an awesome week.

I spent the next three days with my grandparents (and had a blast). At last, Thursday came along, and I spent two hours getting ready for the show. I actually had to leave early though, because Temple Grandin was giving a talk at the Barnes and Noble on the East Side, and that was at four. So it was actually one o’clock when I was getting ready. I put on a black, white, and red patterned dress I got from a friend of Grandma Jackie’s, a necklace and earring set of vintage jewelry, and a black purse with matching flip flops. I had done my makeup, and Grandma Reed curled my hair and pulled it back. All in all, I looked pretty good.

Well when I met my Mom at Barnes and Noble, we quickly found out that Temple Grandin wasn’t doing a talk… she was doing a book signing. So we bought her new book, had her sign it, and then left the store with—oh—three hours to now kill.

We hung around at Towne East for a while, and I actually found two prom dresses (both of them over 100 dollars originally) and bought them both for 32 dollars since there was a sale going on. Before that we had grabbed Subway, and after checking out a few stores, we left to go to Old Towne were the Orpheum was. We then shopped around at Lucinda’s, and after waiting a bit longer, it was time to go to the Orpheum. The hour: 7:00.

We meet Grandma and Grandpa up there, and I latch onto Grandma while Grandpa and Mom hang around Old Town. Gram and I walk into the Orpheum and decide it’s time to get our first order of business done: getting less crappy seats.

Now, first off, you have to understand that David didn’t pay for these tickets. A friend of his won them on the radio, asked around if someone wanted to go, and David snatched them up for me. The seats we had, all though free, were in the back of the balcony. And does anyone want to sit there? NO.

So I found a nice looking usher, about Gram’s age, and said, “Excuse me, sir!”

He looked at us with a smile and said, “What can I do for you?”

And I replied, “Well, you see, my dad got these tickets off a friend who won them in a contest on the radio. Now, these seats are all the way up in the balcony, and I don’t want my Grandma having to walk up there with her heart issues.” (And by the way, I’m not completely making these up… she did have a heart attack last year.)

So the usher looked at me, and then looked back at her, and said, “Here, we’ll get this figured out for you.” Thus he turned to another co-worker and called, “Rhonda!”

Soon this nice woman comes out, and says, “What can I do for you?”

And he answers, “Well, this young lady and her granny are trying to get better seats. She doesn’t want her walking up all these stairs.”

So Rhonda (the woman) says, “OH! Well we have empty floor seats. I’ll get you guys there.”

Soon we’re in row Q, and on cloud nine. We both think, well, it can’t get any better than this! I go up later, get my Gram some popcorn and water, and then come up. Things are good, when all of a sudden; a woman from the audience walks up to us.

“Hey, do you guys want to get closer?” She asked.

“Sure.” I said.

“Well here you go, here’s third row tickets!”

I look at her, my mouth hanging open. Exsqueeze me? Was she messing with me?

“Are you kidding?” I asked, utterly shocked.

“No! Honestly, here you go.” And she hands me the tickets and walks away. Can you say, SCORE!

So now, we’re in row C and I’m feeling like the luckiest gal alive. I remember how something like this happened during the Michael concert, and I was moved down to row three directly stage left. Three must be my lucky number because lightning struck twice for me.

Finally the opening act, The Acrocsticks, began their set. They were pretty good to my surprise. I don’t like country, but their harmonies and musicality really impressed me, so I definitely had to give them props. They sung “Hallelujah”, a song one of the band members wrote, and “American Honey”. It was a great way to kick off the evening.

At last, Tracy (a host of B98 FM) announced Scott’s performance… and I about passed out. Everyone clapped for him, and I gave a slight squeal. He was lead on by a woman towards a piano in the middle of the stage. He was so, so handsome. He was wearing jeans, a purple shirt, and this HOT leather jacket. What a rockstar…

During the whole performance he played his piano, and he sang beautifully. Seeing him on TV gave him no justice. The songs (most of them he wrote) were well done and he was pitch perfect. And remember guys, Scott’s blind. Imagine sitting in the audience, watching a blind guy play the piano perfectly. It utterly astounded me how wonderful he was.

There was an intermission after he played about eight songs, and I waited excitedly for the second act. Before he would begin to sing his second set, we were allowed to ask him questions. It was like an audience Q and A thing. We would have a microphone to ask the question in, and he would answer it on stage. I all ready had my question in mind, and I was rearing to get it out in the open.

Finally the woman led Scott back on stage, and we all cheered. He stood a little ways from the piano, and then the Q and A began. I walked over to one of the microphone people (her name was Erica) and stood next to her.

“I’m so nervous.” I confessed to her, “I’m shaking all over.”

She smiled at me and soothed, “He’s really nice, you don’t have to worry about anything. He’s done this before, and the last time he did it, he answered all the questions.”

At last the woman up front called on us, “There’s a young lady next to Erica who has a questions, Scott.”

I gripped the microphone tightly and spoke into it, only one thought running through my head, “HOLY COW! I’m talking to one of my HEROES!!!”

“Well um,” I began, “first off hi!”

He was so sweet. He said back, “Well, hello! How you doing tonight?”

“Very good, thank you.” I answered. “Well, I have to ask this since I’m sure some of us here are curious… are you single?”

Everyone burst out laughing and a guy behind me whistled. I felt myself blush, but I smiled and no one could really tell I was nervous. He laughed too, and my heart flipped.

“Well,” He said, “you’ll have to follow me on twitter and Facebook to figure that out. I’m going to keep that a mystery for now.”

“That’s just mean,” I pouted teasingly. Everyone laughed again, I said thank you, and sat back down.

After everyone asked their questions (including some jerk that tried to steal the spotlight from him) he began playing once more. Everything was so surreal, I still feel like it was a dream, but there was one thing he talked about that really hit home for me.

He told us a story, and hearing this from him will stay with me for the rest of my life. When he was nineteen he was diagnosed with kidney failure, and he had to go through dialysis. There were times when he was only strong enough to lay on the floor. He couldn’t even sing he was so drained. The doctors didn’t know what caused this problem to happen, and he had to put his life and music on hold.

“You know how musical the MacIntyre family is?” He asked to the audience, “Well, it was silent in the house.”

But then, a miracle happened. His piano teacher’s wife donated a kidney to him, basically saving his life. He was able to have his life back, and he quickly went back to writing music. That was when he opened for another song.

“You know, I wrote this piece around the time I was being hooked up to those machines.” He said, “It’s called A View from Above. It’s about how sometimes we keep climbing and climbing that mountain, and we don’t see how far we’ve come until we turn around and watch the ground… fall away.”

So he sang that song with as much heart as I’ve ever seen any musician play with. During the whole thing, I was crying. I understood what he had gone through, since with my autism I’ve had to overcome the same things.

At last he finished his last song, and of course he gained a standing ovation. But now, it was time to go meet him at the Merchandise table. My Gram and I happened to get a good spot in line, and we stood there anxiously waiting. It was about ten minutes before he came out, but once I saw him, I let out a cry of delight.

“Oh my gosh!” I said, “I see him, I see him! HOLY CRAP! He’s sooo tall!”

He sat down at the table, and I began snapping photos like a crazed woman. Finally it was time for me to go up there and meet him. At last, another wish on my bucket list was being fulfilled.

I walked up there nervously, and he held out his hand. “Hello,” He said, “how’re you doing tonight?”

I took his hand in both of mine, and shook it graciously. “I’m doing awesomely, thank you.” I said. And here, I began my emotional monologue as he was signing my things, “Sir,” I said, “You are such a big inspiration to me. I’ve been following you since your audition last year, and you are so talented. It’s been a dream of mine to see you, and I’m in tears right now because it’s actually happening.”

He smiled at me and said, “Thank you. Now, who am I signing this for?”

I answered. “My name’s Erin.”

“How do you spell that?”

“E-R-I-N.”

He nodded, and wrote on my CD: “To: Erin, Love Scott”

As he signed two other posters of mine I mentioned, “You know, I just want to tell you, you’re really inspirational. I’m autistic, and I understand what you wrote about in A View from Above. It’s like we’re climbing and climbing, and we don’t see how far we’ve come until we get to the top and look at the view below us.”

He said, “Yes! That’s exactly what I mean. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“Wow, you’re seventeen and you get that. You should be very proud of that.”

Tears swelled in my eyes all over again, and as I leaned forward to hug him, I whispered, “Thank you, thank you so much!”

I waited a little while later so Gram and I could get our picture with him, and then we left. But still, what occurred last night at the concert is still with me, and I’m so thankful I got to go. As I waited to get a photo with him, I took out my Bucket List, and walked over to one of his crewmembers, a woman whose name I never go.

“May I borrow a pen?” I asked her.

She smiled and said, “Sure!”

She handed me a black one, and I unfolded my list in front of her and crossed out “meet Scott MacIntyre.” She watched me as I did so, and said, “You know, you’re something special, aren’t you?”

I replied, “Madam, I’d like to think so.”

She continued, “Well, I can tell from that list, you’re a very brave girl to dream these dreams.”

And I laughed and said, “Again, I’d like to think so.”

To me, being able to go to this concert meant the world to me. I got to meet Scott MacIntyre, and fulfill a dream of mine. And honestly, the likely hood of me going to see him was little to nothing on Monday… but I guess some things are meant to be, and a higher power could be willing to step in to make the possible, well, possible.

Is it a God thing?

Well, I’d like to think so.

“Nothing is impossible. Even the word itself says, I’m Possible.” ~ Audrey Hepburn