Hangin' Tough
filed on Thursday, January 01, 2004 at 11:59:59 PM CST

Let it be said that regardless of what other band or group I see this year, I have already seen the most potentially embarrassing act, and I did so on the first day of the new year.  By now, anyone familiar with New Kids on the Block have already made the connection to this article's title, and are groaning, thinking, "Oh, god, no... you didn't!"

We did.

Jill and I started off the New Year with a performance by Jordan Knight.  Yes, Jordan Knight, formerly of NKOTB.  And while I realize that I should be completely embarrassed, I'm not.  Okay, so the show was both nothing and exactly like I expected it to be, and perhaps the screaming, swooning, fainting girls were... a bit much (particularly since, I don't know, this IS 2004), but still, it was sort of like a strange eighties/nineties flashback.  He  performed several classic NKOTB tunes, and while I should never find myself admitting this publically, I had their albums, and listened to them repeatedly, and, in fact, woke up each morning for about nine months to my "Cover Girl" single ("Oh ooh oh, she's my cover giiiirl...").

There were a few guys running around too, including this one majorly hot blond, who was just adorable.  Perhaps I should clarify that they were out in the audience with me, not up on stage.  The blond was really, really cute... of course, since I'm hard pressed to even say, "Hello," to anyone who even remotely approaches the range of cute, I, as usual, just kept staring from time to time.  Jill and I think he was playing for my team, but hey, who knows, right?

Well, after the show (which included about fifteen minutes of Jordan singing various girl's names, causing many of them to go into deep comatose-like shock because he'd sung their name... this IS 2004, isn't it?), Jill and I embarked on the mission to find Jordan so that she could get this very cool picture autographed, that depicted the two years Jordan had spent in her bedroom.  Well, at least in effigy.  However, it tooks us well over twenty minutes just to figure out whether or not he was going to make an appearance to sign autographs (much less to sell the CDs they announced were going to be for sale that ended up not being sold anywhere in the House of Blues -- at least that we could find), because we both thought they'd said something about him coming out for a signing.  When we were finally booted out from upstairs to downstairs, Jill was showing the picture to a friend, and then suddenly just about everyone standing around, and this guy, who was obviously part of Knight's crew, said they were going to the Crowbar.

Now, if only we had been able to easily find the Crowbar.  We got directions there at the HoB.  Take Dearborn to Division, make a left.  Take Division to Clybourn, make a right.  Take Clybourn to North, make a left.  Take North to Kingsbury, make a right.  Seems simple enough.  Get to Kingsbury, and discover that making a right takes you into the backside of warehouses, and decide, maybe they meant left.  Turn around and cross the street, find a gentlemen's club called VIPs, keep going.  Hmmm... this isn't what we're looking for.  Road ends, you have to make a left.  Drive around aimlessly throughout that area, decide, hmmm... maybe we're not in the right place.  Stop at a BP gas station, ask for directions.  Take North Avenue to Weed, make a left, take Weed to Freemont, make a... a... damnit, I forgot.  Whatever.  It's either left or right, it should be right there.  But wait, didn't we have to get onto North Avenue?  There's Weed.  Make a left.  What about North Avenue?  Ah, whatever.  What was that street with the F?  There isn't any Crowbar around here...  Yeah there is, my friend Rachel had a near death experience here.  No she didn't, you were just dreaming it.  Make a couple more lefts, a couple more rights, go around in circles, up and down, through some alleys.  WHERE THE HELL IS THE CROWBAR?  Stop and ask some guy on the street.  Turn right up here, go through the stop sign, go a little-bit straight, you'll come out behind some warehouses, and you'll be there.  Okay.  Fine.  Drive.  Where the hell is it?  I swear to you, everyone is a bunch of liars, this place doesn't exist!  Oh, hey, what do you think that place is with the black tiled entrance?  Stop and ask the Wisconsinites we'd bumped into twice before making the same sad loops as we were... "Yep, this is it.  He's not here yet, and the place closes at 11:00."  Hmmm... it's 10:30.  Is he really going to show up?

We wait and wait and then we have to use the bathroom, so we go find a Starbuck's, use the bathroom (man, remind me never to walk into a bathroom after the guy before me has been in there for ten minutes... at least not without some Oust {the air sanitizer} in hand), get something to eat, and head back.  Wisconsinites are still sitting there, finally give up and leave.  No Jordan.

At least we tried.

And that was how I spent New Year's Day.