Duran Duran Mania on Broadway

Dish might be the only one calling it "mania" but in my world, twenty-five years of benign obsession constitutes mania of the best kind. Especially with my Duran Duran earrings and t-shirt ready to be worn (along with the huge L on my forehead) to Thursday's concert. If only I could unearth the 50-page Duran Duran term paper (along with the gentle warning from my teacher to find better hobbies) I wrote in high school, I'd be throwing it around in a confetti celebration of the band, whom I love as much--just not so hormonally--as I did when I was fourteen. This time, I'll hold back on the confetti since my beloved is going with me and it's a corny term paper anyway.

Dish doesn't care that they'll be playing new songs for the first hour--though the idea of not singing along bothers me. Also, I wish they'd mention more about their guitarist whom I've named "Sandy" for lack of knowledge of his real name. He's like the weird relative they don't want to include in the family album. After Duran Duran's musical chairs through the decades, I'm ready to accept a new clansman.

In any case, I'm thankful for my second row balcony seats. Twenty years ago, I was able to politely push my way up to the fourteenth row at a concert in Canandaigua, New York. I'll still be closer to them at the Barrymore Theater, though now I'm blind as a bat, so it doesn't matter.

Only here (and to my friend GF1 and BF) can I admit that aside from health and happiness of my loved ones, meeting Duran Duran is the highest wish on my Ellen DeGeneres life list (Isn't she the one who invented the life list?). Though I have the feeling it would make me faint for the very first time in my life. Faint and pee at the same time. In fact, the idea that I'll see them in concert again in under 48 hours is making me feel barfy. So, never mind. I'll put a repaired ozone at #2 on my life list.