A Friend (of mine) and Chicago’s Finest

Since we’re taking a short break from Vodka Fridays, I thought it might be fun to revisit happier times! So on Fridays, I’m going to share some short anecdotes from tours and times of past. This week, I’m going to share a story from the Astronaut tour.

In March of 2005, I saw Duran Duran in Chicago with several of my friends. These friends were people I’d met at the fan convention in New Orleans the September prior, and we’d all agreed to buy tickets and meet in Chicago. So, in every case, these were people I’d only spent one weekend (in real life) with beforehand.

There was great reverie that met me as I graced the doorway of the Doubletree closest to the airport – we dubbed it “The Duranie Dorms” as it was the hotel DDHQ had worked out a group rate for the weekend. My friends had already arrived and the hotel lobby/bar area was at a fever pitch with jubilation. Who could really blame us? We were there to see Duran Duran!

The next afternoon arrived within a blink, and we found ourselves getting ready and gathering downstairs to walk to the venue – it was so close we were able to amble to and from the Allstate Arena in record time. We walked around the venue, hoping to catch a glimpse of, well, just about anything including the Astronaut bus. Then, one of my new friends thought it would be hysterical to ask one of the police if they’d pretend to arrest her.

Not the greatest photo ever, but back then I wasn’t a professional Duranie, either!

Just thinking about this moment makes me laugh. Life felt so EASY then, and yet I know that somewhere in the back of my brain lies memories of arguments I must have had with my husband before boarding a plane bound for Chicago, or the long-ago, ancient worries hiding under dust bunnies in my head about leaving my two kids at home.(out of three…my youngest arrived three years later) Oddly though, the video playing in my head doesn’t replay any of that for me. It settles on the happy times. The laughter. The joy. And of course…hearing Sunrise in a shopping mall, over, and over again, before the weekend drew to a close…

But back to my friend and her chat with Chicago’s finest. After a little cajoling, we were able to convince the officer to pose for a photo with her against the police car, and after texting it to anyone we could think of that wasn’t with us, we gathered to wait until we were able to file past the front doors of the arena.

I can remember taking this and laughing the entire time…

If I could just stop time right there, I would, just for a few more minutes. I miss that feeling of anxious, fluttery butterflies in my stomach, or the nervous energy coursing through my veins. I can remember those times when I honestly didn’t know what the band was going to play, or whether or not I’d ever get a seat that close again (we were third row on John’s side for this show). I remember cackling with laughter over the silliest things that day, and while I have had thousands of joyful memories at dozens of shows since, there was something extra special for me about that show. It was the first I’d ever gone to with Duranie friends. It was the first time I’d ever traveled for any concert. It was also the first time I’d ever seen Dom play. (truth be told I didn’t even notice him that night. He was kept in the dark much of the time!) It felt like a great big, momentous beginning.

Little did I know, it was.


By Daily Duranie

Once upon a time, there were two Duran Duran fans. One named Amanda, the other named Rhonda. Over many vodka tonics, they would laugh about the idea of one day writing a book about their fan experiences. While that manuscript is still being composed...Rhonda thought they should write a blog. (What was she THINKING?!) Lo and behold: The Daily Duranie was born.

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