Hitting the big time
Friday, June 6th, 2008You know that moment in “The Sound of Music” when Maria is twirling on the streets, swinging her guitar case around her, and singing about having confidence in sunshine and in rain and in springtime? But then she catches a glimpse of the Von Trapp mansion, and her jaw drops, and all of a sudden she is speechless?
Subtract Maria. Insert Annie. Subtract Von Trapp. Insert COUNTRY MUSIC STAR.
Last night, through a series of events too complicated to relay, I was invited to a party at a celebrity’s house. What level of celebrity are we talking here? Well, a notch below a Kenny Chesney. A notch above a Dierks Bentley, or a Joe Nichols, or a Blake Shelton. A firmly established, very successful singer/songwriter who has written major hit songs for both men and women, as well as himself. A man I’ve seen on CMT and at the Opry. An artist who, if I said his name, any country music listener would know.
I was determined to play it cool. As Us Magazine reminds us with their oft-incriminating photo spreads, stars are just like us, right? Nobody wants to talk to the star-struck girl. I was going to walk in and be all, oh what, fame? money? #1 hits? Yeah, whatever. Who wants to play pool?
Let’s be honest. I was not that girl.
I spent the evening sneaking around with my camera, covertly snapping pictures of things that needed to be documented. While various musicians and radio personalities were in the kitchen taking shots and name-dropping and grabbing each other’s asses (literally), I was on the back veranda with Katie and Erin having a dance party under the stars, singing “Sweet Caroline” at the top of our lungs, and informing the others which one of us had just taken a poo in a country singer’s bathroom.
I AM NOT TELLING YOU WHO.
I was hanging around the grand piano until I finally got up the nerve to sit down and play along (read: tinker along) with Tom Petty blasting out of the speakers – at which point, the charismatic host came over and engaged in a short but peppy conversation about the music business. It took all that I had to refrain from breaking out into one of his songs mid-sentence, but I succeeded. Annie – 1. Humiliation – 0. Way to go, self.
This morning I am at work, after 4-hours of sleep and maybe one too many shots of whiskey. But after last night, does my life feel just a little bit more complete? Perhaps.
In closing, I’m sorry. I know that you are dying to know who I am talking about. I will tell you this: it was not Tim McGraw. Because trust me, if it had been, I would have no qualms about saying INTERNET, I TOOK A POO IN FAITH HILL’S TOILET.
