Going to Greek Theatre, or The Greek as otherwise known, was an experience like no other. It was the largest indoor arena, and people of all kinds walked around to experience the ambiance. Famous people, unknown bands, known singers, groupies, and concertgoers came from miles around. They all loved it there, and so did I. I used to notice how all of the visitors’ shirts meshed together like a finely woven blanket with different colors of yarn. Everyone came from different places, but they all were there for the same reason: to listen to the best music ever played.
My father was the general manager of The Greek. He loved music, mostly rock, eighties, and nineties. My dad had been going to concerts since he was thirteen and always bought a t-shirt. So to say he had a few concert t-shirts was putting it mildly. He started working at The Greek at a young age and never left simply because he loved his job. He accumulated so many stories and told me of numerous freak events. Having witnessed them first hand, he always knew the inside scoop and would share it with me. I was even lucky enough to have one of the Wear Purple ticket stubs from Prince’s sold-out Purple Rain concert in my possession.
There is one concert that will forever hold a place in my heart. It was the Nirvana benefit concert performed to raise money for Bosnian rape victims. They opened with the very emotional song Rape Me, and while the cause moved me, it was the emotion in the song that made me fall even more in love with music than I already was. After I left the concert that night, The Greek was not only my father’s favorite place to be, but mine too.
My mom was not into music like my dad was; she preferred clothes to concerts. She taught me to sew, and together we made a quilt with the concert t-shirts I outgrew. Between my father and I, we collected over two hundred pieces of chronicled music history.
Trying to figure out what I wanted to be when I grew up was always puzzling. I was torn between my father’s love for music, my mother’s love for fashion, and my love for capturing images of all things beautiful. I thought maybe I’d have a music career or go to the New York School of Fashion and Design like my mother had. Whichever career path I chose needed to lead me toward being able to take pictures. Maybe someday I’d create my own dream job that blended all three!
OUT OF MY HEAD
You’re always in my head
Maybe it’s the way you smile at me
Maybe it’s the way you laugh with me
Maybe it’s that we’ve known each other so long
Thoughts of you are always in my head.
October 2006…
Walking through the greek-lettered doors of Kappa Sigma, I felt like I’d just stepped onto a movie set. It was Halloween, everyone was wearing costumes, holding red Solo cups, and dancing . . . well, not everyone. I looked twice to be certain, but sure as shit, there was a large, dark-blue ice luge in the center of the living room. The guy at the bottom of the channel was my boyfriend, Ben, and the person in line behind him was my best friend, Aerie.
I didn’t go to a lot of fraternity parties, and looking at the two of them under the almost kid-sized slide, I now knew why.
Frowning at the sight of the two drunken idiots who had been on the receiving end of the ice luge a few too many times, I headed toward the kitchen to grab a beer. As I crossed back into the living room, I could see Ben sucking on a lime and squinting his eyes with his nose scrunched as he vigorously moved his head from side to side. He was making a vain attempt to relieve the potent impact of the countless shots he had just let flow freely down his throat. While shaking my head in amusement at him, I passed by a couple playing beer pong and giggled. If the state of the girl’s condition was any indication of her skill level, the guy was obviously a much better player.
Noticing me, Ben shot me a wicked smirk and crooked his index finger, gesturing me toward him. He strode a few steps closer; his gaze holding mine as the crowd cleared the way.
Standing face to face, I could see that his forget-me-not blue eyes were slightly hooded, allowing me only a glimpse of his dilated pupils. His sly grin was still present, which alerted me to his somewhat coherent state of mind.
Raising an eyebrow, I pointed to the dark-blue ice sculpture. “Hey, how many times did you hit that?”