The sights were interesting and all, but I think I mentioned that Nick and I were there for a specific purpose. We arrived on a Thursday, and I was going to see a legendary musician whose music has touched me my entire life on Friday. Nick gave me a hard time all day because I was so gosh darn chirpy. He pretended to sleep when we were supposed to be leaving for the Paul McCartney concert, but my excitement was not to be dampened:



I am relatively certain that I had enough enthusiasm to cover us both.

When I packed for the trip, I admit that I did waffle on what to wear to the concert. I mean, if he saw me, I'd want him to be decently charmed. I finally decided on an old dress of mine with a small pink leopard print. Girly refinement with wild instincts: just the message I wanted to send! If I ran into Paul McCartney that night, he was going to fall in love with me. (I didn't.)

Due to a bit of a mix up, Nick did not bring the little camera to the arena. That was a bit sad, but I don't think that pictures could have truly captured my emotions or properly preserve the memories anyway. I do have a couple grainy cell phone images (compliments of Nick's BlackBerry) taken in the arena before the concert when I was beside myself with nerves and excitement.



Guys, it was magic. My heart just started beating a little faster thinking of how to describe the experience with words. There was a commotion on the floor moments before the concert was to begin. We weren't sure what was happening, then we realized that Yoko Ono, Sean Lennon, Olivia Harrison and George Martin were in attendance. The commotion started when they took their seats, and the commotion absolutely erupted when Macca took the stage.

I can't even tell you what song he started with because I was stunned. I know it was a song that I knew very well and knew every nuance of the recording. I know it was song that was covered in the hours of Beatles documentaries I have seen throughout my life. It was difficult to connect that the timeless sound I've known for so long was being created just ahead. I felt Nick's eyes on me, looking for a reaction—I couldn't snap out of it.

It was sometime during the second song ("Junior's Farm") that I noticed myself singing along and moving my feet to the beat. I laughed. I laughed for several moments. I think I went a little crazy because—DUH!—PAUL MCCARTNEY WAS RIGHT THERE. I glanced back to Nick and noticed his smug expression, so proud of himself for getting me to that place of carefree elation.

I wasn't thinking of work, or hospitals, or futures…for once, I was completely invested in savoring the now. The tiredness (and crankiness) that had plagued me the night before was non-existent as I lost myself in the music and the anecdotes.

I was expecting to be wowed by the great Paul McCartney songs, but I got more than I bargained for. He led the audience through the hook on John's "Give Peace a Chance" as we sang it over and over again. Cameras panned the audience, and large screens behind the stage showed Yoko and Sean waving their arms and singing along. I just couldn't believe that I was there.

After the concert, including two encores, the arena emptied and we were caught in a wave of people who seemed to be floating through the passageways. Everyone seemed to vibrate with this crazy energy. It was a feeling of unity with perfect strangers (and Nick, who is perfectly strange). Suddenly, the tightly packed crowd began singing, "Naa na na, na-na na na, na-na na na, hey Jude!" I'm usually not a fan of crowds, but I sure liked these people!

Beatles fans should totally rule the world.

The entire purpose for the trip was to see The Cute One. Even so, when the plane landed it was the first time I had ever been in the Pacific timezone much less Sin City. I am not a gambler (there's usually a dress or pair of shoes that I would rather throw my money at), but I wanted to take in other parts of Las Vegas while we were there. Shortly after checking in, we headed to New York, New York to find a place to eat a light dinner.



After learning the price of a fountain soda at a sandwich place, I made sure to take advantage of the free refills. I consumed Diet Pepsi until you could see it splashing in the whites of my eyes. I drank well past the point of comfort and barely left any room for my black bean burger—but by God, I was going to make 'em hurt on the fountain soda.

After dinner, we left to do some touristy stuff on the Las Vegas Strip. We caught the fountains at Bellagio…



…and the Mirage Volcano. We took video of that too, but I am not all that entertained by it, so I won't embed it here. We waited quite awhile for the show to start since it was on Nick's tidy little list of must-sees. As such, since we both had cameras, we ended up with a lot of shots outside the Mirage hotel. Most of them were deleted because they looked the exact same as the other 50. Oh, look! There's a duck! [click.] Oh, look! There's the same duck! [click.] Oh, look! There it is again! [click.] Boredom bites, but thankfully today's memory cards support that level of boredom.



The "volcano" was disappointing for me. I didn't see the draw, but then maybe we were just standing too far away from the center of the action to be drawn in. I was very tired by this point as well. On a normal night, we go to bed at 9:00 (early morning people). The time change threw me off, and I was mad that it was still so light outside when I was ready to crash. Still, Nick had one last thing to see that night since it was going to be our only time to sight-see.

My fatigue was making me very cranky because my body was still on Wisconsin time and thinking that it was past 10:00. I never sleep well the day before travel (mind too busy), so I was even crankier than usual. I didn't mortally wound Nick with my stabbing glares, but I wanted him to at least hurt a little. This is a conflict that we run into on every single vacation. Nick likes to fill every second with an activity. I myself enjoy a little feline laziness when I go on holiday. I usually return to work more exhausted than when I left because my time away was all GO-GO-GO-GO.

I knew that I would play along and go to his last item on the list because I always fold, but I wasn't going to go quietly. He hailed a taxi to take us to see the Fremont Street Experience.



If I had been in a nicer mood, I might have let him know how much I enjoyed seeing the light show. As it was, I had a point to make, so I remained taciturn as I snapped photos and thought to myself, "Wow…"

I've been in a bit of a foul mood since the Simon and Garfunkel concert fell through last year. I was ecstatic the day I bought tickets. After I got the confirmation email, I sat on the floor and cried. I was ridiculously excited…and equally crestfallen later when poor Art paralyzed his vocal cords and the tour was cancelled. Who knows if they will ever tour together again even if he gets his voice back (though I'm wont to believe that artistic temperaments that marred their partnership mellow with age—but I just don't know).

So, this time around, when Nick bought tickets to another concert, I held myself reserved. These aging musicians…you just never know.

I was at home getting ready to host a Lia Sophia party the next day. Another U.S. concert was announced for the current tour and tickets just went on sale according to the email he forwarded. I wasn't sure why he sent me the email since the concert announced was almost 2,000 miles away. He called me to chat. We carried on some inane chatter about the concert. He confessed that he was watching the tour schedule last year (while I was finishing up school). The tour never got close enough that we could attend one of the concerts without taking me away from schoolwork for a few days, so it was a no-go.

Paul McCartney was coming to Las Vegas on June 10th. Actually, Paul McCartney, Yoko Ono, Sean Lennon, Olivia Harrison, Dhani Harrison (who is the spitting image of his father), the fifth Beatle and his son (George and Giles Martin) were all in Las Vegas to celebrate the fifth anniversary of LOVE. Ringo was touring in Europe and unable to attend.

It was a neat idea, all of that winning DNA in the same place again.

It seems like we're always saving money for something. Last year it was the wedding and the vacation surrounding it. This year it is the reception we are holding next month. Next year I'm sure we'll be putting away money for Sophie's college fund. It's always something. I never considered that going to Las Vegas was a possibility.

We ended our phone conversation.

Minutes later, I nearly wet myself:Nick forwarded me another email. This time, it was confirmation of purchase for two tickets to see Paul McCartney live at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. I proceeded to freakout, crying and carrying on like a person who is very excited and doesn't have to worry about witnesses. Then I remembered Art Garfunkel and sobered.

I am sure Nick was mildly disappointed that I wasn't outside of my skin the two months leading up to the concert. I just didn't want to get my hopes up again. I couldn't get properly worked up until I knew for sure it was happening. By the time we boarded the plane headed toward Las Vegas, I was absolutely dazzled.

I have been a fan of the Beatles, and Paul McCartney in particular, nearly all my life. My father watched the Beatles perform on the Ed Sullivan show the day after his ninth birthday, and he was hooked for the rest of his life. I remember him singing, terribly, I Want to Hold Your Hand while he put the training wheels on my first bike. Every time a Beatles song played on the local "oldies" radio station, he turned the volume up to ear-piercing volume.

My mother used to sing to me at night, and one of the first songs I can remember her singing to me as I fell asleep was Ebony and Ivory. I remember my parents, young and in love, doing dishes together and singing the chorus to Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey, wiggling their hips, and laughing like school children. Happy memories, very happy.

Whether they knew what they were doing or not, they spawned an über fan. Even the idea of seeing Paul McCartney live was one of the greatest rushes of excitement I ever felt.

Well, it's here. The last book came out four years ago this month. The last half of the last movie comes out tonight. I have been trying really really hard not to reread the seventh book during my recovery. A movie will never live up to a book because it's impossible to capture the detail of a 700 page book in a two-hour movie (or even two two-hour movies, as the case may be). I am inevitably disappointed. So I make it a point not to see a movie adaptation unless I am a bit fuzzy on the details of the story. Then, and only then, I can be entertained.

I have seen the majority of the movies on opening night. I missed the first because I had not yet fallen into Harry's world. I was attending school at the University of Wisconsin at LaCrosse at the time, and I remember seeing the books in the on-campus bookstore. I thought they were only meant for children, and I remember being surprised that they were in a college bookstore. Then, prof. Poulton, my French Phonetics professor, giddily told us one Monday that the movie captured the essence of the story (and she acted like everyone there should know the story…oops). I accepted that if professors read the books and they were available in the university bookstore, then maybe they weren't just kid stuff.

I still didn't pick up the books until I was living with someone who had the set, but I was caught up by the time the second movie came out.

Harry's world blew me away. I was impressed by the completeness of the setting, the history, the lore, the prejudices, and the clear delineation of good versus evil. Moreover, the very adult themes wrapped within allegory were intriguing. The first four books were published when I began, and the wait for the fifth, sixth, and seventh books was excruciating. I wanted to know what happened to these characters so badly because they seemed real to me.

I did not pre-purchase tickets to the show tomorrow as I usually do. I wasn't sure if I would be able to sit through the movie much less the long line waiting to get into the theater for an opening day show of HP caliber. This week, I was bummed out because I thought I probably could make it through the waiting part, and I could definitely sit through the movie, but the tickets to the show I wanted were sold out.

Meanwhile, my husband, who isn't necessarily a Potter fan (but tolerates him well), heard an interesting snippet on the radio. In short, I am actually going to see the movie tonight—in less than three hours! I've never been to a pre-release showing, and I am ecstatic! I'm off to take a pain pill, and get ready to take some mental photographs due to camera complications (story for a later post). I will not be in costume as Nick had hoped, but maybe I'll see a few interesting attempts!