rachiez726570

I was running late, my flight was leaving in an hour; I had to get to the airport, FAST.   As always, a car trip with Mich Liebe, is a fiasco.  A chaotic, psychotic, hilarious, fiasco.  We take flight to the airport, zooming by the early morning traffic, waking the cows so to speak.  I was dropped at Terminal C.  “I’d like to check my bag” I say to the older man behind the counter.  “Where are you flying to?”  “Los Angeles” I Say.  “Your too late, you have to give us 40 minutes to put the bags on the plane.”  My heart sank, here I was, step one in a barrage of firsts and I’ve already messed up. 

This trip was a huge deal to me.  I had worked hard to save money so I could fly to California, to see my favorite band play their first show in the USA ever.  I had endured so much stress to get to this point.  I had babysitters flake out, come back, rearrange the plan.  I’d had to go to my Tattoo shop to pick up a copy of the copy of my Passport, which I had lost at such an opportune moment.  I had washed a load of clothes with an entire package of gum in the back pocket of my jeans.  I’d withstood ridicule from my parents for a lack of prioritizing.  And here I was, looking at DFW airport, waiting for this man to tell me he was kidding.

“There’s a later flight.  We could put your bag on it.”  He says hopefully.  “Sure!” I say.  “It leaves a half an hour after your flight.”  He says with a pout as thought this will hinder my optimism. “ALL RIGHT!” I say, tossing my bag onto the counter with more oomph than I had meant to allow.

I went to the security line, where MichLiebe ran back in to wish me luck, I had intended to show her Tokio’s newest video, “Don’t Jump”, which was “Spring Nicht” our first favorite song, in English.  She was as big a fan as I, I was going, she was not.   But, no boarding pass meant one last excited hug over the security line.   “I’ll call you during “Spring Nicht” or “Durch Den Monsun” depending which one they play” I say, trying to justify what I felt to be betrayal.  “All right!!” she says with such excitement, playing the smile even though the power steering in her car had quit working while she was parking.  “ICH LIEBE DICH FUR IMMER!!! AUF WEIDER SEHEN!!!” I love you forever!!! Good bye!!!  I yell as I walk toward the metal detector.

“Take off your shoes and jacket, put them in a bin” a bored security guard says.  I do so.  “Take your computer out of your bag please.”  My bag came back out of the X-ray Machine.  I take out my laptop and run to get another bin.  “I’m sorry” I say “I’m new at this”.  I hadn’t flown since 2004.  I sit in the terminal, wishing I had someone to talk to.  Or that perhaps my anxiety and excitement would yield long enough for me to eat something.  But these thoughts were futile, seeing as I hadn’t eaten much in the last three days due to my soul, trying to escape my skin.  So the thought of eating now, in the airport, was just silly. 

“Now boarding flight 2401 to Los Angeles” squeaks the excited AA worker.  “I’ll be accepting Valentines all day today, from all you fine people.  We would like to thank you again for flying with us today.”  I always enjoyed the compliments flight staff had to offer, it was like I had traveled back to the 70’s when flying gave you celebrity status and all the stewardess’ were portrayed as airhead hippies.  I walked on to the plane, feeling the excitement in the cabin, echoing off all the passengers whether they liked it or not.  I took my seat in 40 D near the back of the plane, in the isle.  Just as I thought about how much I dislike the isle, a flight attendant tells a man in front of me that he could move about as he wishes, seeing as the flight was pretty empty.  An odd thought considering I had rushed to buy my ticket online because they only had ONE seat available.  I snagged this opportunity and moved across the aisle.  “Do you mind if I sit next to the window?”  I ask the man sitting in the row.  “Not at all!” he responds, jumping up to make room for me to squeeze by.  He was a classic rock kind of man.  Wearing his hair down by his chin with a small bit of mustache, he reminded me of Billy Crudup in “Almost Famous”.  “Ever been to California?”  He says.  “No I haven’t, I’ve always wanted to though, how about you?”   “I fly out there every two weeks, go see my wife and kids; if I didn’t have my business here I’d move out there with them.”    This was sweet I thought.   The next thing I knew, we were having one of those awesomely memorable flight discussions, I went from talking on and on about Tokio Hotel, while letting him have a listen, to discussing religion, and Benazir Bhutto.  The flight in was a tad bumpy as we flew through some angry clouds, we had to go out over the Pacific Ocean to land facing East, something about some strange wind.  As a result I watched the Coastline appear in awe, mountains and beaches.  “There’s Venice Beach!  See the canal!”  ‘Billy Crudup’ said.  I was amazed.  Already I was in love with California, and all I’d done was fly over it.   The man wished me luck as I got off the plane, he’d given me his son’s business card, with his name, and the MySpace page where I could find his son’s band.   I was sad to see him go, but I had to go wait another half an hour for my luggage.

I had called everyone under the sun by the time my luggage arrived.

“Hey!... YEAH I’m in California….. I KNOW, I’m so excited…. I saw Venice beach on the way in, it was so cool!... Yeah I will…. All right… yeah I’ll call you after the concert and tell you how it went. …. Yeah I’ll tell Jenn you said ‘Hi’ … ok BYE!”

“Hey Jenn!! “  I said, anxious to see my Deathbuddy for the first time in a year and a half.  “Hey!” she responds over the ancient cell phone I’d snagged from my mother.  “Were just circling the airport because they won’t let us park, but we’ll be back around in just a minute; I’m driving a silver car.”  My heart leaped with excitement as I saw Jenn’s Honda pull closer, I stuck out my thumb for a ride, I watched as her face lit up and she pointed me out to her boyfriend whom I’d only seen pictures of, in all his John Lennon glory.  His name was Chris; he shook my hand, took my bag for me, put it in the trunk and climbed into the back seat.  “You really don’t have to do that, I don’t mind sitting in the back.”  He nodded in a way that told me he didn’t mind it.  I hugged Jenn as I lugged my bag into the front seat.  “OK!” she says “I’ve made a whole list of stuff were going to do!”  As she pulls out a piece of notebook paper titled “Racheal’s trip” I realize I’m not burdening her quite so much as I thought by staying with her.

And then we were off, I was amazed by the fact that the streets really are lined with palm trees, and then we were stopped.  “Welcome to the 405!” Jenn said.  I had heard terrible things about LA traffic.  I just assumed it would be like Dallas rush hour traffic.  I thought wrong.  LA traffic was a whole different breed; I could relate it to London better.  People everywhere, swerving in and out of lanes, laying on the horn.  “We’re going to go to Banter’s, you’re going to love it! There’s this mural on the wall about Jewish people and the food is so good!  They have the best French fries and homemade pickles.”   A half an hour goes by, not too bad by LA standards, and we’ve pulled into Banter’s.  The restaurant had a charming little bakery and delicatessen in the front, and a restaurant in the back.  They were right, the French fries were delicious, and the pickles as well.  While I wanted to experience the culture so to speak, I ended up ordering quesadillas.  They were delicious, but different, not like Mexican quesadillas more of a fresh deli style.   After Banters I was whisked off to an awesome Vintage shop called “Jet Rag”, where I landed an incredible pair of embroidered jeans for twenty five bucks.  Further we traveled on Jenn’s list of things to do.  We skimmed the walk of fame, hitting up jimmy Stewart, and Judy garland, two of my heroes.   On we traveled through the tourist traps of LA, places endured by Jenn and her native Californian boy friend, all for my amusement.   We landed at Amoeba music next, if you’ve never been, you should.  I would travel to Cali again just to go there.  An enormous warehouse of music, movies, counter culture, posters and zines.   All at awesome prices, you name it; they got it, Indie music you’ve never heard of, and a clearance isle that rivals Ikea’s.  It was here I purchased Eisley’s “Room Noises” a C.D. my heart had pined for, for quite some time.  And about 6 C.D.s I had never heard of.  At 2 bucks a pop, why not? I spent 26 dollars on 7 C.D.s, not too shabby!   It was quite the way to burn though a day.   Finally we arrived at Jenn’s apartment, a marvel in its own.  This modest one bedroom flat, was decked out to the teeth, including a bed arranged by Chris, he referred to it as the “Captains quarters in a pirate ship” he couldn’t of been more dead accurate.  Pillows, on top of pillows, a captain’s hat at the head board made of pirate flags, loot, and booty strung about, along with boots, a coat and a sword.  When I sat my things down, I was greeted by a strange stuffed animal on a telephone book, made of what looked like a couch pillow and a melted down doll, I asked “what… is that????”  jenn responded light heartedly “Oh, that?  That’s just sassafrass, some kid’s art project, they were throwing her away.”   I laughed, good ol’ Jenn, with her spiffilicious apartment full of Lord of the Rings, Johnny Depp, John Lennon and Jarvis Cocker gear.

            The next morning I arose refreshed although my excitement had woken me every 2 hours of my 6 hour rest.  I ambled into a brightly light bathroom, via a window facing the sun.  I breathed deep.  THIS was waking up, anxious excited happy for the day. 

            After the blur of getting ready, and changing clothes 3 or 4 times, we headed out, to the 101, the Pacific Ocean, Santa Monica and eventually, Tokio Hotel.   As we rounded the bend leaving Oxnard I was greeted by a beautifully indigo ocean.  I was taken with this marvel, I had only seen the Gulf of Mexico up close, and anyone who’s been will tell you, it’s disgusting, brown, filled with tar, but this ocean, THE PACIFIC Ocean, was gorgeous.  I said “WOW, blue oceans actually exist! They aren’t just a marketing ploy!”

            We dined at a little breakfast place named “Jinkies” just as Velma said it.  We broke our fast with a variety of things, mine being a steak salad that filled me faster than I would have liked.  I called my mother to fill her in, all the while Jenn is trying to tell me something, something exciting, so I tell my mother, “I have to go, I’ll call you later”  after we hung up, Jenn says, somewhat muffled “There’s a celebrity here!”  I was like… “What??” she says “He’s right behind you!  It’s Data, from “star trek”!!!”  Nonchalantly, I turn my head, and sure enough, there he was, reading his paper.  Data.   After we left Jinkies, We walked through the 3^rd street promenade, discovering that Santa Monica has a French Connection, which I thought had been a strictly European deal.  Lastly we traveled to the Pier.  I ran down the stairs, fighting the wind, I bolted to the shore.  Off with my shoes, off with my bag, up rolled my pants, I zipped up my sweater and was in the water.  The frigid water  powered over my feet, up to my calves, I felt pure adrenaline skipping over the skim, feeling my hair, beat against my back.  Her she was in all her magnificence, the Pacific, the Manifest Destiny of our country, the edge of my mother land, and I was standing in it.  I wanted to shout out to Hawaii, I wanted to dive in.  But, I restrained my spirit, and we walked back up to the promenade, slightly more light hearted, satisfied. 

            It was now nearly 4, I needed to be at the club soon, the show began at eight, but according to my friends in line, there were already more people than they knew what to do with.  Also there was a rumor floating around that the band would be arriving at 4.  So out we set, for Sunset Boulevard.  Little did we know, this 15 mile trek would take us 2 and a half hours. 

            My excitement would build, wane, build, and wane by the time we reached LA, I was an emotional roller coaster, ready to scream, ready to cry, ready to jump out of a car.  Then I saw it, The Roxy, just like the pictures, people crowded outside, excitement leaking from the streets themselves.  There I met up with my fellow tokio-holics, it was there we stood for another 2 hours, during which German television interviewed us, we sang obnoxiously out of key songs, and marveled as the girl in front of us, won the chance to hang out with the band after the show.  I envied her, I hated her, I loved her, I wanted to be her.

            At last we were in the club, wiggling and muscling our way into crevices of the pit, fighting for the chance to lock eyes with any of the four boys that made up Tokio hotel, closer than comfort would allow, we became to each other, bonding over our passion for the music, pushing when pushed, discussing our favorite song/language/band member.  “OHH Tom is just perfect! “ Says the blonde to my left.  “NO! Bill is so much better!” says Sarah, to my right, “Your both wrong, Gustav is boss” says Dylan behind me.  We all look at each other “poor Georg!”  We say in unison, among the “Tokio Hotel!  Tokio Hotel” chants that spurred up and disappeared.  Our anxiety was peaking as the rifts or “ready set go!” played and the Curtain opened.  Suddenly the pit was unlike an I had ever seen, Violent, hair pulling, hitting, biting, shoving, pushing your camera in front of the next, resting your arms on the person’s shoulders to your front, and Bill singing to us all, egging us on, playing with the camera, bringing those scandalous eyes over the insane crowd of American girls who never thought he could exist outside the Computer.  The show went as beautifully as could be expected, we sang along, basically muting Bill, whose German accent was enough to turn the entirety of we screaming fans into blubbering idiots.  As they started playing “Monsoon” I thought of Mich Liebe and reached for my phone to call her during the song.  It was gone, I thought perhaps I had felt something hit my leg earlier that night in the pit but I didn’t think my phone was gone.  No use looking for it now.  I exited the pit, as Bill’s voice was met with “boos” on the note that this was their last song.  “I am here” rang out over the speakers, as I fought back ward through the crowd. “Lemme out, thanks, Lemme out, thanks.”  I approached the merchandise counter, now vacant of the crazed frenzy that would surely wash over it shortly.  I purchased two shirts with the last of my monies.  I collected my drink that was paid for at the door, deciding to sip on water while attempting to smooth out my hair.  We cheered out “encore! Encore!”   And sure enough, a stool was run out onto the stage, and the crowd went wild.  As Tokio performed “rescue me” aka “rette mich”.  I could only have a feeling of satisfaction.  I watched from a far, now being able to actually hear them play over the screams and chants of the crowd, I realized we had done it, we had helped Tokio Hotel reach the USA, they were here, they were wonderful and they were psyched!  I hadn’t had any sudden reaction to seeing them, no crying, no incontrollable screaming, no risk of fainting only this wonderful sense  of accomplishment as the sweet heartfelt and mellow lyrics of “rescue me”  washed over me.  Then they did the best song of the night, “Durch Den Monsun.”  My favorite of Favorites, the song that started it all for them, got them out there, noticed.  Famous.  It was a glorious moment, I sang along in German smiling more than my face would prefer, it was then I was approached by a man.  “How do you know all the words??”  He asked me.  I was taken back a little bit; surely any hard core tokio fan knew both German and English lyrics.   I simply told him that I was a fan.  He asked me many more questions after this, only to my bewilderment; I had no Idea who this guy was.  “How did you find out about them?”  “Why did you come all the way to California to see them?” “Are you into any other international bands?”  I answered each of these to the best of my abilities, and that’s when I was blown away.  “My name is Tom” he said “I’m from Interscope records, we just signed them for the USA” my jaw dropped.  “Are you serious??” I said, “That’s so great!!  That’s just so wonderful for them!”  He gave me his card, mentioned internships for Interscope, and then asked if I would like to meet some of his friends.  I shook hands and heard names, all the while, Tom explaining I have come all the way from Texas stating that I was “a true fan”. I was greeted with smiles all around, questions over and over, how had I found out about them?  “Their international sales were up, like crazy up” said one woman.  I continued answering questions while people filtered passed us to exit the club.  Suddenly, a man was yelling “HEY LETS GO!”  I was thinking “oop this is it, time to go hope my cell wasn’t obliterated and call Jenn.”  But Tom turned to me and said “let’s go!”  I said “Where??”  Somewhat confused… no way this was happening, “to the after party!”  Yup it was.  “I snagged up a bracelet from a smiling man and trailed the group up the guarded stairs.  My mind swam.  “No way is this happening…. I’m lucky but I’m not that lucky.  Oh my good god… this is actually happening” I thought to myself.  I kept my cool, I hadn’t gone gushy yet I wasn’t about to start.  I sat down next to a woman who introduces herself as Lisa I think.  I introduced myself and she said “OH! You’re the one from Dallas!!! I heard Tom talking about you!”  It was extremely surreal, talking to all these record company members, about music, about Tokio Hotel, about my passion.  They were all ears.  Tom kept saying “how does that even happen?  I mean now you’re going to meet them!”  Magically a beer appeared in front of me, behind it was Tom, “let me buy you a drink” he said.  I smiled and just went with it.  We waited around 40 minutes, and then there was a rush on the door.  I couldn’t see, and I didn’t care.  I stayed seated, asking Tom if that was them.  “Yeah! They’ll make their way around, introduce themselves.” He said.  So I sat and waited and the crowd surged back and forth.  I asked Tom “Are they sitting down yet?  Do you know?”  “Naw” He said “I can’t tell” I peak to my left and sitting right next to me was Tom Kaulitz.  I gasped and my hand flew over my mouth.  They seemed to vivid, so crisp, sitting there like normal people, Bill and Tom talking between themselves, Bill wearing a hat over his downed hair and refreshed make-up, Georg talking to all the fan girls that rushed the table.  Each of them framed so well in my mind, now illuminated coolly against the blue neon lights and then brightened by the flashes on the cameras that clicked.  I couldn’t resist. I got up, my poster in my back pocket.  The flash on the camera stopped working.  My heart sank…”tom… my camera isn’t working!”  I said, hoping against all hope he could help me.  “I’ll have someone get a pic of you guys” I stood up and attempted to  squeeze in no sooner had I done that, they began to exit the table, Toby asking that we step back.  I wanted to cry as they left, wanted to deny I had been so close.  I watched as the boys left the room, a flurry of confusion following behind them.  “Will they be back?” I asked.  “I don’t know, someone told them they needed to leave so they left.” Responded Tom.   I sat back down to my beer and tee shirts, counting my blessings that any of this had even happened.  I decided now that it was very late, I needed to find my phone and tell Jenn what was going on, I needed to call Mich Liebe and beg forgiveness for not being able to call.  I excused myself, assuring them that I would be back.  I stepped down the stairs and couldn’t get into the club portion of the Roxy.  I asked the guard, “Can you let me in?  I lost my cell phone” he said he couldn’t help me but assured me that I would be allowed back upstairs with my wristband.  I opened the door and practically fell into Chris and Jenn’s laps.

            As I explained the course of events I begged them to come upstairs with me, and then we would worry about the phone, knowing full and well that the phone had probably been smashed to pieces under the feet of psychotic Tokio fans.  This concern was solidified that it had gone straight to voice mail when called upon.  I introduced Chris and jenn to Tom, and asked if he was certain they were gone.  “Yeah, I’m sorry!  You got so close this time, who knows what will happen next time!”  He said.  I asked if he knew why they had left “Interscope just signed em’ the lead guy invited them to have dinner at his house.” He said with an all knowing tone.  I thanked him very much for the wonderful opportunity.  It had been a great night!

            When I returned to the car, jenn told me she had picked me up some little gifts.  I tube of chapstick and a pen with a penis on top from Hustler.  I laughed, “I’ll never be able to use this pen,if I put it in my mouth while writing, it could be disastrous.”  Jenn drove us home, through the insanity that is LA on a Friday night, finally feeling relieved when we reached the 101.  We were back at the Apartment in an Hour, incredible!   We dined on the best salt and vinegar chips I’ve ever had, tucked into Jenn’s ginormous bed, watching funny videos on YouTube and watching time slip on by. 

            When I finally excused my self for bed, I was overcome with this strange excitement.  “I’ve done it!” I thought to myself “Ive come to California, Ive stayed with my Deathbuddy, I’ve seen the Pacific Ocean, I found the Roxy…. I saw Tokio Hotel in Concert, in my country, I saw the members less than 2 feet from me, they had smiled at me. “  This wave of Euphoria led directly to sleep, deep sleep the kind that finds you waking up in the same position you fell asleep in.  Good sleep.  I awoke at eleven am, as Jenn came home from working out, I ambled to the bathroom to brush my teeth, feeling rather nasty, regretting I had collapsed in bed rather than brushing them the night before.  Then came the battle of the day “In and Out or Chipotle’?” asked Jenn.  “I love Chipotle’ I could live off it.  But I ve heard really great things about In and Out.”   Jenn laughed “well they’re both cheap enough, we’ll just do both” but as Chipotle’ tends to do, we were filled to the brim for the day from those magically delicious burritos.  The rest of my last day was spent playing guitar hero, watching “night of the Comet” and quoting the “Power Thirst” video.  We retired early, my flight left at 6:30 the following morning and security at LAX was tight.  We would be up at 2:30 to get ready and leave at 3:00.

            My stomach hurt.  Alot.  More than the normal aches that comes with waking up too early.  I tried to fix up the living room as best as I could, but with no basis of comparison, I had no idea where anything went.   As we exited the apartment, I looked back, saying goodbye to Johnny Depp, and my dear Sassafrass.  We three ran to the car with all my loot, wrapped in blankets and coats against the Chilly California morning.  My stomach ached the entire way to the airport, which has blurred a bit through exhaustion.  I know we were pulled over at one point for Jenn speeding, she took it quite well, pulling over, then getting off the free way when the highway patrol man told her to.  As we attempted to pull into a gas station, the patrol man said “Stop” on his loud speaker.  We stopped.  We had been pulled over for drunk driving.  We laughed to ourselves as the officer let Jenn off with a warning. As we drove through Las Angeles, I silently glanced my goodbyes to the palm lined streets while listening to “Do you Realize?” by The Flaming Lips.  When we pulled into LAX, I realized that when I woke up tomorrow, Deathbuddy wouldn’t be other room, and while I was anxious to get home, I didn’t really want to leave.  I bade goodbye to them, thanking them both for the wonderful time, adding emphatically that they needed to come visit and that I would send pictures.   I was stopped my security on the way in, on the basis that I had inadequate ID.  I didn’t sweat it this time.  “Whatever” I thought.  I walked in socks to the area behind a temporary wall, joining a man about my age sitting, shoeless as well.  “You got it too eh?”  He said to me “yeah” I said back exasperated.  It was then he was told he could go.  As he put on his shoes he said “don’t worry, they always take the pretty ones”   I smiled at him, he was half right, he wasn’t pretty, he was gorgeous.  After going through the motions of being searched and scanned, all the while “Do You Realize?” repeating in my head, I was allowed to go.  As I walked through the terminal, I ran into the beautiful guy, “Ah” he said “you made it!”  I smiled.  Just the ego boost I could use at 4:30 in the morning on 3 hours of sleep.

Upon arriving home, I pelted family with all of my fun, telling them with a renewed excitement about my adventures in Cali a go-go.  After all was said and done, my father looked confused at my mother and said "Just what in the hell does über mean??"