I cried several times during the concert in Denver last weekend, out of happiness.
The thing about the last two or three years of my life is that there's been a lot of pain in it. Life is not always pretty.
I made it a point to look at everyone around me during the show last weekend. I watched people's faces when Eric Church, or one of his guitar players, came near us. The look on everyone's faces was a look of pure love.
I looked around this big, dark room full of lovely people, and I thought that it's nice to know that a beautiful moment can come from such a painful time in my life.
If you don't know this about me, here's a little synopsis of my life: I should have someone to share my life with, but I don't. Until the day that day happens, I do things alone. I'm not a person who will stay home just because I have no one to go to a concert with.
Every single person in Denver told me I was amazing for going to concerts alone. I was amazed at how well I was treated.
That's the cool thing about this particular fanbase...we're all a bunch of weirdos who love each other.
To make a long story short, I had a pit ticket for the show, and I got in line early to get a good seat. This introvert had no intention of being outgoing that day, and I just wanted to keep to myself until the show started.
That plan lasted about two seconds with the crowd in front of me.
"Short girl. Hey, short girl. Why are you not talking? Come over here and talk to us."
I heard them talking about a few things, so I brought those things up. It turns out, this crowd was kind of cool. They figured out that although I'm not from Colorado, I can speak Colorado pretty well.
My best friend lived in Denver for a while. I've been to Nugget and Broncos games. I have family in the mountains. I grew up camping in Colorado.
I impressed the group of people around me. I can talk the Colorado talk and walk the Colorado walk.
We moved on to talking about other topics. They wanted to know how long I'd been a fan and how many shows I've been to.
I am not an OG fan (original fan). I came around in 2015. I'm a late bloomer. I fessed up to how many concerts I've been to (11 in four years), and I heard a guy talk towards the front of the line.
"Guys, she's been to 11 concerts in four years?" he said. "She's doing pretty good."
He continued: "I think she might be one of us. I think we should adopt her."
It turns out that the people who were waiting outside in the pit line, hours before the show started, are the fans that have been there since the beginning of Eric Church's career.
Before each of his concerts in Denver, they have a tradition. They get together, drink a bunch of beer, listen to music outside the venue, and enjoy each other before each Eric Church concert in their city.
I got to hear stories from way back in the beginning, which is pretty cool. I heard stories from the Grizzly Rose days, a bar he used to play before he had a wild amount of success.
Those original fans are the coolest people I've ever met.
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For reasons I won't get into, I got separated from my friend group as we got inside the arena. I was maybe 30 people behind my people in line, as we waited for the doors to the stage area to be opened.
I was kind of mad about being so far back in line, but figured I could still get a good spot by the stage. I was playing on my phone, not paying attention to anything.
A few minutes later, I thought I heard my name. I looked up, away from my phone, and I heard my name over and over.
When I realized what was happening, my heart melted into a big pile of goo all over my adorable shoes.
My friend group at the front of the line realized I wasn't with them. They were looking for me. They told the people behind them to look for me, who told the people behind them, who told the people behind them.
I could hear what they were saying, too.
"Where's Monica from Kansas? She drove all the way here, from Kansas. She's alone. She doesn't have anyone, so we adopted her. She's one of us. She's our family. Someone find her. We lost Monica from Kansas."
And then: "Where is Monica from Kansas? Where did she go? Someone find Monica from Kansas. She's one of us. She's short! She's this tall."
Guys, I don't mean to brag, but for a few minutes in downtown Denver at the Pepsi Center*, I had a group of friends looking for me.
That is the weirdest feeling in the world.
I almost cried.
The guy in front of me passed along the information, and when he got to the point of saying "she's short," he put his hand up, horizontal, as if taking someone's height, to my head.
My friend group passed along my height to the people behind them, and the description of my height stayed surprisingly accurate as it traveled through the line of people.
"You're Monica from Kansas, aren't you?" the guy in front of me said.
Guilty, sir.
And then the most miraculous thing happened. It was like Moses parting the Red Sea, because the 30 people between myself and my friend group each moved over to the side.
I had a perfect line of sight between the rows of people, standing to either side, and what I saw at the end of the tunnel was the most beautiful thing ever.
There was my friend group, the ones I spent hours with outside, and they were looking for me.
"Monica from Kansas," they said. "Get up here."
I told them I couldn't cut. I had no intention of cutting in front of people. Everyone in line had a different opinion, though.
They said: "Monica from Kansas, go be with your friends."
So Monica from Kansas bypassed about 30 people in line and got to go hang out with her friends.
It was the best day ever.
---
Because of reasons, most of my friend group had tickets to the other pit (there are two pit areas this tour). The ones who were in my pit went immediately went to the other side of the stage.
Here's the thing about Monica from Kansas: She's short.
So short, in fact, that if anyone is standing in front of me, I can't see anything.
My friend group from across the stage wanted me to come over. But they were already 3-4 people deep in front of the stage, and if I stood in back with them, the only thing I would have seen is someone's back.
No bueno, friend group.
I had the perfect spot in the front row on the other side of the stage. I kept my spot, and made friends with the group of people around me.
The friend group across the stage hollered at me until the concert started.
"Monica from Kansas!"
"Monica!"
"Kansas!"
"Monica from Kansas!"
We waved to each other. We even air high-fived each other.
I don't have a huge friend group. I've never gone to an Eric Church concert with friends. But for one night, in downtown Denver, I had a group of friends.
That night was probably the best night of my life.
It was the best day of my life.
I heard someone behind me ask: "Who the hell Monica from Kansas?"
When I was standing in line outside the venue, someone answered that question to another person who asked.
"She's a big deal. She has Chris LeDoux's autograph."**
For that one night, and probably the one night only, Monica from Kansas was a pretty big deal.
Also, I don't understand why being short*** is a personality trait, but apparently it is.
Stay tuned for more posts about the actual concert. I just wanted to write this because Monica from Kansas is best thing that's ever happened to me.
There's so much love and happiness in the room that it's unreal.
It's magical.
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*I know it's not called the Pepsi Center anymore, but in my heart, that place will always be the Pepsi Center.
**While waiting for the show outside the venue, we started talking about who had the most famous person's autograph. Everyone said Eric Church. While I do have his autograph, I one-upped everyone. I have Chris LeDoux's autograph, and he wrote my name on it. I was six. That story impressed this group of people. :)
*** I'm 5'3
