SamboraBlog

Giving ’80s glam rock a good name

Life Out Loud

Linda Boyne, editor@vailtrail.com
March 4, 2006

What can make eight grown women jump up and down and scream like little girls? The first step is to send them to Denver on a girl’s trip. The second is for one of the husbands to get their rooms at the JW Marriott comped. Third ingredient, shopping in Cherry Creek. Fourth, a fabulous meal at North that none of the women had to prepare or clean up after. Throw in a liberal flow of cocktails and one Bon Jovi concert and you have your answer.

You’re now thinking to yourself, “Bon Jovi? Really?” I know. That’s what I thought, too. I went straight to ’80s rock, big hair, and tight pants. “Bad Medicine,” “You Give Love a Bad Name,” other songs with Bad in the title. But our group’s instigator had infectious enthusiasm and only fabulous things to say about the band, their new album and their classic hits. So off we went on a Bon Jovi odyssey.

I shall withhold the names of my compatriots, to protect the reputations of these usually mild-mannered women, wives and mothers. These are women who are responsible and on the ball 24/7. This was an opportunity for a change of pace, to stay somewhere lovely and not make the bed, to let loose and to have the kind of conversations that make our husbands roll their eyes and leave the room.

The mood was spirited when we hit the mall that afternoon and afterward, we set off into an evening of fun. Our dinner started with a round of festive sparkling wine cocktails followed by great food.

Thankfully, our waiter had a sense of humor, which he needed to deal with eight wound-up women, especially when we paid our bill. After some serious high finance calculations, an array of credit cards and cash hit the table with specific instructions.
“Put $67 on each of these, $17 on this one, we need change for these two $100’s then bring us $20 back,” our designated banker told him.

Off to the concert! One girlfriend had thought ahead and presented each of us with a lighter. Awesome! Very retro. Once at the Pepsi Center, we debated the $45 concert T-shirt purchase and barely made it to our seat before Bon Jovi began.

There is something about the atmosphere of a concert that brings out the 20-year-old in me. It’s the energy in the air, the music flooding the arena, the lights flashing, the feeling of the bass pounding in my chest, the mass of humanity all sharing the same moment, the girlfriend next to me screaming in my ear. The band sounded amazing and the consensus was that Jon Bon Jovi is aging well and does not look 44, but the rest of the band has kind of let themselves go. Richie Sambora was looking a little jowly and the drummer had flabby arms. But it was a good show nonetheless.

The next morning, we all headed home with sore feet, hoarse voices and smiles on our faces. I’m sure I damaged my hearing from cranking the Bon Jovi CDs so loudly on the drive up the hill. It’s not just the concert that makes me love the music now, but the memories of the experience and my Bon Jovi Babes.