Our McCartney Weekend

By

J.P. Nix

          “Are you off August 15^th,” Nancy asked me.  She had called me at the office, something she rarely does.  “It’s a Saturday.”

          “I don’t know,” I replied.  “Let me check my schedule.”

          I fumbled with my briefcase, retrieved my work schedule for the next 2 months.  Being on the schedule that I’m on now, being off on weekends are a hit and miss.  One weekend, I’ll be off on Saturday, and the next weekend, Sunday will be my off day.  I consulted my calendar, confirmed it and told Nancy that I was indeed off on August 15^th.”

          “Paul McCartney is coming to Atlanta,” she said.

          “He is?  Can we go?  When do tickets go on sale?”

          “Yes.  Yes.  And I don’t know,” she laughed.  “You’ll have to research that yourself.”

          And so to cut to the chase, I found out when they would be on sale, made myself a few reminders, some hand written, and set some popup reminders on my p.c. at work and at home. 

The day finally came, and at the designated time set by Ticket Master for McCartney’s ticket sales, I sat at my computer waiting a few minutes before they went on sale.  Credit card positioned to the left of the keyboard, easy for viewing to key the 16 digit number as fast as I could to get my tickets before they sold out like they did 20 years ago in 1989 and we missed our chance to the see the former Beatle on his world tour.  I was 22 then.  Nancy and I waited in line battling freezing temps only to be told that tickets had sold out about 20 people ahead of us.   And every time he had been to Atlanta since, either we didn’t have the money for the tickets, or we found out too late to purchase tickets.  Not so this time.

I sat in front of my computer a few minutes before 10:00 a.m...  I watched as the seconds ticket slowly by.  I was the only one home at the time. While I watched the clock’s second hand tick tock its way to 10, I poised myself ready for action.  Finally the time arrived!  I had already logged on with my Ticket Master id.  A few clicks later and our tickets were purchased. 

It was official now, we were McCartney concert bound.  But there would be one more detail that would be made.

Anyone who has ever been to midtown in Atlanta knows that parking is very limited.  On the venue’s website, it recommended a hotel that was a ½ mile from the park. 

“That would be perfect,” I said to myself. 

After confirming with Nancy with plans to stay in midtown, I called the W Hotel and booked a room for Friday night, the day before McCartney was scheduled.  The reason I did this was because I thought the concert was in the afternoon at 4:00 p.m.  

As the weeks went by, slowly drudging toward the concert’s date, I did a search on the internet and found his set list for the 2009 tour and made a CD compilation of the songs to listen to in the car, home and work.

The weeks passed slowly, the days dragged on forever, but then one morning I woke up and it was Friday August 14^th.  After a quick morning detour and a lunch around noon, the GPS directed our car down to the W in Midtown.

 Being the afternoon on Friday and with all that was going on in Atlanta that particular weekend, it was as if 5 o’clock came 4 hours early.  Traffic was horrendous!  Cars moved up and down the streets, people walked up and down the sidewalks, cyclists pedaled as fast and careful as they could through all the traffic both on the streets and the sidewalks.  

“Turn!” Nancy yelled at the entrance.

“The light is red.”

“But you’re blocking traffic in both directions.  Turn!”

A bit of a maneuver, but I did pass through the red light, upwards to the front of the hotel. And just for the information of the reader, I don’t think I was blocking traffic in both directions.  No horns blew, nobody yelled at me, and I didn’t get a ticket.  So maybe, just maybe I was blocking traffic.  One can never be certain of these things.

Once we got to our room, we unpacked, checked out the stocked refrigerator and the price list…. They even had a baseball cap with the name of the hotel on it we could have purchased.  Of course all of it was a little pricey.  We were in Atlanta at an upscale hotel, so of course things were going to be pricey, but I didn’t care.  McCartney was in town, nothing else mattered.

“Call the High (Museum), and find out what time they close,” Nancy said.

Finding the number on the hotel’s visitor guide book on the desk table, I called and found they would close at 5:30.

          We unpacked and quickly took the short walk (maybe 2 blocks) to the museum.  The Monet exhibit would be in Atlanta only for 2 more weeks and I had promised Nancy we would go earlier in the year.  We both wanted to see the exhibit, and so it was great that our hotel was so close to the museum and to the park.

After seeing the Monet exhibit, and the Richard Misrach “On the Beach” exhibit, we headed over to the other High Museum (http://www.high.org/) building where the Louvre and the Masterpiece exhibit were displayed.

Next we walked back to our hotel, and called Dorsey (our son) to come have dinner with us, since we knew next to nothing about midtown and where to go to eat.  He told us it would be a couple of hours which was fine with us since we wanted to go for a swim and get cleaned up before going out.

By this time Dorsey picked us up, I was starving.  But instead of going straight to dinner, Nancy and Dorsey both wanted to go to Ikea.  If you’ve never been to an Ikea store, it is like a giant warehouse full of furniture and other things for the home.  More walking.  I was really getting tired and hungrier each minute.

While Dorsey and Nancy looked at tables and other things, I found myself something to lean up against to see if I could wait it out before the tiredness and hunger pains made me perish. 

                 It wasn’t long, although it seemed like forever, and we were downstairs going though checkout.          

               “Where do y’all want to eat?” Dorsey asked as he turned on to 16^th Street. 

               “Any place that has food”, I suggested.  “And lots of it.”

              “How about steak?” Nancy said. 

    Remember that this was Friday night in Atlanta and ever place we drove to, no parking was available, or the line to get in was to long.  We finally settled on Long Horns.  A good meal and I was feeling better.  Still tired, but I didn’t feel like my stomach was closing in on me.

            “Let’s go to Café Intermezzo (http://www.cafeintermezzo.com/) for dessert and coffee”, Dorsey said.  

    It was after 11:00 by the time we got there, but you wouldn’t know it.  The place was hopping with patrons.  Neithertheless we found a table, ordered coffee and dessert, and our evening was rounded out.  The apple pie was extremely light and fresh.  The ice-cream served with it was absolutely delicious.  Nancy had ordered the house blend coffee for us, while Dorsey ordered an espresso. 

When we got back to our hotel, Nancy suggested that we should get a room for Saturday night as well so we wouldn’t have to bother with driving back home after the concert. 

    “I’m sorry,” the front desk clerk said.  “As of now, we have no rooms available for Saturday.  But you might call in the morning.  We      might have a cancellation.”

     After relaying the news to Nancy, she said, “Dorsey said we should try the Four Seasons.  Its just up the    street so we would still be close to the park.”

     I called the Four Seasons reluctantly thinking that every hotel is probably booked for Saturday.  I was pleased when the clerk told they did in fact have a room.  Now we were set.  I know we would have to pack in the morning and move up the street to another hotel.   More trouble, more expense, and now more walking because the new hotel was farther from the park.  But who cares?  McCartney was in town.

             “Let’s go get a bucket of ice before we turn in.”

             “Can it wait till morning,” I said.  I had already taken off my shoes.

            “Come with me,” she said.  “And then we’ll turn in.”

  The ice machine was at the other end of the hall.  On the way back we passed two women in their early 20’s wearing high heels and dresses that fell to about mid thigh length.  They knocked on a door, and when it opened, both women smiled and said, “Its champagne time.”

          “Do you think their pros?” Nancy asked after they were inside and the door had closed. 

          “Huh?” I asked, my eyes half closed and burning with tiredness.

          “Do you think they charge by the hour?”

          “I don’t know,” I answered.  “But as tired as I am, I wouldn’t need a whole hour.”

Nancy rolled her eyes and smiled as we entered our room.  Sleep was not the best that night.  Was it the heavy dinner we had, or was it the coffee we had only an hour ago, or was it the bed we were sleeping in?  Could have been one of those, or it could have been a combination.  Regardless of what happened, sleep did not come easy.                   

The next morning we packed and moved to the Four Seasons which was up the street.  And where the W was trendy, the Four Seasons was classy.  We were really amazed with the difference in the two hotels although both had their highlights.  After a quick lunch in the hotel’s restaurant, we headed down to the park.  It was close to 2:00, and the gates were not opening until 4:00, but we had talk to several people who said they would be heading down to get in line.  So we thought we would go early as well.

          Much to our disappointment the walk down 14^th street and up 4 blocks to 10^th street was not the only battle that we would have.  The line to get in the park stretched what seemed like forever.  Everyone in the line was basically friendly sharing remembrances of the Beatles, Wings, and McCartney for the next 2 hours. 

          Finally 4:00 came and were able to get in.  We got something to eat and found a place to sit on our towels that we had brought with us.  And it was fine for a while.  Everyone around started off friendly enough, but as time passed more people came in the park and all of a sudden it wasn’t friendly anymore.  It was like ants crawling over each other. 

          I got my hand stepped on by a woman who showed no remorse for actions either because she was just rude, or because of the amount of alcohol she had consumed.  She was clearly drunk along with the other woman she was with.  People were getting more rude by the minute or anxious for the show to start. 

Finally at 7:15, the opening band The Script (http://www.thescriptmusic.com/ie/home/) came on stage.  They are from Dublin Ireland.  Solid band and a good sound.  I thought they had a unique sound and enjoyed their 45 minute set.  Even though the opening act was as good as they were, it didn’t prevent the ants from crawling or from my view of the stage being obstructed by those moving back and forth to find their place on the lawn.

I had heard from one of the fans sitting close to us that McCartney wouldn’t take the stage until 9:00 and that he would play almost 3 hours.  After sitting for 4 hours, what was one more?  But at 8:40, I heard a roar from the crowd, and then I looked up and saw McCartney and his band on stage.  Everyone stood.  No more movement from the crowd as we were in awe at the sound coming from the stage.

None of the records or videos I had heard and seen held a light to being there in person.  It was an amazing show!  McCartney was flawless in my opinion.  At 67 McCartney played songs from all eras of his career that is in its 4^th decade.  The band behind him was just as rehearsed as he was and played everything better sounding than the original recordings. 

McCartney’s Set List:

01. Drive my Car

02. Jet

03. Only mama knows

04. Flaming Pie

05. Got to get you into my life

06. Let me roll it/foxy lady

07. Highway

08. Long and winding road

09. My Love

10. Blackbird

11. Here today

12. Dance tonight

13. Calico skies

14. Mrs. Vanderbilt

15. Eleanor Rigby

16. Sing the Changes

17. Band on the run

18. Back in the USSR

19. I'm Down

20. Something

21. I've got a feeling

22. Paperback writer

23. A day in the life/give peace a chance

24. Let it be

25. Live and Let die

26. Hey Jude

1st encore

27. Daytripper

28. Lady Madonna

29. I saw her standing there

2nd encore

30. Yesterday

31. Helter Skelter

32. Get Back

33. Sgt Pepper's reprise/ The end

At one point it started raining, and in fashion McCartney commented on the heat in Atlanta, “A little rain will cool us off, won’t it?” And later a bra was thrown on the stage from the crowd.  After he had completed the song he was doing, he picked it up, held it so every could see and said, “A rain soaked bra?  Can’t imagine what kind of song I get out of that.”  The crowd laughed, then he said, “I don’t think it will fit me, but thanks just the same.”  He then threw it to the side and went back to business. 

It was an amazing show.

                   After the concert we returned to the hotel to shower and sleep.

                   “I liked to leave a wake up call,” I had called the front desk.

                   “Certainly Mr. Nix.  What time?”

                   “5:00.” It was already midnight.

                   “Ooh,” the desk clerk said.  “That’s early.”

                   “Tell me about it,” I said.  “But I got to work.”

                   “Certainly Mr. Nix,” she said.  “5:00 it is.  Would you like a second reminder call at 5:15?”

                   “Yes please.  That would be great.”

                   Approximately 5 and half hours later, I drove Nancy home, dropped off our luggage, and headed to work.  Tired, and with little sleep I worked my 12 hour shift, my head still swimming with the concert and everything that had happen to us over the past two days.  But I didn’t care, McCartney was in town.

The End