Oh No I Didn't!

The back of an angel.  (photo by me!)

So, 2 years ago, I was lucky enough to be invited to see Josh Groban in concert with my friend, Emma, and her mom. Dude, I love Josh Groban. He's probably the most "adult" singer that I listen to because I'm normally not into music that doesn't have some curve of angst in it (because it's totally not like I don't already have enough angst as it is). Anyway, when I found out that I was going to be seeing him I was like freaking out and preparing my acceptance speech to the spontaneous marriage proposal he would pull out of his pocket during the concert if our eyes should meet for a brief moment. Yeah, that is how much I love Josh Groban. Then again, who doesn't love Josh Groban? I mean, he totally kicks major ass in everything he does. You could probably say he really knows how to... RAISE things up. (Get it? Like, You Raise Me Up...like the song. Nevermind)

Okay. Back to my story. Damn. I'm ADHD right now.

So, we get to the BOK Center in Tulsa, and that's when I find out that we have freaking floor seats. Just FYI, in my adult life I have never ever ever had real floor seats to any concert, so this was a huge deal to me. Because everyone knows that most performers will travel through the crowd on the floor at some point during the show and that gives anyone an opportunity to touch the person they've just paid a ridiculous amount of money to see in concert. Then, when we were situated in our seats, suddenly something rather close to me and amazing caught my eye. 

It was a smaller stage. With a piano on it. A Groban-sized piano. 

So, I immediately turned to Emma. 

Me: Girl, what is that over there?

Her: What?

Me: That thing 10 feet away from us right now. 

Her: Oh my gosh.

Me: You don't think he'll be right there, do you?

Her: Oh my gosh. 

Me: *internally dies from the potential closeness of Josh Groban*

Her: Oh my gosh. 

So, then I just sat there totally flipping my shit because Joshua Winslow Groban might be super close to me any moment from then. And then his opening act came out. And that was alright. I don't remember much of that because of the amazing piano stage that was 10 feet to my left. Yes. It was like being at a funeral and having no choice but to think about the rotting corpse in the box in front of you. (Yes, I did just compare a lifeless body to a piano. Deal with it)

And then it happened. He came out. And began the show. On the piano. 10 feet from my body. 

I melted. 

He did his thing and I continued to melt onto the floor beneath me. His smooth vocals, piano-playing that could make miracles happen, and perfectly styled hair were flawless. The whole crowd was silent for lots of the show because we were all mesmerized by this God-like presence before us. I'd never been to a concert where the crowd wasn't 98% screaming teenage girls or drunk neanderthals, so this was a new concept to my mind. I loved it. 

My favorite thing about concerts are the stories that the performer(s) will tell during the show. Josh, thank the high Heavens above, did this at my concert. He talked about how he'd seen that Tulsa was having it's annual Mayfest (which the cute little idiot called May Fair... but I'll let it slide this time) and some other stuff. Then he told a story about how someone had made a tweet about how he wouldn't be caught dead at a Josh Groban concert. 

Unf. (photo by me!)

Now, what happened next can't be explained. 

Me: OH NO HE DI-DN'T!

Josh: *turns in my direction*

Josh: That's right! "Oh no, he di-dn't!"

Instantly, Emma's mom had her hands on my shoulders and she was saying that I'd talked to Josh. 

And I had.

I had spoken to Josh Groban. 

Truthfully, I didn't think he'd hear my yell because I'm just so used to not being heard, but he did. He acknowledged that my vocal cords had produced a sound that his ears understood. It was amazing. 

So, you see, I might just say things spontaneously sometimes, but sometimes that unflattering habit of mine can perform pop-opera miracles of the Josh Groban variety. So, anyone who says I need to keep my mouth shut can suck my big, fat one, okay? Because I know they haven't talked to Josh freaking Groban.