I can die a happy man.

It started out so well...

I hopped the wrong sky train. I'd left my credit card on the nightstand. I went to the wrong arena. I ran 8 city blocks faster than Donovan Bailey. I hopped on a transit bus that had a 50% chance of taking me where I wanted to go.

But I made it.

I fought through obstacle after obstacle, in a foreign city, and miraculously made my way to join a sell-out crowd at Vancouver's Pacific Coliseum to sit in the third row and see the surviving members of the greatest rock group my ears had ever been introduced to.

Queen.

They took the stage with Paul Rodgers (vocalist for Bad Company and Free) shortly after I'd finished my hot dog and watered down beer. And from the opening riff of Tie Your Mother Down, to the fading strains of God Save the Queen, the show was brilliant.

It was one of those moments in life that never seem to happen enough. Any of the usual stresses of daily life we all experience were wiped away. For 2 and a half hours, I only needed to know three things: what lyrics to scream, which hand held the beer, and that Queen were rocking out in front of me.

For me, the highlight of the night would be during the performance of Hammer to Fall. Brian May stood on the catwalk, about 15 feet in front of me, ripping through the awesome guitar solo. The crowd went nuts and began clapping to the beat. My cousin Scott and I each had a beer in hand, and obviously couldn't properly show our respect and approval to this Guitar God who was given permission from the pantheon above to walk the earth and grace us with his presence. With our free hands, we gave a steady thumbs up, and with the other, raised our beers to him, as if to acknowledge "Hey! We'd clap if we could, because you have humbled us with your presence! But, man! What are we supposed to do with these beers!".

Without flinching or omitting any of the blistering notes being propelled from his instrument, Mr. May met my gaze, then looked Scott in the eye, and gave us a nod of approval, as if to say "It's all right boys! You overpaid for those beers - I wouldn't put them down either! Thanks for loving the show!".

And in a flash, he was gone, leaving behind a stunned duo, who both looked at each other and simultaneously exclaimed "Did Brian Freakin' May just look at us!??!"!

Now I'm not a fan of celebrities, and it takes one hell of a person for me to bestow upon them the title of "Idol", but Brian May more than earns it. And I don't care if it makes me seem like a giddy schoolgirl, but a man I respect, and dare I say, idolize, looked me square in the eyes. Man, THAT was cool.

The ticket was $130
The souvenir t-shirt, $40
The beer and hot dog, $10
The Sky Train that took me to the wrong arena halfway across town, $4.50
The service charge to take money out of the arena's bank machine, $2.50
To have the opportunity to have my ear drums rendered asunder by the gods of my youth...?

Priceless.

I can now die a happy man.

Currently playing: Diesel - Sausalito Summernights
Now entering my third Cola free day!

P.S. - I've been away from the computer and on vacation for what feels like weeks, so the old blog has been a bit stagnant. Fear not. I'm back in black!