The Journey to Greenville

I might say that the Journey to Greenville began in my parent's living room when I was 16. That would be true. But it seems even more true to say that the Journey to Greenville began at Deer Creek in 1998, a short year and a few months ago. At Deer Creek I heard the Moody Blues for the very first time; at least it seemed that way. The music sounded fresh and completely new. My life as a Moody fan had begun.

There's a great deal to learn as a Moody fan. I am a novice; not just a beginner, but one who has entered a religious order. We wear t-shirts in this order, usually black t-shirts. But it's not without its freedoms; you may wear any kind of shoes you like. You pick your god (is it a coincidence that one website is titled "Altar to Justin"), a few decide to be pantheists. Your life revolves around the bulletin boards, the tours, the brokers, the setlist, the backup singers, the television/radio/internet appearances, the tales, the travails, the children, the wives, the lovers. It's a full life for a Moody fan, and we live in fullness in these Strange Times.

I joined the OFC last fall because they offered fan club only raffles. When I read about the backstage pass raffle, I was confused. I had only planned on attending one concert, the one at Deer Creek. (As you can see, I was not familiar with fan policy at that time.) But what the heck! I thought it was the opportunity of a lifetime, and worth a few raffle tickets. More confusion followed. First, I was asked to pick which of the three concerts I was not attending for the raffle. DC was too big, Iowa was too, well, west, but Greenville was just right. The biggest pitfall in Greenville, I thought, was to be sure to order my iced tea unsweetened. The 2nd thing that confused me was the raffle itself. I was expecting little tickets, broken in half, to arrive in the mail. The other half would go into a hat in England, perhaps a bowler, to be drawn by an independent type of person, hopefully one with a title, who would excitedly announce the winner. (with a lovely accent, of course!) I don't KNOW how they conduct raffles in England. I don't know to this day.

After securing my raffle tickets (in the above manner of speaking!), I did nothing. Actually, I waited. I felt strangely confident that I would win the raffle, and in fact, checked my e-mail daily, expecting to see the congratulatory message. The problem with psychic messages is that you don't really feel comfortable in acting on them ahead of time, because, well, they're psychic. It's the very nature of the beast. So, although I was sure I had won, I made no plans. On the other hand, I wasn't surprised at all when I checked my e-mail on Thursday and found the pleasant message from the OFC. Of course, the message from my travel agent was less than pretty (you want to go WHERE on MONDAY?) And you want a HOTEL room, too? I discovered that Greenville is a boom town in the New South, one where the savvy business travellers book their rooms months in advance. Renting a car and sleeping in it became a realistic option.