If for some strange reason I was ever named the prime suspect of a crime that happened the Saturday before last, and was dramatically asked the question, "Where were you the night of June 16, 2007?!" I might have difficulty deciding whether I should use my rock solid alibi or just take credit for the crime and go to jail. After all, would anyone even believe me if I told the truth? I wouldn't have even believed it myself if you had told me I would actually be where I was that night. I can picture myself on the witness stand with the "edge of your seat" courtroom suspense becoming unbearable and everyone waiting for me to answer. I would decide that jail probably isn't worth it and then slowly lean forward and mumble something about being at a concert into the microphone. From there, they would undoubtedly want to know the details of said concert and, to ensure the credibility of my statement, I would have to offer up a painfully precise description of the evening. There would probably be many shocked faces, audibly sharp gasps, and maybe even fainting- depending on who was telling the story afterward.
So, just in case by some freak coincidence I am wrongly accused of a crime I didn't commit and in order to clear my name I am forced to testify on my own behalf, revealing where I actually was on June 16, 2007, I would prefer you read it here in my own words, rather than those of the over-sensationalized press.
Now, for those of you who care enough to actually still be reading, I was ... drum roll please ... at-a-Keith-Urban-concert-experiencing-the-Love-Pain-and-the-Whole-Crazy-Thing-tour-live-and-in-stereo-at-the-Staples-Center...there, I said it. Now you know.
Okay, okay, I know you're probably thinking one of two things, "So what," or "Who the heck is this Keith Urban guy and why does Katie seem so self consious about going to his concert?" (or perhaps if you know who he is and you are mildly obsessed with him like I am, you may be wishing you got to go too). For those of you who really just don't care, I give you permission to stop reading right now, I won't be offended- just don't blame me when everyone is talking about how this one ends and you don't know because you didn't bother to read the whole thing. Now, for those of you who do wish to continue reading but don't already know who Keith Urban is, let me introduce you. Keith-everyone......everyone-Keith. Keith Urban has been on the country music scene for several years now but was most recently in the news/tabloids for marrying Nicole Kidman (who is almost as pretty as he is) and then a few months later, just days before the release of his latest album, checking himself into rehab. Now, with his life back on track, he is touring the world showcasing his latest album and greatest hits including, "Stupid Boy," "I Told You So," -referred to by Keith as a "ckeeky sarcastic love song" and "You'll think of me," -referred to by me and Josh as the "Suh-weater Song" (ask us why sometime- don't worry, it's not embarassing or even that funny).
I guess I feel a little rediculous about this whole thing because my initial interest in Keith Urban was his scruffy good looks and well-styled hair. Somehow, I've reverted back to being a junior high girl. I can't exactly pinpoint the moment I decided to start listening to country music radio just to hear his songs or when I made the decision to buy one of his albums, then all of his albums, and tickets to his concert, and a comemorative T-shirt and life-size poster at the concert. (I'm kidding about that last part- I only got the poster). I guess the road that brought me to this point has been a gradual journey paved by Country Music Television (CMT) when I was between jobs, KFROG 95.1FM, and the newly back on the air Go Country 105FM. I had never been a fan of country music before all of this- except for a very brief time in 1992 when my family was so caught up in the "Achy Breaky Heart" craze and the legendary mullet of Billy Ray Cyrus, that we actually bought the album and listened to it...a lot. So, I guess maybe I'm just a product of my raisin'. After all, I am a white girl who lived in "the sticks" (also known as the Inland Empire) for about eighteen years- sounds pretty redneck to me. Why should anyone be surprised that songs about horses, beer, and tractors are suddenly appealing to me? This does slightly complicate my theory that I am secretly Canadian but hey, Keith Urban is from Australia so I guess it doesn't really matter. All I know is I had a great time at the concert singing along to every word of every song. Josh was a good sport and sat there beside me the whole time probably wishing country music had stayed in Texas where he left it. I have no way of knowing how long this little phase of mine will last (again, I'm like a junior high girl) but I do know that June 16, 2007 will live in my memory as the night I breathed the same air as Keith Urban...and a few thousand other people in boots and cowboy hats. It's great to feel thirteen again, without actually having to be thirteen again.