As has been the trend, I left off last with a regret-filled sleep. Sunday morning brought stories of delight from my roomies and a barely masked FOMO-based depression from myself. I shook it off and we all headed down to the pool hoping to snag some lounge chairs at the early hour. Breakfast is for wimps who don’t want to get sunburnt so we skipped that and managed to plop down poolside, finally. As I mentioned, I don’t like being outside so I didn’t last long. The other girls had to scurry as well, in order to make it to the exclusive “Cruisers Only” party that was taking place that afternoon. Another event that eluded me. I didn’t have plans at all for the day, so I decided I should try and get a ticket to the evening’s performance. Obviously.
Alyson and I ran to H&M to get something neon to wear (if you glow at the show, they’ll marry you, right?), and because we hated everything we had brought. We were working on an assumption that H&M would have a plethora of neon choices and we were right. After the girls left for their mystery party, I lounged around and tried to make my pictures less blurry on Instagram. Mostly unsuccessfully. And I managed to contact an incredibly generous BH who gave me her two free “cruiser tix” for Sunday night’s show. I offered to pay her but she wouldn’t take any money. There’s a reason #BHLOVE is a thing. I texted Branson and asked her if she’d like the other and we made plans to meet up after showers for some pre-show drinks.
The shower in our hotel room was part godsend and part torture chamber. It was nice to be able to shower in something other than my clawfoot tub and have freedom to move without falling to my death on a slippery, concave surface. But the pressure was lethal. My nipples have never taken such a beating. Well…no, never. Once I finally escaped, most of my breasts intact, I instinctively checked my phone to find a text message from Alyson and Andrea saying that entry to the Cruiser Party required only an email. Which I could easily get. But it was starting. And I was nude. The next half hour flew by as I splattered makeup onto my face and pinned my hair in what ended up being a really strange decision of an updo. I had no time to fuss over whether or not my outfit made my arms look huge(er) or to even put in my contacts. So I ran to the elevators and to the club hosting the party. Email-laden phone in hand. When I got there, slightly out of breath and oddly alone, I panicked. Had they closed the doors? Where were the infamous security? I tentatively pulled back the curtain and saw noone still. So I continued. I basically just wandered in, unbothered. And I found my roommates in the crowd. The guys hadn’t come onstage yet so my timing was perfect. Even if I was a mess.
Five chairs soon held five boyband butts and we learned that the party would be more of a Q&A session. Which was ok with me. Most of the questions revolved around when they would tour next or put out new album material, but some were a little more endearing, asking how the “Donathon” bromance took root. One small child (who I hadn’t realized was sitting right behind me) challenged Donnie to explain why he promised her he’d serenade her at last summer’s tour and never delivered. He was appropriately sheepish and asked her if she’d like to join him on stage that night as his “Cover Girl”. It’s safe to say we all got our “awwww” fix. She took the precocious to a new level when she went on to say that they “better make it happen”, to which Donnie replied, “Do you need anything else?!” She looked around for a bit, and then said, “These ladies behind me would like some drinks!” I snorted. And I believe Donnie did as well.
The three of us left the party, laughing still and jonesing for some dinner. And then I remembered…Branson! I forgot about her again because I am a jerk. We were supposed to get dinner. I quickly texted her my apologies and she joined us at PF Changs for some asian food and the weirdest server ever.
Once finally entering the concert venue again we realized that the guys were already playing. Starting something on time is an unheard of feat for the New Kids. But, Donnie-time shifts when D-Dub has to be on the set of Blue Bloods at 5:00 am, across the country. He was in a hurry and the Sunday show reflected that. The ad-libs were mostly gone, though Joe continued to sing the wrong verse in “Summertime”. I’d be disappointed if he had gotten it right. Donnie got his words right, though he skipped them to tell us that he had gotten them right. But of course we knew. It was interesting to see the show from three different viewpoints over the weekend. I’d prefer to be in my Saturday 3rd row spot for everything of course, but at least I got to be near Joe when he briefly came over to our section during “Tonight”. I couldn’t reach through the crowd to frantically and awkwardly grab at his body, so I didn’t. I’m sure that was best for everyone.
Again, during a ballad, I checked my phone to see how many likes my Instagram photos had gotten since arriving and I almost flipped over the back of my chair. Jon Knight had commented on my photo of him. As my first social media interaction with one of the guys, I was pretty damn excited to see, “I was doing aerobics. ;)” staring at me from my notifications list. I mean…it’s an epic achievement in a BH’s life. With that accomplishment tucked away in my pocket I enjoyed the rest of the show, but missed the fact that Jon had run out on stage in his socks after not having enough time to finish his wardrobe change. Oh well, there are enough pictures floating around to make sure I remember it as if I did see.
We all headed out of the venue in a slow and sad march, knowing that it was the last time we’d see our guys this year. With a vague promise of a 2015 tour, however, we knew it wasn’t forever. After some more unsuccessful sightseeing (it was STILL too hot) we called it a night. I slept for about two hours, then sprang up to catch my ridiculously early airport shuttle. The flight home was uneventful, but I did see that adorable BH family from Part 1 of this series. The dad bid me adieu and said, “maybe I’ll see you on the cruise next year!” Maybe you will, mildly creepy elderly gentleman. Maybe you will.