So, MATS has been a blast, as usual. It’s the first truck show of the year and we always look forward to coming out of winter like a couple of cocoon-weary butterflies to stroll around under the big lights and see tons of shiny stuff. The shows are our family reunions, it’s the only time of year we all take time to do something other than have trucks and lives beyond the road.
After five years, I’ve finally gotten the general lay of the land at the biggest truck show you can imagine. Considering that the first year we attended we spent three days here and never even knew the back half of the West Wing existed until we got lost on the way out and wandered through it, that’s saying a lot. It is truly an overwhelmingly huge event.
The new app is wonderful. Kudos to whoever developed it – I keep the printed show programs for my scrapbooks, and I love to have the hard copy, but I can’t even say how much easier it is to click an app than it is to page through the program and pull out the map when you’re juggling a bunch of swag. It’s really a great idea.
We had the opportunity to see Mr. Lee Greenwood perform “Proud to be an American” at the Red Eye Radio party. Of course I cried, you’d have to be a heartless bastard to listen to that song, with Mr. Greenwood standing 20 feet away from you singing it like he means it, and not at least tear up a little. It was incredible, and I’m so happy to have heard it.
Unfortunately, no one has developed an app to keep me from saying dumb things to famous people when I’m nervous and get a chance to speak to them. (I’ll have to get our buddy Will Chu to work on that for me.)
We got a few fleeting moments to talk to Mr. Greenwood, and the only thing I could think to tell him was that he made me cry. Because that’s exactly what famous people who perform for a living want to hear.
“Hi, you make me cry.”
Wonderful Wendy, could you go on over to the corner and lick a window, please?
Dang.
I’m no good under pressure. I’m much better when I can sit down and write things, except 99 percent of the time I’m writing them after the fact, and they’re actually considered “apologies” and not “blog posts.”
What I meant to say, Mr. Greenwood, is that your performance inspired me to tears and did indeed make me proud to be an American. I’m sorry all I could articulate was, “You make me cry.”
Dang.
I’m calling Will Chu …