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Tuesday, June 26, 2007

The Greatest Story Ever Told: Part I

Here you go. I took various notes throughout the day for what would only be the first half of my journey to see Paul McCartney. I wrote this stuff as I went along, so it is damn authentic. Hope you enjoy. I will post part 2 probably on Thursday.

7:45 a.m.: I have arrived at Amoeba. A lot of people are sleeping in sleeping bags or chairs. There is probably only 160 people here. I introduce myself to my "neighbor" for the next 36 hours, Trini, and her daughter, Krissy (probably around 10-12). Let the games begin.

8:25 a.m.: Next person arrives, Sadrac. He's going to be a senior in high school. Apparently, he just found out about the show and took a bus down. What's up with these names? Is it Hollywood or McCartney fans?

8:45 a.m.: Someone from Amoeba (she has an Amoeba t-shirt on) tells us to move closer to the building. I don't know if I will ever buy it, but I want one of those t-shirts to remember this.

9:00 a.m.: Part of me doesn't really care now, but I could have easily slept a couple more hours at the apartment. Only one person has arrived after me.

9:10 a.m.: A big group of Mexicans (couple adults, teens, and younger couple) arrive. Not going to lie, not what you consider to be diehard Beatle/McCartney fans. Wait a second, the younger couple are making out right next to me. Who would have thought I could watch the making of a softcore porno while waiting in line. That reminds me, where are all the hot girls? I'm the only good looking person in their 20s in line.

9:15 a.m.: Sadrac is eating some Jack in the Box. I think I might embark on a "Super Size Me" diet only subsitute McDonald's with Jack.

9:20 a.m.: The Mexicans busted out the pot. I am all for smoking, but there's a time (it's 9:20, chicos) and a place (not on the fucking side of the road in Hollywood). I hate to sound racist, but I hope a cop drives by right now.

9:40 a.m.: Some lady just gave me (un)officially number 162. I better get in.

10:00 a.m.: ABC 7 camera man starts filming the line of people. I'm sure this is just the beginning of media coverage.

10:03 a.m.: The property owner tells us to move down to make some room for painters. As a result, we are forced to move out of the shade. I wish I brought my sunglasses and some sunscreen.

10:45 a.m.: A nice girl from Amoeba hands out fans. It is getting really hot out here.

10:55 a.m.: This is extremely random, but I have to write this. Some guy just walked past me with a Nitro Girls t-shirt. Too funny.

11:00 a.m.: First site of a remotely attractive female. She's probably twenty people ahead of me. I think she's a little too tall for me. Let me check. I actually don't see her anymore. Fuck it for now.

11:02 a.m.: As soon as I finished writing another girl to my right walked in front of me. At least the girls are getting pretty. It's still a long way away from McCartney.

11:55 a.m.: Guy tells us that we don't have to wait until tomorrow. At 1:30 p.m., they will give you a card to come back tomorrow and reserve your spot in line. We can even bring digital cameras.

12:05 p.m.: Girl from Outlaw Productions calls me for an interview. I am forced to schedule it for Thursday at 10:30 a.m. and proceed to tell her that I am waiting to see McCartney at his secret gig. No idea if that was a good idea. Maybe, the producer likes the Beatles and I can talk to her about the show?

12:30 p.m.: Not as powerful as originally thought, but 24 hours until the bracelets will be given out.

12:42 p.m.: I Called Kopelson about Thursday. I think Heath is pissed at me. Hopefully, it blows over. Quick side notes, it still smells like pot or as one guy in line said, "Doobie!" Some of the people here are really cool. I've been talking to a couple different people and they have some good Beatle related stories. Arlene, one of my neighbors, told me about how she met Paul at a hotel and took a picture with him, then years later found it on ebay for eight dollars. Another guy told me, he saw Paul at Ralph's and they were looking at mangos together. Then, there is this British guy who won't shut the fuck up, but knows his shit. He saw The Beatles in 1964. There has to be over 250 people here. Oh, and I'm hungry, thirsty, and hot.

1:23 p.m.: See a couple more pretty girls. Unfortunately, they are at least number 250 (probably closer to 275), so highly unlikely I will be talking to them anytime soon. Wow, another girl just walked past me. I think it's so hot out right now that I'm incapable of getting a boner. Here are those two girls again. The second one is better. Wow, I'm bad. It's really fucking hot out. I'm dying over here. All my water is so hot I feel like I put it on the stove or something.

1:28 p.m.: Hope they start the cards soon. I want to go to Jack in the Box. Take this for what it's worth, but there's only one thing that all those Mexicans and Paul McCartney have in common: weed/pot/cannabis/Mary Jane/doobie!

1:30 p.m.: It's time. Let's get going. Just saw some girl's hand and it's 293, so we probably got around 300 people here.

1:31 p.m.: Kyle calls me and says hello. Pain in the ass.

2:15 p.m.: Still waiting. they're around number 80. The EMI Vice President, Jimmy, walks past me and says, "What's up?" Then, he keeps walking. What the fuck?

2:23 p.m.: Amoeba guy hands out Atkin's Advantage chocolate chip bars. Do you think I give a fuck about carbs right now? Where the fuck is the water? I hear they're around number 100.

2:33 p.m.: The Mexicans have officially pissed me off. They're smoking (pot) and drinking (beer) in public. They're listening to rap. They even don't know what a trash can is since they keep throwing their trash on the street. They're annoying, plain and simple. I just don't feel like they belong. Someone needs to tell them that this event is for Beatle fans only.

2:55 p.m.: Finally get my card, so I can leave and come back tomorrow to get my bracelet for the show. I will have to be back at around 12:00 p.m. to be safe, but I will probably get there even earlier. Not worth taking any chances.

2:59 p.m. Go into Amoeba for the first time and look at stage. It's really small. Smaller than I would even imagined. Tomorrow should be really interesting. Hopefully, I will be able to see since the CD racks are a little high. At this point, what's to complain about? I'm going to see Paul McCartney tomorrow night.

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