Uncle Jesseeeeee...

My mother decided to take a shortcut through the Twilight Zone to get to the Fremont Street Experience. I was just chatting away in the passenger seat when I suddenly realized that I had no idea where I was. Then we passed a Hari Krishna watering his driveway. At least I think he was a Hari Krishna. He was wearing a robe like this. Except he must have been wearing the summer version because there wasn't as much fabric. Pretty much just the shoulder drape part. Anyway, across the street from him was a house that just had a bunch of fruit in boxes sitting along the sidewalk. In Las Vegas. In the middle of summer. Then we went by a house with a table in the yard with two table lamps on it. It wasn't a yard sale or anything. Just a table with some lamps. Then we went down this other street where, on one side of the road, there was this Leave It To Beaver style 1950s neighborhood. On the other side of the road there was like a ghetto with bars on all the windows. Like the criminals just don't want to cross that street or something.

We finally made our way to the semi-private concert. Apparently, semi-private means that all the people who were attending a furniture trade show and had their credentials were corralled behind a white picket fence and the rest of us weren't allowed in. Then, at one point, they moved the white picket fence and all the furniture people got to go up by the stage and the rest of us had to stand behind some metal gates about a foot away from them. Then the security just seemed to say "screw it" and let everybody go up by the stage. So, basically, it was a bunch of hullaballoo for nothing.

I should mention that it was like 130 degrees out there. At least it felt like it. It was hellishly hot.

Then the most wonderful thing happened. The Beach Boys came on stage and introduced John Stamos. John Stamos! The crowd went INSANE. This guy who was standing by us started screaming "Oh my God!! John Stamos!! He's my idol!!" I just went into a Blackie/Uncle Jesse stupor for the next two hours. The Beach Boys were there and they were singing hit after hit and I was enjoying them. Really I was. They were great and I guess I'm a big ol' fan after all because I knew and loved every song they sang for two hours. But they could have had monkeys playing the tambourine for all the attention I paid them. John Stamos was on the stage grinning and bouncing around and getting all hot because it was like 130 degrees out there and his shirt got wetter and wetter and started clinging to his chest and...well...I enjoyed the show. A lot.

After they played Fun Fun Fun and the band had left the stage I heard one lone man screaming "Uncle Jesseeee!!!" to no one in particular. Alas, Uncle Jesse was already gone.

To sum up: Las Vegas has some weird neighborhoods. Even at night, Las Vegas is hecka' hot in the summer. A lot of grown men watch "Full House." The Beach Boys deserve their legendary status and I recommend you see them even if John Stamos isn't there. Although John Stamos makes it better. But John Stamos makes everything better, now doesn't he?