They say it's your belated birthday...

This year, I had the longest birthday in history. Most of the celebration was to be saved for the next week, when my sister was going to be in town and we planned to go to two Rick Springfield events in one day -- an in-store appearance on Long Island and a "Stripped Down" show in New York City.

That required a lot of planning and waking up at 7 a.m. to catch the train to Manhattan for the train to Babylon for the cab to Looney Tunes CDs. Unfortunately, it also involved subfreezing temperatures and a lot of walking for sis, who broke her toe the previous week and was in a walking boot.

We got there just in time to stand in line for about 90 minutes. On top of that, we found out that Rick had come down with a bug (not our fault this time!) The Looney Tunes staffer patrolling the line told us Rick might not perform nor take pictures with attendees. On previous occasions, musicians who had taken ill pulled the sick card on Looney Tunes. But then again, they weren't Rick Springfield.

They originally expected a healthy Rick to do three songs... he ended up doing 4 1/2 -- "Oh Well," "Human Touch" (with a lot of audience assistance), "Red House," "Jessie's Girl" (with assistance whether he actually wanted it or not) and some of "I Need You," a George Harrison Beatles composition.

On the YouTube video of the event, you can hear me go "yeahhhhhh" when Rick started "Oh Well," which also happens to be my favorite Fleetwood Mac song. He does it justice, even when he has the flu.

And then we went back out into the cold to line up for the pictures. If we skipped "I Need You," we might not have been at about 150 on the line, but we didn't. And eventually we did get back in the store and prepped to meet the man.

A bit about my plan. Originally, I helped coordinate a present for Sharon Wyatt, Rick's former co-star on "General Hospital." He was performing in Nashville on her birthday, Feb. 13. And the plan was for fellow Friends of Sharon Wyatt administrator David to take her to the show. But unfortunately, Sharon is still recovering from her umpteenth surgery for osteonecrosis of the jaw and was unable to attend. So my new plan was to get Rick to sign his new CD/DVD for her.

So we worked our way through the line. When it was my turn, and with me surprisingly not shaking for a change from either cold or Rick proximity, I told him it was my belated birthday and that my sister would be getting one signed for Sharon. I told him what that original plan was to be, and quickly got my picture snapped. Then it was her turn, and he signed "To Sharon, with love, Rick Springfield." Perfect.

There's a seamy side to being a Rick Springfield fan. You're forced to watch the lengths to which other fans go to to get to him. How they'll crowd him and try to stay in his face, as if that would make any kind of positive impression on him. (As I write this blog, he's doing a live event on stage at House of Blues in Boston. And fans were asked NOT to ask for a picture with him or a hug or an autograph during the question-and-answer session, but they did anyway.) I'm a dedicated fan, but I never want to be THAT kind of fan. And I think I'm not. In fact, I know I'm not, 'cause my sister would certainly straighten me out if I was.

Anyway as we rode the train back to the city, the snow began to fall -- see, it had been so cold earlier that it staved off the snow. Despite the MTA's attempts to rebuff us, we even got in a visit to the world's best bookstore, the Strand, before setting off for the night concert.

The performance was at The Concert Hall on West 64th Street across from Central Park. It's a converted church with, of course, amazing acoustics. The problem is finding exactly how to get in as there is no signage. Not too much fun hobbling around and trying to figure out where the door is when it's snowing and there are broken bones involved.

But eventually the right door of a door set I had tried before opened, and in we went to the 800-seat venue. Ah, warmth. Nice benches. People trying to step on your toes (good or bad) while getting to their seat in the padded pew.

One double rum and a nondescript opening act later, we got us some Rick. The poor guy was hurting, but he plodded to his stool with a bottle of cough syrup in tow. And truth be told, although he looked sick, he never sounded sick and delivered an incredibly intimate performance.

The "Stripped Down" shows are punctuated by sometimes fun, sometimes poignant, sometimes both at the same time stories about Rick from then to now. He started with "I Get Excited," really peeling away the poppier aspects of the song and delivering it in a raw style that set up the style for the whole evening.

My and my sister's joint favorite, "Affair of the Heart" was next, and he showed us how his use of chords now and then and probably in the future has remained the same. The evening included a spectacular slide show that complemented his stories. This was the case with "Me and Johnny," about a friend he made in childhood back in Australia who remains a close buddy today.

Rick went to the cough syrup bottle often. Frankly, I was amazed that he could recount these stories so lucidly. As I told my sis, I have trouble listing all the names of my cats when I'm under the weather and medicated.

One of the great tales told was about Rick going to Vietnam to entertain the troops and being serenaded by the sounds of bombs and gunfire. The pictures that accompanied these words were precious, and he truly looked like a baby in the midst of intense and great horror. The band gave him a solo to do on that tour, and that song was "Oh Well," now in his modern-day repertoire.

That and "Rolling and Tumbling" show off Rick's real talent and facility with the guitar. I would think that's being lost on the legions of fans who remember him as their first respective boyfriends, but increasingly, the crowds are featuring a lot of men -- and not just those dragged their by their women, but who are really into it. (As if to back it up, at this online House of Blues show, two guys were the first ones up to the mic to ask Rick questions.)

My favorite "Stripped Down" story is about the writing of "Love Somebody." It was inspired by Rick's co-star in "Hard to Hold," not the love interest played (badly) by Janet Eilber, but by the one left behind in the film, Patti Hansen. The former model is married to Keith Richards, and the Rolling Stones' guitarist moseyed down to the set when he heard his wife and Rick were getting along like gangbusters. And as Rick admitted, he turned into a 14-year-old girl himself when taking a picture with his childhood idol.

The most touching story of all would have to be about the passing of Rick's dad. As he explains, when it happened, he could only get a few lines of a song out ("April 24, 1981"). Only later was he able to truly convey his pain, in "My Father's Chair." He performed them back-to-back at the show and choked his flock up.

Sis was charmed by "If Wishes Were Fishes," a funny laundry list of things Rick would ask for if he got an unlimited supply of wishes, including that people stop referring to him as "Bruce Springsteen." He showed an affinity for technology too by belting out the soulful "Inside Silvia" with the assistance of a guitar app on his cell phone.

There were darling snippets of his early writing, including his debut single, "Speak to the Sky" and the very first song he wrote, the Beatle-esque "Painted Girl." Then a detailed story about being invited to write a song with Todd Rundgren, and the subsequent afternoon in which no song came forth. Instead, Rick toked, chilled and was pawed by the pet doxie. And of course, he would never leave out his two biggest hits -- "Jessie's Girl" and "Don't Talk to Strangers."

The evening was capped by a Q&A hosted by original MTV veejay Mark Goodman, who again tried to set down the ground rules about no hugging, autographs, photos. An "enterprising" Rick fan came up with another tactic, an offer to share her bottle of cough syrup with Rick. Another one -- at least one, that is -- would have been honored to get his germs. Sigh. I think I'm ready to write a blues song about the life of a sane Rick fan. A belated birthday gift to myself, no doubt.

Sometimes it's lonely at the top

(Disclaimer: The following should not be taken as a series of complaints. I'm very grateful for this rare treat, I'm just cataloguing the emotions behind them, just as I do each and every time I blog. So, if on the face, it comes off as petty, it's certainly not the place I'm coming from. I don't want to be petty. Not Tom, not Richard and especially not Lori Petty. Great, now I need a disclaimer for that!)

It started back in November. My co-worker, Daren, was giving me the traditional scary-as-hell ride to work, and we were listening to Q104.3. That's a classic rock station that plays the same 27 songs over and over again. So when the deejay said he was giving away Joe Bonamassa tickets at Radio City Music Hall, I was certainly surprised. And interested. I'd seen Joe before at B.B. King's and he's quite the talented guitarist. The part about it being on Q104.3 escaped me, since they don't play his music, but no gripe here.

Mainly I was calling for "ark," the back half of this combo we call "Park." I'm a fan, but Mark's the mega-fan. I was surprised when the phone rang at the radio station and I was shocked when I was told I won, but there it was. Two tickets to see Joe Bonamassa at Radio City, and I was entered for the grand prize of an autographed guitar and a meet-and-greet with Joe B. as well. Spectacular, right?

The next day I hear from Gianna at the radio station, she says the tickets aren't there yet and she'll contact me when they are. A month or so passes and I'm not overly concerned, but wondering what's going on with the tickets.

After the Christmas break, I heard from Gianna again. She told me to go to the station to pick them up. I replied that I don't come to the city that often during business hours, but would make it happen. Then she gave me a long series of instructions of how and when to get them. And then after all that, she added that she could Fed Ex them to me. I think I did a double take, even with no one else in the room. Shouldn't that have been said earlier?

No bother, she took down some info so she could e-mail me some release forms before they could be sent and then hung up. I was about to text Mark with the good news about the tickets and Gianna called back. "By the way, I didn't tell you, you're the grand-prize winner!"

I can't tell you how stunned I was at that. In fact, it had completely slipped my mind that there was a guitar and a meet-and-greet in play, I was just concerned about getting our seats at that point, I guess. My head was pounding as I shakily texted Mark about that one.

Then I signed and e-mailed back my release forms, got the tickets the next day -- although she had thrown some fear in me by saying if they got lost on the way, that was it on that front. But no problem there.

As far as Gianna had said, the radio station's part was done and someone else would be handling the guitar and the meet-and-greet for me. Except that never happened. I never got a call or email from anyone else on it.

The week of the show, I emailed Gianna back and told her the situation, completely unconfident about it based on what she had told me earlier. But by the end of the day, she had gotten back to me with meet-and-greet details. She had also dispatched another email about the guitar.

In the meantime, a conflict had sprung up for Mark. The guy who never had to go anywhere for work was in Atlanta all week. And he was gonna be flapping his wings pretty hard to get home for the show. The meet-and-greet was an impossibility. Can't tell you how much I didn't relish going to that alone. Mark's the super-fan, I'm just the "hey, I enjoy your music" fan.

The next day, another email from Gianna. The guitar was being Fed Ex-ed to me the day of the show. Potential problem: I had to leave for the city at 2 p.m. in order to get the bus, train and walking done to be there by the designated meet-and-greet time. Do I leave the guitar on my doorstep or ask a neighbor if it's not there by 2?

That proved to be no problem either. It showed up in the morning. I made the difficult decision not to lug the guitar onto the bus, train and subway for an autograph and left it behind. Mark's suggestion ... which he later took back ... after I'd decided to take his advice.

Of course, I'm at Radio City nice and early, cause you never know when you're gonna have a bus, or a train, or a walking problem. In the lobby, a lady from PBS was taking names for the meet-and-greet. Only she didn't have mine, she just had the PBS people's.

More about the people who paid for the meet-and-greet through PBS. I'm not sure they saw me at all, standing there all by myself. They seemed to be doing everything but making eye contact. It was a reclusive half-hour, I'll tell you that. With a side order of "should I worry that I'm not on this list"?

Some side issue sprung up between PBS lady and a couple of representatives, I'm not sure whether they were Radio City or Joe B. people, but PBS woman wasn't happy about it. One of the reps started taking names. I worked my way over there, THAT list I was on. Whew. He asked me where my "plus-one" was, I said he couldn't make it.

Now I'm bright-orange Radio City Music Hall wrist-banded and we're led down the hall, down some stairs. And there's a curtain with Joe's name all over it. Some basic tenets of meet-and-greets were given out -- no single pictures taken ... unless, of course, you came by yourself.

And before we knew it, Joe was in front of us with a disarming "sorry, I'm late." There were two people ahead of me and one group of four people behind me, and the guy halves of the couples were trying to stop the women halves from taking pictures. I tried to help, I really did, when I said, "I've heard that people can get thrown out for doing that."

I turned back around, and one of the guy halves said, "She's been here before." One of the woman halves retorted snottily, "I don't care if she's been here before." And that was my big interaction with a non-guitarist at the meet-and-greet. Was trying to help, but I shoulda kept my mouth shut.

I had been stressing about what actually I would say to Joe when it was my turn, but I really shouldn't have worried about it. I told him about super-fan rushing back for the show and thanked him for the guitar (now the latter HAD to be something that no one else in the line was going to say). And then the picture, and before I knew it, I was bundling back up and out the door.

It was about 90 minutes between the time that ended and when we'd be let in for the show, so I got lost in the NBC building for a while. (Funny thing was I almost rolled my eyes when someone at Penn Station had asked me where the exit was, and then I was a couple minutes away from doing the same at NBC. What a maze!)

A hot chocolate and some laps around Radio City and 30 Rock later, it was time to go in for the show. And now I did find some people I could actually talk to -- Dan and Roseanne! Well, not the Conners of TV's Roseanne, and actually, it's Dan and Roseann. But I met some nice people. And incensed them equally -- Dan with my story of getting the guitar and Roseann with the tale of the meet-and-greet. She had been told Joe wasn't doing any because the show was being recorded or some such nonsense. To clarify, I think that Joe's peeps weren't doing meet-and-greets, although he did have the PBS ones ... and mine.

Despite the fact that Dan wanted Mark "to miss his plane" out of Atlanta -- it may sound overly harsh, but it really made me laugh hard, I enjoyed talking with them a lot. And the rum helped too.

When you're sitting in the audience at Radio City, you kinda bemoan the sight line, especially when someone taller is right in front of you. But the minute the music starts, you realize it couldn't sound better.

Joe did two amazing sets, starting off with an acoustic one. This included my (and Roseann's) favorite song "Different Shades of Blue," a tremendous cover of Robert Johnson's "Stones in My Passway," and Daniel Lanois' atmospheric "Still Water." Mark texted during the first song, his plane had just landed.

Then a break (and another rum) before the electric set. More great material, including a dynamic blues triumvirate: Howlin Wolf's "Hidden Charms," Muddy Waters' "I Can't Be Satisfied" and Otis Rush's "Double Trouble." I didn't even THINK about Clapton's version during the latter, so that should say a tremendous lot. And I knew a lot more of his material than I did the previous time I saw him.

And then Mark showed up! He got to see about an hour of the show, including Dan's favorite, a cover of Tim Curry's "Sloe Gin." The three-song encore included a Hendrix cover, "Hey Baby (New Rising Sun), "Oh Beautiful" and "So, What Would I Do."

I didn't get to say goodbye to Dan and Roseann, who ducked out before we stood and turned around, so ... "Bye guys, nice to meet ya!" And then we came home and Mark played with the guitar ... and the cats ... and the dog. And it was good, and back to our wacky embarrassment-of-riches existence that is Grand Central Station meets the Bronx Zoo.