September 4th, 2005 Reno, Nevada. Caitlin and I arrive to the DC3 (Destiny's Child) concert early. We do a lap around the venue, no tour busses. We enter the Silver Legacy and down a couple of Shirley Temples even though we are both now 21. We discuss possible places for Beyonce's B-day party later, (it is her bday) then decide to take a lap on foot around the venue. We see a group of suspected DC3 fans across the street. We approach. They tell us Kelly, Michelle, and Miss Tina have already come off the bus. That leaves just one person left: Queen B. We wait, not too long and she disembarks. I want to run close to her but I'm scared. I scream "Happy Birthday BEYONCE!" She waves to me and walks her weave away. I'm pumped. I want to jump into a prop waterfall in jeans and a white tank and sing "Lose My Breath." I want to steal Michelle's solo in Survivor but instead, I walk out during her set for a pee pee break. No one holds a candle to the Queen. After the concert Caitlin and I scour the Reno National Bowling Stadium in hopes of crashing the diva's party. No such luck.
Flashback: I'm in 8th grade and in "computer" class. My teacher is a trekkie who cares more about Spock than his students. He lets us use the computers which are wired to the internet. Yahoo? What is that? I don't know but I soon learn from Yahoo all the lyrics to No, No, No, remix and the names of the group members. Beyonce? The prettiest girl I've ever seen. She is so fierce. I'm so furry. Why does my mom insist on Nair? I need a razor and some pleather pants. An accent mark in my name wouldn't hurt either.
Fast forward to 2001- My junior year of high school. Our dance teacher has sent us to the vice principal's office for his blessing on choreographing a dance to "Bootylicious." We present him with the printed out lyrics. He doesn't approve. I give him the ole female empowerment shpeel. He doesn't budge. I contemplate saying something about his daughter puking in the girl's bathroom trash can at Sadie Hawkins but, like Beyonce, I have too much dignity. We walk out of his office and I feel yucky. Like the Mexican girl who has an inclination towards urban culture. I go to the nearest D.E.M.O. and buy myself some Baby Phat earrings to ease the pain. I just wanted to dance.
Beyonce, shot by me, myself, and I.
August 30th, 2007- Beyonce is a solo act now and we're going to see her in Lake Tahoe, CA. We have seats in the 13th row and are pumped about that. For the occasion I choose a sequin Dream Girls number I purchased at the Goodwill for 6 dollars. I make Caitlin give me an up-do in the parking lot. True friend. I soon discover not everyone is dressing in character. I don't care. We make our way to our seats and see some people sitting in them. They show us their tickets, identical to ours. Ticketmaster make a boo boo. We confront security about the mix-up. They seat us in the front row and tell us they will take care of us. The lights go out and we scream. There we stay the entire show. Front freaking row with my freekum dress on. Every woman got one. We are so close we can see the sweat drenching her weave, the nets on her fishnets, I don't think we were ready for this jelly, she is just as beautylicious up close. We sing, we scream. She sings happy birthday at the end, my birthday is at midnight. I'm 23 and can drive off the mountain on the way home and die happily. I make it home. I tell my dad she sang happy birthday but I don't think she noticed me. My dad looks at my dress and says, "Oh, I'm sure she noticed you."
The back of my dress and impromptu up-do.
Caitlin and I after the concert showing how close we were. Caitlin and Beyonce are now both pregnant with their first child.
B-lieve it. Beyonce from the front row.
"You must not know bout me lalalalala"
September 2008- I'm living in Mexico and have become an official Beyonce ambassador. I make every Mexican that enters my home watch my Beyonce DVD with me or "Beyonc" as they pronounce it. I have the concert and her video collection. And then...Single Ladies drops. I go to the internet cafe and pay 11 pesos and hr to watch the video over and over. I download the album on itunes hijacking the internet from my classroom at the elementary school I teach at. I head up to my studio apartment in the hills and have a solo album listening party of I Am...Sasha Fierce. My friend Megan comes up to my appt with her male roommate, Chino, to watch the Single Ladies video which also downloaded with the album. He is impressed. They leave and I have an epiphany that all my favorite people are from Texas: Megan, Beyonce, and Selena. I lay on my pillow and I smell weed. I discover an ABS (already been smoked) joint behind my bed. Chino estuvo aqui.
August 28th, 2011- I still love Beyonce but we are like old Facebook friends now. I would tell her Happy B-day, maybe make some fake plans on her wall about how we should get together, but I don't follow her daily routine. Maybe I still feel snubbed over not getting a wedding invitation. Whatever, I couldn't go anyways, I was out of the country. She still is an amazing performer to me, but she's just too private of an artist. I'm tired of hearing the same things over and over in every interview she gives. She was on Star Search, she loves her daddy, babies in due time. I still download her latest album, but don't have strong feelings about it or her overt sampling of Major Lazer. I see her perform at the VMAS's. I miss the pre-show. I see her sing the shit out of "Love On Top" and glow like the sequins on her Dolce and Gabbana blazer. When she drops the mic at the end I await the usual: stripping down into some sequin adorned booty shorts. But no! A baby Beyonce bump? She rubs her stomach and smiles. I bring my hand to my mouth and break into tears. I'm so happy for her. I still care. The way she shared it with the world, so precious. My boyfriend does nothing. I run outside to text Caitlin the news. My parents walk into the house and I tell my dad the news. "Beyonce is pregnant!" He answers," With what? A Jay-Z? A Dr. Dre? A Kanye?" I tell my mom, and how I cried. She tries to explain it to my boyfriend, "I once cried about something on TV. It was this little monkey on the news, and every day they showed the monkey and how we has doing. He was extinct? or what do they call it? Yeah, there you go, an endangered species. And then the monkey died and I cried, I was so sad." My boyfriend and I looked at one another blankly. I don't know how to explain why I cried when I found out but I hope I just did.
Happy B-day to me,