My ticket said NO CAMERAS, in very big capital letters. So I did not bring a camera, lest the Imaginary Authority Figures decided to yell at me.
They DID yell, kind of, but not about the camera thing.
Jason bought me these tickets way, waaaaay back last summer for our anniversary, and included a upgrade to a special Little Monsters package, which meant we got to get in before anybody else and snag the primo floor real estate up front. At first, this did not seem to be much of an upgrade at all, since it ALSO meant my friend* and I got to start standing up a full FIVE FREAKING HOURS before Lady Gaga actually came on stage.
Five hours. Of non-stop standing up, minus exactly two incredibly hurried pee breaks. Not exaggerating. I can't even spend five hours SITTING down before I feel wiped out enough to move to full-on LYING down.
Our spesul sort-of VIP status meant nothing to the event staff, however, who screamed at us repeatedly that if they saw ANY OF US not walking single-fucking-file, or cutting in front of people, or trying to run to our spots once we got inside, SWEARTOGOD, they would yank us out of the speshul line and toss us in the way back of the outside-round-the-block-general-admission line, IMEANITREALLYNORUNNING.
No one ran. I'm not sure any of us were even comfortable BREATHING DEEPLY until we made it to the stage barricades in the most orderly, kindergarten-line fashion possible.
*Jason bought the tickets, but SHOCKINGLY had absolutely no interest in attending the concert himself. I know, right! I think he totally would have rocked some caution tape and a tutu, but WHATEVER.
My place at the stage barricade, which completely blew my mind, being all of five puny feet from the stage.
(I do wish I'd managed to take a few more photos OF MY OWN STUPID ARM, though.)
Even though this backdrop was actually for Scissor Sisters, it set the mood for the evening nicely. Standing up, plus naked boobs.
The baby was relatively chill up until the opening act, when he woke up and started kicking like crazy, all WTF WAS THAT. Before that moment, I'd only really remembered that yes, I was indeed waddling around a Lady Gaga concert while pregnant when I saw everybody else's outfits and costumes. Twitter felt VERY STRONGLY that I should go using my belly as some sort of egg-related prop, perhaps with a side of bacon hotpants, but I didn't quite have the nerve to attend bare-bellied. At one point I was seriously considering a Naughty Pregnant Cop* outfit, but it wasn't as...ahem...STRETCHY in the abdomen area as I thought, and I couldn't get it zipped up.
I went with a black lacy minidress that, if you squint, could POSSIBLY be interpreted as 80s-Madonna-ish-by-way-of-Target, bright purple tights, and a pair of over-the-knee black boots that I affectionately refer to as my Hooker Pirate Boots. Oh, and glow-in-the-dark Silly Bandz and a glittery purple headband that dug into my skull after an hour but bitch, I kept that sucker on all night like it was my own Alexander McQueen Lobster Shoe. I WILL SUFFER FOR MY HALF-ASSED FASHION.
*If you have to ask why I had the resources on hand to even attempt a Naughty Pregnant Cop outfit, well, yeah. I...I'm sorry for this monumental bit of oversharing, but I did.
For the record, you can absolutely bring a camera to a Lady Gaga concert. It's actually ENCOURAGED, to the point of being part of the show at least two times. Every single goddamn other person in the audience apparently knew this, meanwhile, I'm stuck with mementos of The Time I Was 10 Feet From Lady Gaga that all look like this:
Yeah, I was totally trying to get a picture of her ass. IF YOU'D SEEN IT IN REAL LIFE YOU'D KNOW WHY.
Usually, I'm not a big fan of pop/dance music, and even less of a fan of giant, expensive stadium shows. But obviously -- thanks to all the guilty-pleasure confessing I do at Mamapop -- I've developed a very deep affection for Gaga and her craziness, in part because underneath it all I get the sense that she's just messing with us about 99% of the time.
This show was like a big-budget rock opera: part Rocky Horror, part Andy-Warhol-art installation, part-self-mocking melodrama, part motivational Up With Tolerance & Self-Acceptance & Equal Rights seminar, and part cracked-out acid-fueled I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT.
None of it was lip-synched, and goddamn, she can sing.
(And performed live, Born This Way, weirdly, doesn't resemble Express Yourself nearly as much as the radio single does. Almost not at all. I mean, it helps that it started off as a near-acapella gospel choir song before morphing into a frenetic dance number with Very Hot Simulated Gay/Straight/Bi action by her Very Hot Back-Up Dancers, but still.)
I pulled the "I'M PREGNANT" card exactly twice:
Once while trying to navigate back to my spot before the show started after a bathroom break, and encountering a wave of assholes who were simply REFUSING to budge to let anyone through, refusing to believe or care that sorry, you WERE there first and had a spot being held by friends. I mean, I've held my ground to a point at shows too, especially when it's GROUPS of people obviously trying to push their way up front, but COME ON. It actually got the point where a grown man tried to body check me, with elbows out, and push me over into a group of other people. So I freaked the fuck out at him for being a fucking asshole to a SIX MONTHS PREGNANT WOMAN, LET ME THROUGH. Then I started screaming my friend's name so everyone turned to look at the stupid jerk getting physical with the little pregnant girl.
He then tried to lecture me about being at the concert in the crowd in the first place, since I was pregnant. I told him that he'd been the first and only thing to make me feel at all unsafe all day, so congratulations. Also: I've been holding my damn spot over there for FIVE HOURS ALREADY. You think you're gonna stop me, Gandalf? LEMME BY, YOU AMATEUR.
The second time was probably less noble. I yelled at a 16-year-old to stop crushing me against the barricade every time Gaga stepped close to us and shoving her camera directly in front of my face. I think my exact words were something like "YOU NEED TO CHILL THE FUCK OUT."
Or maybe "GET OFF MY LAWN."
Oh, and I saw Kathy Griffith, sitting in the seats right behind us, but did not get the opportunity to freak her out in the bathroom line or anything. Though I did strike up a conversation there with a nice grandmother who couldn't wait to see the crazy costumes, and hoped Gaga would sing Poker Face. (She did.) I also saw a lot of girls wearing just their bras and an even greater number of boys wearing...well, not very much clothing at all.
And thus concludes my list of reasons why I think attending a Lady Gaga concert should definitely be on every woman's list of Top Five Things To Do While Six Months Pregnant, because I had an absolute fucking blast, and would do it again in a heartbeat.