When I was a little kid, Christmas took FOREVER to arrive. I would bug my mother all year long to look through the pages of the calendar, assessing just how much longer I had to wait. By about Halloween, the countdown became almost unbearable, and Thanksgiving seemed like a giftless torture practice session. As the season progressed, and the tree went up and the stockings were hung, my anticipation drove me to such a frenzied state that when the big day actually arrived, my euphoria almost killed me. I couldn't breathe deep enough, I couldn't focus on any one thing for more than a minute without my head threatening to explode. Yes, I was an excitable child. And I have recently found out that I am not much calmer as an adult.
Today, Christmases are a whole different ballgame. Now, as a parent, it befalls me to make my own kids go into joy-induced annual comas while juggling all the other craziness of the season as well. I still love that holiday, but it isn't the same as it once was. What IS promising to be a volcano of happy is the "now real" Conan tour. Much like Christmas, I have been counting it down ever since I bought the tickets... Luckily it has only been a matter of weeks, but even still it felt as if it would never get here. On the eve of the first concert, Conan and crew have been photographed hanging out with fans in Eugene, OR. This is comparable to the weather man mentioning that Santa has been spotted over houses just a few time zones away. He is real! He is coming!! And in just a matter of time, I going to experience him!! My adult mind can't process this any better than my child mind did....
When the actual day rolls around, I wonder if I will be able to play it cool? Will I stroll maturely along the sidewalks of Seattle, hand in hand with my husband, taking in the local sites and chatting amiably about the show to come? OR....will I be running up and down the streets, dashing into restaurants and storefronts hoping for a peek of a random band member, screaming up at hotel balconies in the hopes that Conan himself would step out to tell me to shut the hell up? Will I attack unsuspecting red heads who are out for a stroll, women and children included?? Will I burst into tears as I stand in line to show my tickets, making security guards just a little tense and causing my husband to state he'll never let me have Kahlua before a comedy show again??
As I look back on the childhood Christmases of yore, I now realize that a large part of the magic came in the waiting. I wonder if this will be the case of the Conan show, too. Maybe it could never live up to my expectations...or maybe it will surpass them. All I know is that one week from right this moment, I will have already been and gone again. All of the "going to be" moments will have become memories. That bright, shiny package under the tree will be laid open, and I'll finally know if it is a kick-ass Barbie Town House or a whole bunch of underwear. No matter what, I will appreciate the gift and feel warm and tingly for even getting it....(But deep down, I am rooting for the Town House!)
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