A Year Ago Today: WTH World Tour

It started out as any other concert going event.

Tickets? Check. ID? Check. Dancing Boots? Check. Plaid button up? Check. Passports to get into Canada? After a mad search and almost cancelled plans, check.

On a “last hurrah” to my time in the US for nine months, my dancing partner in crime and I went to Winnipeg, Canada to see some of our favorite musical artists. Jon Pardi (one of the pillars of our friendship) and Cole Swindell (another pillar) were performing on Dierks Bentley’s “What the Hell World Tour”.

We had the most epic night planned. When our music gets to playing, the moves come out of the woodwork. The moves that didn’t surface until after those awkward high school and middle school years…you know the ones where you care what people think and try to look cool. I was never good at those moves…then I started hanging out with Brittni.

We developed our own style…”chicken winging” if you would. As we made the circuits around Minnesota country music festivals, people started to recognize our dance moves…and then us (as we used them). We had never taken them abroad, however.

Brittni had scored floor tickets…the only proper way to watch a Jon Pardi concert is with plenty of room to dance…and plenty of water to stay hydrated.

Then as the lights dimmed and Jon came on to open. Our bodies took over.

Here’s a more slow-moving song…a video taken from someone’s instagram (my creeping skills at their best).

Of course, we never stopped dancing. We knew every song…and like our own aerobics class…it was a work out.

When Jon Pardi pointed us out to the crowd, we about died. (Granted, he thought we were all hopped up on Mountain Dew.)

Lights dim, he steps off…we prepare for Cole Swindell.

A quick trip up to the water people and we ran into some concert-goers that commented on our dancing style.

Back in position, with our 3rd grade dance partner and Cole came on.

Another set of songs we knew, another set of songs we danced our heart out to…and next thing you know, he was leaning over and shaking our hands, calling out the dancing to the crowd.

2/2. Beaming.

 

Set ends. Dierks is coming.

At this time, one of the managers threw us some guitar picks and comments on our dancing. Dierks comes on.

We’re catching second and third winds in between insane cramping and hoping for a slow song…something just so we can catch our breath.

Our opportunity comes to take a pause when the same manager that threw us the picks waves us around the fence. He called us over deeming us the “interpretive dancers of Canada”. Interpretive is a good word for our nonsense. Then he asks us to “wait right there”.

Exploding with emotion is a pretty good work for the butterflies, nausea, and excitement I felt as he leads us back stage. I don’t think I could stop moving and it would be impossible to stop my cheeks from hurting with such a wide smile. Even today, I can’t help but beam.

Then our friendly manager tells Dierk’s tour manager to “take care of us”.

As a handful of other women, women that had won the opportunity in some sort of contest/drawing, come up behind us, they gather us into a row and explain what we will do during the encore.

Jon Pardi and Cole Swindell come out. They wait for their cue as “Drunk on a Plane” starts, and they head out through the plane prop to get on stage.

Rules are laid out.

“Go out, one at a time. Don’t cross a certain line. Don’t touch the artists. Take pictures or whatever. Have fun.”

I’ve never fainted, but if I could have in that moment.

“I can’t dance. I’m gonna be sick.” is what I remember telling Brittni.

Then she got the cue, and she pushed through the door…me on her heels…and our bodies took over.

Before we knew it, Cole Swindell was gesturing us over and we were dancing on the catwalk. WHAT THE HELL TOUR, indeed.

 

The night ended as a couple people told us they had seen us and then we met two very kind and excited women as we left the coat check.

“YOU’RE THE GIRLS!” … ummm? maybe…?

They had been a few rows from our side of the pit and had seen us dancing all night. They were even kind enough to send us a snap chat they had taken of our big moment. My smile continues to beam at the memory of the whole encounter. Forever grateful that they stopped to talk with us, share our excitement, and beam about crazy dancing.

 

 

Here’s to living in the Middle of a Memory, wondering What Was I Thinkin’, staying Up All Night, Feel[ing] that Fire as Free and Easy Down the Road I Go, being Heartaches on the Dancefloor, Chillin’ It with hobbies that I Can’t Put Down,  and being “up for anything A to Z” because…dancing on stage…I Hear it Happens All the Time.

 

This night was Brought to you by [Water].