Actually getting to the concert was a huge ordeal. I didn't even know about it until the day before, so there wasn’t much time to plan. I went back and forth with myself on whether I even wanted to go. It was $50 for the tickets, $10 for the parking, plus whatever I needed for gas and drinks. It was on a Tuesday night about three hours away from where I lived. I knew I couldn’t find a friend to go with me on such short notice, especially with the money, timing, driving factors so I was facing it alone. I talked myself out of going Monday night, but somehow when I got to work on Tuesday morning I just knew in my heart of hearts that I was going to go. I had made the final decision after I had stopped even thinking about it. Unfortunately, tickets weren’t available online anymore. I called the box office and the nice man in the recording told me that tickets were still available at the door. I was banking on that still being true several hours later when I actually arrived at the Palladium Ballroom.
I left work running at promptly 5:00 p.m. and went home to change my clothes. I already knew it was going to be a stretch to make it on time. I made it out of my house by 5:30 and had exactly three hours to get to Dallas. Google Maps says this is a 2 hour 30 minute drive without traffic. I still needed to stop to get cash and gas, find parking at the venue, and buy my ticket.
After I had been driving about 40 minutes, I got a flat tire. Actually, it wasn’t flat. The tread had split open, but it was holding air. Even so, there was no way I was going to make it to Dallas on that. I changed the tire myself (with a little help from a good Samaritan). I was so glad that I had the foresight to bring a t-shirt with me. I brought it so that I could be comfy and not skeevy-feeling on the drive back from the concert, but I wore it over my clothes while I changed the tire so that I wouldn’t get dirty.
I drove to my parents’ house in Waco and switched cars with my mother. I’m not sure she wanted to lend me her car, but she knew that she didn’t have much of a choice. I was going to see Billy Idol, and if I had to drive on the baby tire that I had just put on my car - I would. So she didn’t object to me taking hers, and I floored it to Dallas. I stopped at an ATM and was still on pace to arrive at the venue exactly on time.
When I got to Dallas, the exit I was supposed to take didn’t exist. The directions told me to take exit 427C, but the actual exits skipped straight from 425 to 428. I guess my directions were old and some construction was done since Google updated. Bad Google! You will never achieve world domination this way.
I ended up finding the right street, but I was turned around. I stopped for directions at this other events venue when I knew I was close. Then I finally made it to the venue and parked!!
I hoped that Billy, being a rock star, would start late or at least have an opening act. A big no on both counts. Even while I was pulling into the parking lot, I could hear Billy inside singing. It was frustrating and the people in front of me were moving so slow. The guy in the car in front of me had turned into the parking lot accidentally and had to stop and ask an attendant for directions to get out. When I finally parked my car, I literally ran back to the front door. I bought my ticket off a scalper and made him walk me to the door so that I would know the ticket was valid. It worked, then I got carded at the next stop so I could drink alcohol. I swear, that lady was moving slow too. Billy Fucking Idol was singing! Didn’t they know? Didn’t they care?
I made a beeline for the standing room in front of the stage and I never looked back. Never hit the bar, so I didn’t need my stupid age 21+ wrist band anyway. It sucked being sober at the concert, but I wasn’t going to miss another single moment of Billy Idol performing. It worked out, because I had to drive an hour and a half back to my parents’ house. I didn’t really need to be intoxicated and tired for that.
I could have dressed a little more appropriately for the concert. Apparently, Billy was more of a punk goth than anything else. Okay, so I knew that, but I still didn’t really think I need to dress like a motorcycle chick to go to his concert. I wore a shiny, low-cut red tank top with gold beading around the waistline. Everyone else was in their rock’n’roll T-shirts or some kind of grunge garb. They saw me coming. They all had a little tinge of the 80’s that my outfit lacked. I did wear the biggest pair of earrings I own though.
For being a Billy Idol concert, the crowd was really tame. People staked out their position in the floor, and then didn’t really move. I arrived to the concert late and had hoped that with people milling between the floor and the bar, dancing, and just moving around in general, I could make my way forward. That did not happen. I got fairly close, but then there was just a wall of people. Not a shoulder to shoulder wall of people though. Everyone needed their personal space and protected it. I saw a guy almost fight another guy for trying to squeeze past him and get closer to the stage.
Almost fight another guy. No one actually fought. Or danced, head-banged, moshed, etc. It was disappointing. I wanted people to be crazy. I wanted to be crazy. It was Billy Fucking Idol. No dice. Everyone stood in their spaces and maybe swayed a little.
Billy is known for his fist-pumping, so at least there was a lot of that in the crowd. We were invited to fist-pump along with Billy during Mony Mony and Rebel Yell. We did, and it was so much fun. I can’t remember what song it was, but Billy yelled out “put your fist in the air!” and my fist went into the air like it had a mind of its own. I wonder what other of Billy Idol’s commands my body would instinctively obey.
Fist-pumping with Billy
Billy was playing with his original guitarist, Steve Stevens. Way back in the day, Steve left Billy to go play with a different band and try to make it big on his own. He was a successful guitarist, but I can’t say he became a household name. This tour seems to be a sort of reunion for Billy and Steve. Billy really played it up though. Every few songs he’d point over to Steve and scream out “STEVE STEVENS EVERYBODY –YEAHHHH!” Then there were the times when he was introducing the band: the dude on the drums, some other guy named Billy and… STEVE STEVENS!! There were songs where Steve had insanely long complicated guitar solos. There was a session in the middle of the show when every other member of the band left the stage for a good five minutes and Steve played alone.
It got to the point of being annoying.
I hate to sound like I’m dogging his talent. The man was incredibly talented. He shredded the guitar. Killed it. He was Led Zeppelin good. Carlos Santana good. [Your favorite guitarist’s name here] good. I have nothing bad at all to say about Steve Stevens’ guitar-playing ability. I have to give credit where credit is due.
That said, my admission ticket said “Billy Idol,” not Steve Stevens. You’ll notice that in this article (where I learned about the concert), there’s even a blurb devoted to who Steve is and how awesome he is. I think there's something else at work here. Steve is trying to make a comeback or he’s going to strikeout solo or something, and he’s using Billy’s record label as a jumping off platform. Probably on the same record label and they’re paying Billy lots of money to showcase Steve on his tour to build publicity. The Steve Stevens attention was that much over the top.
