This is how I remembered him.
The lovely intern at our office called my co-worker at 7 p.m. to tell her she had two extra tickets to the concert--floor seats. With a few minutes notice, I was ready to go.
Even though heat rises, I could feel the cold from the floor that doubles as an ice hockey rink. The large cold beer can in my hand wasn't helping either, but I chugged it and warmed up shortly after that. After dancing and drinking another beer, I was sweating.
The concert was fun. K.C. has obviously been performing a long time and knows what the crowed likes. He played his big disco hits, two dance covers and a couple of ballads. It must be a sign of aging, but I know he played a couple of his hits at least twice. I didn't mind. I was glad he didn't play any serious-songwriter crap. As I said, K.C. knows what his audiences want.
K.C. is quite the low-impact performer, but that didn't keep us from leaving our seats and pushing our way to the front. I didn't get to shake his hand, but I touched his pant leg and one of the guitarist's dread lock. But the best part was when one of the guitarists or the bassist, I'm not sure which one, gave me his towel. It wasn't sweaty or stinky, but only two of us got something from the band and that was enough to make me feel special. Plus I didn't even have to take my top off or make out with my co-worker.
All that and the concert ended before 10 p.m. What more can you ask for?
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