5-1-5-0; Florida State is 5-0

Lord have mercy, what a week. 

So glad HostFest is over. Not that it was bad, it was just insanity.

Everything people told me was true, but it still blew my mind. I’d been told – repeatedly – that the HostFest crowd was all silver haired folks with walkers. Tons of them, people said.

Still, it’s one thing to be told about it and another to experience it. Holy cow, the gray hair! There were elderly folks everywhere. The whole exhibition halls were packed with people, and the little ladies outnumbered the little men about five to one. I really did get trampled as I tried to get a free cookie sample.

Folks were in from all over, including the Scandinavian countries. But there were zillions, I think, from Saskatchewan and Alberta. I think every second person I saw was from one of those two provinces.

Every day, I set up and took down the Hope Village booth. I had a free pass on the hotel shuttle, which worked awesome for the most part, although occasionally I got stuck wandering in the halls to kill time before the next bus.

One evening, I watched the Oak Ridge Boys on the free stage. It was kind of bizarre, just because that attorney I’d worked for had been their manager/financial guy/whatever since the 1800s or something like that. I mean, I’d fielded calls and emails from the guys, although I can’t for the life of me recall a single name.

But man, they crank out a good show. Low-key, but really well done. I think they played for 45 minutes before they took a slight breather to talk. It was fabulous.

Saturday was brutal. Before the Host Village booth fell into my lap last Thursday, I’d already signed up to work 10:30 to 3:30 at the Our Savior Lutheran Church’s salad booth. Then, as it was the last day, I scheduled myself to close down Hope Village’s booth so I could take the booth down.

I’ve gotten no sleep whatsoever this week. Too stressed (not in a bad way) about HostFest and things going all right with that. I’ve gotten up around 6 a.m. or before every day and just have had some wild dreams.

 

But Saturday went well, even if I did wake up early for no reason. I made it through and even got into the Dierks Bentley concert.

Man, THAT was weird. Let’s just say that the HostFest is NOT a “young country” crowd. At all. I was kind of surprised at the lineup, really. I mean, it seemed like an odd selection, and it just got weirder as the night progressed.

First, Bentley was not on the free stage. I wasn’t about to fork over money, but in the morning at the salad booth, someone offered a ticket and I said sure. I had absolutely no idea who he was and even had to ask his name right before the show.

He was very nice and a big concert go-er. He said he normally took a lot of photos and also recorded the shows. So that was kind of odd in a Seinfeld-y way, but, like on Seinfeld, something went wrong – he wound up forgetting his memory card so he couldn’t record. It was kinda funny.

It was a bizarre, bizarre show. This is young country, not the Oak Ridge Boys. Yet the crowd, even with a good number of younger kids, likely averaged well over 50. And those older folks sat in the front row seats, where, if my ticket was priced at $80, was a good chunk of change.

The operative word there is “sat.” At this uptempo show, they just sat. And some of the younger fans wanted to dance.

So at one point – and I only have one Dierks Bentley CD, so I don’t really know the songs – he motioned for someone to approach the stage, and he high-fived the buckle bunny.

Well, that encouraged a slew of kids to come down to the mosh-pit area for a couple of songs. After maybe the second one, Bentley said something about “I just want to get it on record that I didn’t ask these fans to come down here.” He made light of it, saying he didn’t mind, etc.

But I wondered if it was in the HostFest rules (I’ve heard they’re restrictive for artists) that, essentially, no one could stand up. And considering a couple of minutes later the police forced the fans to go back to their seats, I really think they just can’t do that.

It just must be so weird to be an artist and essentially not be able to get any reaction from fans. It was just so weird and I kept laughing at it. I just thought it was so funny.I felt bad for Bentley, though. I wondered if he, like me, had been told everything about the crowd but still found it unbelievable.

Fairly early on – after the cops busted up the fans – Bentley kicked the band off and went into acoustic mode, which I enjoyed. I have the first CD and he played “My Last Name,” which I at least knew. (And I wonder if he was aware that one of the announcer guys before the show referred to him as “Dierks Benedict.”)

While I wouldn’t in any time in the foreseeable future spring $80 for any concert I can think of, I would pay more for acoustic. I like that so much better. Screw the stadium, bring on Bluebird.

About a third of the way through the show, my ticket buyer went to the restroom, and happened to run into his father and borrowed a memory card from him. He came back with the card and said his father (who was likely in his 70s) deemed the show “terrible,” and left.

We, though, had a great time. About the time Ticket Buyer came back, Bentley had brought the band back out and kicked it up. As TB was fumbling with the camera settings, Bentley started playing up to the young rambunctious crowd – which happened to be seated in the section next to us.

Then Bentley got down off the stage, walked past the older folks, climbed the steps and walked over to the little buckle bunnies as they mobbed him. I am not sure how it’s possible to do that without missing a beat (literally) but he did fairly well, even turning over the mic to one of the girls. I mean, if they wanted to fondle him and didn’t, they weren’t trying. It was kind of funny. TB got some excellent shots, but I didn’t think to bring a camera.

Incidentally, Bentley got a haircut and looks much better. I like the CD I have, but I don’t find the man attractive.

One of the songs he did he talked about his father, who died earlier this year at the age of 88. I looked it up – Bentley’s 36. Holy cow.

During the beginning of the show, I kept texting Barry so I could get the FSU score updates. I’d had my laptop on while I was working the Hope Village booth but the show started around halftime. I got the score going in but it was WAY too stressful to not know what was going on. I kept checking the messages until FSU was officially 5 and 0. Thank God.

After the show (finale was “What Was I Thinking?”), I broke down the Hope Village booth, and as I was lugging everything out, one of the people from one of the nearby booths stopped me and said I had been very good. I asked what she meant and she said that while she couldn’t hear what I had been saying about Hope Village, she could tell I was sincere.

I was totally flattered by that, but it is true. I really enjoy what I am doing because I believe in it – we are working to get 500 families back into their homes. I can tell you, on a weekly basis, how many families are still living in FEMA trailers (1,086), how many homes we’ve worked on (over 300), and how many jobs we have pending (190).

We’ve had volunteer teams (185) from 25 states and four Canadian provinces. We also set up local volunteers with projects – I will put anyone to work.

And I am sincere about it. I’m definitely not faking it. I am in the right place and doing the right thing.