Bonnie Lin Markowski: On the Road With Clay and Other Thoughts

On the Road With Clay and Other Thoughts

By Bonnie Lini Markowski

Congratulations Clay. Your first solo concert tour was a triumph. I read the good reviews, saw the numbers, witnessed the amazing sell-outs. But for me, this triumph was solidified when I looked behind me from my second row seat at the Big E. To my amazement, what I saw was the audience filling not only the arena, but spilling out onto the lawns on either side, hundreds deep, overflowing onto the streets and lining the rooftops of nearby buildings. I felt proud. So proud of our boy! It was a bittersweet moment. Looking at that crowd, then back at the empty stage anticipating your entrance, I felt a bit sentimental. In an instant, the events of the past ten weeks flashed through my mind. Now, I travel that road again and invite you to join me.

My title might be a bit deceiving to the uninitiated, but a true Clay Fan will understand that I did not actually travel with Clay during his Not A Tour, but I feel like I did. I never did the “deadhead” thing when I was young, but I certainly have a better understanding and even an appreciation for them now. From June’s Dover Benefit to September’s final Solo concert, I survived Clay Aiken live ten times. Now, admittedly, that’s clearly no record. I do believe Bob and Linda hold that title. But that’s still a lot of road, a lot of time, and a lot of money. Sometimes, I wish I had a cottage industry like the “deadheads” so I could recoup some of the money I put out for OMC this summer. I could have sold beaded thongs, tie-dye blinkies, Clayhead lanyards, and in place of drugs and drug paraphernalia, plenty of caffeine and sugar laden treats for those long hauls.

As I sit here remunerating and writing about my Summer of Clay, my heart is filled paradoxically with joy and pain at the same time. Joy for the memories I have and pain because it’s over. As many of you, I suffer from Post Clay Concert Disorder. That dread feeling that our days and nights will be a little emptier now. The realization that somewhere between North Dakota and Massachusetts, two and a half months flew by too quickly, much too quickly.

Somewhere in the middle of “This Is The Night,” on a cold night in Springfield, MA that final night, I felt a sudden surge of panic bolt through my body. “Oh! No!” I said to my friend, Theresa. “It’s almost over.” By the time Clay hit that last glory note of “Solitaire,” tears were streaming down my face uncontrollably not just for the beauty of that voice, but because he was about to say good-bye and mean it. There would be no other concert to look forward to. NaT was over. I found myself wondering like many of you, “Whatever am I going to do to fill my spare time” (OK. So, you all know I’m lying about the SPARE time.)

I had gotten used to my little routines: Checking the concert schedule each evening (I’m not a stalker, but I kind of liked knowing where Clay was almost every night) and the routine of getting ready for a concert. I even had my very own Clay “Solo Tour” paraphernalia like the “deadheads” used to. Mine consisted of all the necessary elements for a Clay concert: Member passes, yellow ribbons, BAF buttons, Autism ribbons, concert blinkies, PAClayFan t-shirts, binoculars, digital camera (SShh!), cell phone, claymate phone numbers, directions to the pre-concert party and venue, pennies, sharpie and copy of MOAM (just in case), hotel reservations, credit card, money, and of course, tickets). Or when time, money, or my husband (!) wouldn’t allow me to attend a concert in person, I could always rely on at least a cellcert. Then I’d wake up the next morning furiously searching for Clack!

I would routinely read through those official reviews and live vicariously through the stories told by fans who were “chosen” to sing with Clay or those of the dancers Clay leid! Anxiously scanning the boards for word from those lucky enough to get a Meet & Greet. Waiting for any little tidbit of new information we could gather from pre-concert interview or coax from people who actually met him.

And as frustrating as it was, I was even getting used to that adrenalin rush on the days that tickets went on sale and the frenzy of actually trying to make a purchase. I was getting pretty good at the subtle art of wheeling and dealing for ticket exchanges or just finding Clay fans who were willing to share extra tickets.

And who among us didn’t love the pre-concert parties. Planning them or attending them was almost as much fun as seeing Clay. As much as Clay’s concerts were the highlights of the tour, meeting so many wonderful, generous, talented people was almost as magnificent. Now what, I wondered? What are we going to do now that this tour is over?

What Clay and his band gave me were not just concerts, but moments of time I can stitch together into some sort of remembrance quilt that I will draw around me on those cold and lonely days. Each concert was unique, and each audience holds its own very special memory of that particular venue. First, I will never forget the roller coaster of emotions one Clay concert experience could put me through. The high waiting for that mother ship to open. The anticipation of what new song he would add.

The awe I felt watching his ecstatic face during “You Were There.” The sadness I felt as he slowly sank below the stage back into oblivion until the next concert.

We got to “know” Clay a little bit better too as we saw so many sides of him on the road. We witnessed him passionate, tired, hyper, tender, devilish, serious, joyful, reverent, proud, gentle, humble, snarky, sexy, and, ironically, courageous (Sorry Clay, but how could you let someone catapult you from a human boomerang or drop you 140 feet in the air and be afraid of a kitten and an inch of water)?

Can we forget meeting and almost scaring to death poor Raleigh? Or Clay bringing dorkiness to an art form—the hats, the air instrumentation, the attempts at dancing! Or the glory notes. The growls. Hearing that infectious giggle live. Those toes!

Will any of us forget clamoring anxiously at the buses to catch a glimpse of him wondering if he was wearing our gifts, praying that tonight would be the special night he came over to the crowd to shake hands. The inside jokes that most of us figured out anyway (insert smirk here). Or my favorite memory of all—when he told us in York he loved us. I was choked up, but I saw the real impact of those three little words first hand when the woman sitting next to me burst into tears.

Clay even spawned his own list of concert celebs: Who will forget Clay’s reactions to Robert and Matt and Little Jacob singing This Is The Night.

Little John’s triumphant debut at Caesars. Finally seeing the infamous Linda (of Linda and Bob fame) and her concert shoes when Clay brought her on stage to dance. A little girl who just wanted to pet Raleigh. Mary from Carey leaving the normally gregarious Mr. Aiken almost speechless.

Clay running for his life when Spike pursued him on the stage. Amanda, who finally turned the tables on the last night of the concert and leid Clay! All the infamous Clack dealers whose name will remain anonymous—And on a gloomy day when things are getting me down and I wonder if there is any good still left in this world, my soul will fill, and I will secretly smile remembering a tender first kiss in New Mexico.

I’ll remember with a little bit of embarrassment too, how we tested Jerome’s patience and pestered poor Nick mercilessly (Sorry, we just couldn’t help ourselves!). In essence, Clay and his entourage made us feel like friends of the family. To Clay, his tour family, and newly made friends, bless you all.

So as not to feel too guilty and prove that we did gain something besides pleasure from this summer with Clay, I put together a list of what I learned:

That you can teach an old dog new tricks—I can now read a road map!
That my family can fend for themselves for a weekend
That a seven hour car ride is not long when Clay is at the other end, but a 17 hour wait in the cold IS a long time EVEN WHEN Clay is at the other end
That Clay has a wicked sense of humor
That Jacob gives good sax and apparently has his own fan club
That Jae was shy
That Jerome has the patience of Job but is not to be crossed when it comes to protecting his charge
That Nick really is one of Clay’s best friends and loves seeing him succeed
That Angela and Quiana are much more than back-up singers to Clay
That Danny likes stuffed dogs and S’von is a real man because he can play a two-keyboard solo
That Quiana is a chicken
That every time we think he can’t look any better, he proves us wrong.
That Friends is not spelled F-r-e-i-n-d-s
That “Hug a MOM” and “Hug a HOH” apparently look the same from a stage
That girls will make passes at boys who wear glasses
That certain radio stations are allergic to Clay’s music
That it’s his musk that makes him appealing to us
That neither Clay nor John, nor anyone on his tour for that matter, knows how to hem
That we do not call him Clayton
That Clay is still humbled by our admiration of him
That Jacob throws like a girl, and if we’re honest about it, so does Clay
That a penny here and there can make a big difference
That Clay fans are very creative
That Clay fans can be as snarky as he
That binoculars can come in handy ESPECIALLY in the second row. Freckles, man. Freckles.
That Yeti should never ever wear a bathing suit in public again.
That fresh leis don’t freeze well, Nick
That despite Jerome’s warnings, no one in her right mind is going to take 3 steps back if Clay approaches her at a M & G.
That Clay baby, you really can’t dance!
That Clay gives the best hugs <sigh>
That Clay smells “clean”
That an 80 gig hard drive can fill up mighty quick.
That Angela has “perky” days (You owe him big time girl!)
That we fans can cross the line
That even toes can be sexy
That Motown likes Clay! He really can get funky.
That Clay fans are generous, in more ways than one
That we are the best fans in world
That Clay loves us. He really loves us.

As well as learning many lessons, I grew as a person over the summer. I am usually shy, don’t find it easy to make friends, never travel alone, and am not a person to take chances. Now, I proudly recall how much I loved the road trips with Claymates that I had either never or barely met, navigated my way through the eastern part of the US, made so many friends I can’t count and made a difference.

Ironically, before I could finish this article and my lament over the end of the Solo Tour, Clay stunned us with the announcements of his Christmas Tour dates. We love to see him perform and he loves to perform. So, it seems, the cycle starts all over again. As I imagine what his Christmas tour will bring, I can only expect great things. That he will leave us breathless yet again. So, it’s on the road one more time. And then what?

We have Charlotte and Raleigh to look forward to. A new CD, a book, a Christmas special, a multitude of TV appearances . . . one can only wonder in amazement at what the next chapter is in the career of Clay Aiken – Superstar. I am sad that Nat is over, but I have a feeling more triumphs await Clay. Whatever they are, wherever he goes, we’ll be there, on the road, with him.
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Copyright 2004 by Bonnie Lini Markowski. Printed with the permission of the writer.