This weekend marks yet another annual Hanson Day (which is actually 2 days) event. It is a (mostly) free event that Hanson does every year for members of the fan club. As a Tulsan, I have the luxury of attending every year for very little expense. All it really costs me is my time and some foot and back pain. People come from literally all over the world for this, though. Yesterday I saw license plates from Texas, Minnesota, Virginia and New York. I have encountered Australians, Brits, and there is always a contingent from Brazil.
One thing you are no stranger to as a "Fanson" is waiting. Normally everything runs on "Hanson time" as they like to call it. I've actually been pleasantly surprised this year that they have actually been running close to schedule. Even so, you spend a LOT of time waiting in line. I waited 30 minutes to register, and 90 minutes to go in the pop-up store to give them my money. Then there was another 60 in the meet & greet photo line. And of course, each of those events took only 2-10 minutes. I didn't have to wait in line for the art gallery! Huzzah! Then there was the line for the lectures. I learned long ago, especially at the Cain's Ballroom where these are typically held, that there's not a lot of point in trying to be in the front. It's not that big, and you can see well from pretty much anywhere. It's rather freeing, because it meant for the afternoon lectures I could enjoy the breeze in the shade and read my book instead of sitting in line in the direct sunlight.
So, why do we do it? I'm not sure if it's because I'm older, because I've done it so many times now, or what, but I will admit that the shine has worn off a bit for me. Yet I still go every year. Admittedly, part of what makes it a little less fun for me is that I go by myself. Only once have I had somebody to attend with, and of course that was the year that I was sick as a dog and lost my voice so we couldn't even talk about it.
The thing is, I love these guys. I've spent the whole of my adult life connecting to their music. In the movie of my life, the montage of my growing up would be set to it. If I could go back in time and tell my 18-year-old self that this is what I was going to spend this weekend doing, she probably would have peed herself in excitement. I guess there's a part of me that keeps hoping that I'll get that feeling again. So I go, hoping that today is the day that I get that giddy feeling again.