Bon Ladies

So last night, while the Smelmooo and Jenni were working their front-row seats at BNL, two of my sisters and I were rocking out, two rows from the back, at the Bon Jovi show. I have to say, I was a little jealous -- I love BNL, especially live -- but it was a good bonding time with my sisters, and those Jersey boys put on a good show themselves. Plus, I got to cross another thing off my list.

My sisters and I discussed the possibility of teasing our hair and wearing stirrup pants, but we didn't feel like putting forth the effort in the end and, really, plenty of other people at the show went down that road (most of them, I think, not as a joke for the one night). But it was quite a mix, from teeny-boppers to senior citizens snoozing during the final encore (Dead or Alive, with Jon wearing his Philadelphia Soul jersey -- the fourth top he wore, all with caramel-colored leather pants).

I loved the chemistry between Jon and Richie (wearing his wedding band, for those of you gossip-mongers); I loved how much fun those guys were having and how much energy they had, even though they're all getting up there, even after more than two hours straight of playing and dancing. And Jon was running around through the crowd, singing the opening song and Blaze of Glory from different parts of the arena while the band stayed onstage. And every time he ran through the crowd to get to his new spot, I held my breath a little and got a little knot in my stomach, because I was sure he was going to get mobbed or that something bad would happened. I'm totally neurotic, I know, but I just breathed a huge sigh of relief every time he made it back to the stage unscathed.

After the show, once we finally made it downstairs from the nosebleed section, everyone had to pee before our 90-minute drive home. The woman in front of us on the bathroom line repeated about every 45 seconds the following story: "He walked right past me, and I grabbed his leg, and the security guard punched me in the ribs! But then the guy behind me punched the security guard! Can you believe it? Punched me in the ribs! But I got to touch his leg."

Reason #423 that I could not be a rock star: unwanted touching.

I love my sisters and rarely get to spend quality time my second-oldest sister, who has three kids, so it was tons of fun to take a brief little road trip to Philly and a longer trip down memory lane as we sang along to Bon Jovi CDs in the car, reminiscing about the Siblings Weekends the three of us enjoyed at Villanova in the 80s, dancing around in Kathy's dorm room to Livin' on a Prayer (I had a very fancy rhythmic gymnastics routine). And it's nice to catch up on who we are now -- I think there's a tendency -- for me, anyway -- to put my family members into nice little shorthand buckets that are largely holdovers from the roles we played growing up. So I'm always happy for a reality check during grown-up time, to reconnect and get to know these women today even better, for all our history. And to dance like a fool to '80s music.

And who knows...maybe next time, we'll get lucky as lucky as the Smelmooo, and be close enough to get punched in the ribs.