This first in my trilogy of David Cook De-Tour concerts took place in Duluth Minnesota at the DECC (Duluth Entertainment and Convention Center)...and was the very same venue in which I had experienced my David Archuleta concert (blogged here) just four months before. I loved that and found it to have a certain symmetry perfectly designed for one called Archucookie.
I must first report that Kioat and I are sisters and that I cannot imagine another person in the world I would rather have been with on this adventure. Kioat and I share five brothers and have eleven years separating us. Growing up, our tastes were not at all the same and we argued over which TV program to watch. I wanted Casey Jones, a local kiddie/cartoon show, and she wanted to watch American Bandstand. When I was seven, I was flower girl in Kioat’s wedding. Then she moved to Arizona and I grew up with sporadic but loving sister time. When my turn came to get married, Kioat stood beside me as matron of honor. As adults, we rediscovered each other and found we had many things in common. Today we share a fascination with David Cook, his band, and all of our new friends on DCO. When it was announced that the De-Tour was coming to Minnesota, and that it coincided with Kioat’s annual July pilgrimage to the homeland, we planned our road trips.
Pre-concert Preperations
The Friday previous to concert night, Kioat came to my house for an overnight stay. We planned a concert clothes shopping trip and other important things like what color to paint our nails. We discussed fan behavior and how we intended to conduct ourselves in the event we had a Dave/EEB encounter of the first, second, or even third kind. We were over the whole *cough* demographic issue and knew we just wanted to have a good time without making fools of ourselves. We wanted no part in stalking, puffy pink painted shirts or signs nor anything that suggested needy recognition. We also had no wishes for ponies, but would accept any gifts providence would provide. Then we caught up on the prolific DWoP and as the hour got late, we got into a fit of the giggles and found ourselves to be quite amusing indeed. Kioat then said, “That’s it. If, in the unlikely event we should bump into any of the guys, all I want is to make them laugh.” I agreed. We wanted nothing more than the awesomeness of their concert and the only thing we could ever give in return would depend on our wits.
Then we remembered the warnings of Bling and Dave Trance and how normally intellegent, polished, and articulate people can be reduced to forgetting their own name. Ah well. We would never run into them anyway, but at least we had a guideline.
Road Trip & Reconnaissance
The sisters woke up at the crack of dawn and donned their cool new T-shirts with DwoP sayings courtesy of MsDarcy. We packed up, stopped to get cash and coffee and hit the road for our 2&1/2 hour trip up to Duluth. I insisted we begin our first listen to DCTR with track 9, because...”Today’s not the same as every day; it’s far from ordinary.” We enjoyed our first leg and after we heard all of the tracks, I introduced Kioat to a couple of Archie songs. Yes, I do own DATR, so there. We stopped for breakfast and included a listen to “Love” a Beatles experience of mixed songs used by the Vegas show Cirque du Soleil, which Dave has seen twice. Once with the others of Idol top 4 and then later with the EEB.
Though my dh had warned me of booking a motel in downtown Duluth, I knew the area was more “Lake Wobegone” than “Axe-murderville.” The town still has roads of red brick and flower filled window boxes on nearly every shop. Even Archie from his stepford children’s town in Utah learned a few things about Minnesota Nice in Duluth. I had my maps and knew which streets were one way and how to manuver. Even the road construction didn’t throw me as we only have two season’s up here...the other one is called winter.
We checked in and made our way to Canal Park where all the festivities would take place. We made a reconnaissance loop around the huge DECC which includes the parking ramp, many square feet of conference room, an Imax, a sports arena, and THE auditorium. As we rounded the back side we had the splendor of Lake Superior to our right and a shiny silver bus to our left. Guess which one we gawked at? Then the automatic pilot setting on the car kicked in and MADE me turn left into the adjoining drop off/10 minute parking lot...just for research purposes. As we slowly made a drive by, Kioat got the camera for a quick snap as a visual for our report. Then I saw Kyle and Kioat saw Neal. I also noticed the DECC security giving me the stink eye and I pulled forward...ruining *sob* Kioat’s picture eviden..er, ah, visual aides.
Like good little fans, we decided to move on and went to explore more of the Canal Park area. We knew the boy’s might get hungry and wondered where they might go to have lunch. Famous Dave’s seemed a little too obvious if not down right ironic, but we thought Hell’s Kitchen might intrigue Neal. We then checked out Grandma’s Saloon & Grill, a popular place to eat and socialize. We weren’t hungry but decided to scope out the tables and bar area for friends. Several tables contained happy looking ladies and we passed them while calling out “Bacon?” but without success. We then walked several yards to the lake and took in the sights of strolling people, some walking out to the lighthouse and others watching the ariel lift bridge move up to let boats move through the channel. The area was perfect for...say, walking a little Scottie dog...if one were so inclined. We then toured the maritime museum but quickly got bored, though we knew our mom would have loved it. We then went to Grandma’s latest addition, a sports garden bar and grill and I thought, ‘Hey! What better place than this would catch David’s eye?’ I was later to read that I was right and Dave did luncheon there, but apparently not when we were passing through like goobers intermittently calling out “bacon?” We knew we were overstaying our Grandma parking time and moved on down the road and found another thirty minute parking spot and decided to stroll along the lake shore. Lo and behold...we found ourselves back at the back of the auditorium...
OK...we totally stalked the bus area...but I swear...we worshipped from afar and made no attempts to peer in windows nor listen at doors. We maintained a respectable (and lawful, according to the court order) distance. Then we noticed that there was access to the venue right where we had done our round about. So we crossed the street, went in, climbed up one flight, saw the Cook Concert posters, chatted with the ticket lady, used the ladies room, and found the outdoor patio area that looked right down over...Dave R Cook...helping with the equipment. We knew it was Dave. You don’t watch hundreds of Youtubies without recalling every curve of his arms, each tilt of the neck, and recognize how he moves. He was wearing a plaid shirt and BB cap and was vigorously employing his work ethic. Beth would be so proud of him. We were.

Now that we knew where we were going to spend our between acts and after show time, we sensibly decided to leave the boys to their work.
We went back to the motel for a couple hours, caught a quick nap, then gussied up for the concert.
We drove to the DECC parking ramp and made the long walk past the arena and were amused to find painted on the floor a sort of rainbow leading us to the auditorium. We then exited the back way, waved toward the bus, stopped at a shop for a jacket (Kioat has thin Arizona blood), and then walked to grandma’s for dinner. Sated and content and with time to spare, we found ourselves back at our favorite spot on the patio overlooking the bus area. We saw a little Scottie on a leash and I decided to capture a few seconds on the video cam. Then we saw a couple exit the building below us. The man had a tripod and large camera and the pretty woman had a clipboard and/or writing pad. I remembered a link on the DWoP about an exclusive interview, so I called down to them as I filmed. “How did the interview go?” They stopped and looked up. The woman seemed a little surprised but turned to face us. “Did it go well?” I asked. “Yes,” she answered. Kioat joined in, “Was he charming?” She confirmed what we already knew. I called down that we looked forward to reading her report. She thanked us and I stopped filming her. Soon...IT WAS TIME!
The Concert Itself
I had decided to tape the show. I remembered that at Archie’s show, the venue asked us to not use flash photography and banned professional videography. So I was disappointed to see posted on the doors several notices saying NO VIDEO OR AUDIO RECORDING OF THIS SHOW. I guess I would just have to try on the sly.
We found our seats in row K of the center section. It was a perfectly fine distance from the stage. The floor is slanted to attempt a stadium effect. However, I am 5 foot 2 and Kioat is 5 foot even and right in front of us was an amazon woman. Need to Breathe managed to get us on our feet once and I could see (not see?) there was going to be a problem (dammit.) Kioat was on my right and had a tall man two rows in front of her also causing viewing blockage. We wished we had brought something to raise us up a few inches. To the left of me sat two very pretty ladies I will call salt and pepper because one was blonde and the other brunette. They were also very soused. Salt was grinning like a fool and slurred, “We should totally dance.” Then she demonstrated how this could be done. She was so cute and happy that I just replied, “Heck yeah!”
Next we encountered Debbie the Camera Dick. Part of Debbie’s standard issue was a flashlight and an authoritative attitude. She shined that thing several times down our row. She struck pay dirt two rows behind us and lectured loudly the implicit rules regarding flash cameras. I was checking out my videocam and Debbie came breathing down my neck about the other rule. Drawing on a fellow DWoPer’s experience, I informed Debbie the Dick that my little vcam also had a still photo function. Her mouth agape, she seemed momentarily flustered at my assertive dismissal. I do believe she clicked her heels before retreating.
N2B were good, though I, too, found the constant guitar swapping between songs distracting. Still they played well and had a good sense of humor. They were southern boys and recalled the last time they were in Duluth with 3 feet of snow outside. They was askeered and thought they were all gonna die. They had a very moving final song, which Salt and Pepper rudely giggled through.
We took our break outside and smiled and nodded to fellow concert goers and enjoyed the fresh lake air. One lady pegged me as a friendly sort and offered a buck for just one cigarette. Of course I shared, but refused the dollar. She insisted, but I adamantly refused payment. Then she asked for a light and I told her, “Now that’s gonna cost ya,” and snatched the bill from her hand. I got my laugh and stuffed it back in her pocket. We were all keyed up and found our way back to our seats in plenty of time.
The lights went out and then we heard the strains of...Gordon Lightfoot’s “The Edmund Fitzgerald.” We roared our approval to the honor done to our Lake Gitche Gumee and the tale of a great lakes cargo ship that was lost.
AND THEN....there.they.were. Our guys kickin’ it with KOTN. If I stood on tiptoe, I could see our Dave and Kyle was nice and high up behind him. If I bobbed, I could see Andy and if I weaved I could see Neal. Our Joey moved around enough for me to catch him fairly often.
Now I must tell you that I had long looked forward to a great romantic time on this my virgin concert. Soon, I realized I may have been taken to a sleezy motel. NOT because of DC & the EEB...it was...(shudder) the others. Amazon woman began to have flatulence issues and I had to fan the air in front of me in order to breathe. Salt to my left began to poke me and grin drunkenly. I tried to get just a few seconds of Dave’s face on tape and Debbie the Dick was on me like a duck on a june bug. “You were taping and I need you to give me your camera now.” I just shook my head and shrugged my shoulders innocently, reiterating my still photo functions. Debbie was having none of it. “I saw the record light on and you need to give it to me now.” I tried to simply put it away, but Debbie was taking her job very seriously and asked me if she needed to call her supervisor. I decided that our little exchange had gone on long enough and I did not want to further intrude on my fellow concert goers enjoyment, so I surrendered my camera and accepted the blue ticket that would later let me spring it from the impound lot.
About this time, Flatulent Francine let us know that perhaps she had refried beans for dinner and Kioat nearly gagged, it was sooooo bad.
Salt had disappeared and Pepper informed me her friend was drunk and then took the opportunity to share her life story with me. She had just divorced after six years of marriage. “He cheated on me,” she confided. Though I really just wanted to get back to my favorite rock group, I responded. “Oh, dear. That’s too bad.” Did I mention I was raised Minnesota Nice? “He was a cop,” she sadly bemoaned then nodded as though that explained it all. I mentioned joining a support group and I think we now have a date for lunch on Sunday. Dave shared his all star and baseball love and said that our team, the Twins, were his second favorite team. He also assured us he didn’t just feed that line to the Chicago fans and we believed him. Salt returned and started poking me again and grinning and dancing. She was so very, very, happy. It’s too bad she won’t ever remember it.
Francine let another one rip and my eyes started to water.
I decided I NEEDED to tune out everything around me and focus on Dave and the guys. Soon they began to work their magic. In addition to several of our standard favorites, we got lots of song goodies like Straight Ahead and Yo Arms. I got my pony Lie and Kioat got her’s with Mr. Sensitive. At some point (after BBS?), I got to hear Dave tell us that he had gone to the driving range that morning. I slapped my forehead. Way back when he had cancelled the Fargo show, I had boasted that he wanted to get to Duluth early so we might golf together. (We now know it was due to the all star game) Dammit. I must have missed my pm notification about the tee time. Dave went on to share how wonderful his egg sandwich at the range was and turned to Andy. “Skibby! What did you have?”
Andy let us know that he had a breakfast burrito. Dave asked how it was and Skibby said it was better than his egg sandwich. Competitive Dave kicked in and he decided to let the audience decide which they thought was the better selection. Of course, David won.

And then there was Barbasol...
Kyle got our heartbeats in sync, the guitars joined, and we knew what to do even before Dave asked if we were ready for it. ONE-TWO-THREE-and-BANG! I got all bouncy Archucookie and began looking for my stripper pole. Dave had it. He ran his face up it. He may have even licked it. He stroked it...caressed it...up and down...with his big strong hands. I think I stripped. Then I heard a manly growl about being sold and spun... and I don’t think he was gonna take it anymore. Then...Dave really heated things up and his hips began to sway and keep time...pounding in rhythm. He had his way with me and I knew...I was a virgin no more.
I was gone. Kioat was gone. We sang and we rocked out, making senseless finger gestures in the air as Kaydeecee had role-modeled for us. We knew every word, joined each head bang, thrilled to each Joey Jump. I remember pointing to Dave to let him know he was still standing, and yes—God help me—I made heart hands when he told me I could keep his as a Souvenir. We got Windy and I cried...’cause like his songs often make us do...I have attached a personal interpretation to a wayward loved one. When they left the stage, we cheered ourselves hoarse to bring them back. It seemed terribly long until they returned for the encore. I waved my cellphone lit picture of my granddaughter to Light On and forgave him for flubbing another line. Pepper had disappeared, though Salt had been banging into me relentlessly. She tried to grab my hand for the final song, but I was having no more of her shenanigans. She didn’t know proper Adam singing conduct, but Kioat and I sure did. We Whoa-whoa-ed our arms and sang our part loud and proud...up on our aching tippy toes. And then...it was over. Our ears hurt, our throats were sore, and we were as happy as clams.
Post Show
I took my little blue ticket to one of the ladies wearing a plastic DECC card on a rope around her neck and asked her where they kept all the naughty cameras. She pointed and told me to go over there...in the corner...how appropriate.
I met another lady there and asked if my camera was the only one who had to take a time out and she humorlessly informed me that the others had already come and gone. Sheeesh, people. Lighten up already. You can’t harsh my buzz and I was NOT gonna come down, down off a them clouds....
We worked our way outside and saw a goodly number of fans loitering by the bus. Kioat and I looked on amused, but felt no compulsion to join them. We also had nowhere we had to be and the night was young...by our standards. We were quite content to bathe in the afterglow and smile as parents and husbands showed up to pick up their little rocker girls.
Then we met...Albertha. (cue sinister music...like Dragnet’s “Dummm-da-dum-dum”) Imagine, if you will, your worst nightmare of poor fan behavior...now double it and it will still not come close to describing...Albertha. She sat on the stairway next to us and informed us she couldn’t go down...there. She was quite large and on top of that she was pregnant and seemed to be gasping for breathe from sitting still. She let us know that her teen daughter (probably the one with “Me + Dave=Permanant” painted on the back of her shirt) was down there waiting for Dave. We mentioned that he might not come out at all, but she let us know that she knew he would. She thought herself quite the authority...til Kioat and I dazzled her a bit with our Dave knowledge. Then she started getting a little huffy and impatient with Dave for not coming out yet. “He better hurry up and get out here,” she grumbled. “IF, he comes out,” I countered. “I never say ‘IF’,” she growled. “I’m way too positive a person for that.” “Well,” Kioat explained, “He doesn’t always.” Albertha, however, knew all and boomed, “I was just here to see the WWF and they ALL came out and signed autographs for us.” I wasn’t surprised to hear about her love of the WWF and waited to hear about the tractor pull event she also witnessed. I decided this would go badly if we continued to engage in conversation, so Kioat and I kept to each other and smiled down at the group below, who were behaving quite nicely and minding the security people. Then Albertha said, “Dave better come out. It’s the least he could do for us for waiting all this time and...” Well...them’s fightin’ words for me. “Dave doesn’t owe us ANYTHING,” I responded rather firmly, “other than a good concert.” Albertha didn’t wait for me to finish before she started in again on her entitlement. So I recognized a lost cause and went back to actively ignoring her.
Then...Dave came out. About fifty girls and guys, young and not so, got excited as instructional Dave seemed to be going over the signing & picture taking etiquette. Kioat and I were smiling and still content to stay right where we were until....
“DAVE!!” A huge and masculine voice boomed out. It was a barge voice, a Big Bertha Fog Horn...and it startled the crap out of us. Albertha had come and stood RIGHT NEXT TO US and belted, “DAVE..I LOVE YOU, DAVE!” It was very deep and very LOUD and it carried out across Lake Superior...I even think I saw it raise the Edmund Fitzgerald for a moment. Even worse...Dave looked up. Noooooooo...I thought. We are NOT with her. Kioat had had enough and told me, “Let’s get the heck out of here.” The only way was down the stairs and toward the crowd of hopefuls. Behind us I heard the channeling of fat Albert with a “Hey, hey, hey,” and we got askeerd. Albertha was now in a world of her own and on a mission. “I just gotta get down there,” she said, “I just love Dave.” As we scampered away she cleared a berth in the crowd and thought it neccesary to inform Dave that she was gonna have a baby anytime. Dave kept his head down signing for another but politiely responded that he hoped she would hold off for a bit. This was enough for the entitled one to get herself on up there to Dave for a good ol’ hug. I think she knocked over several children doing so. But Albertha wasn’t done yet and said she thought she might name the baby “Dave...or Cook....or Eta...” Dave knew cooties too and moved on to another fan. “Hey Dave,” boomed Albertha, “remember when blah, bla-blah-bla-diddly-de-blah?” When there was no response, she finally withdrew mumbling, “Well. I guess he’s done talkin’ to ME.” As there was now a vacancy and Kioat and I were already there, we took the opportunity to have a peek at close-up Dave as he signed and smiled and gave sweet and sincere hugs to his happy, happy, fans. Then he said, “Hey. I got a story to share with you.” And he scanned the crowd with his eyes. “I was in Chicago and this guy came and sprayed some red stuff all over my boots. Then he offered to clean them...for eight bucks each.” I could hear the crickets chirping and wondered if they were all in bling trance. “Well,” I said, “That’s Chicago for ya.” Dave glanced up at me. “I know, right?” he said.
(Later, of course, Kioat and I would think of much more clever things we might have said, like...”Not the elf boots, I hope” or “Hmmm. I would have thought he’d of charged $13 each.) Anyway, we had engaged so I figured “in for a penny in for a pound” and I opened my purse to get my DCTR. I pulled out the insert and held it out for him to sign...which he did. Then after he signed for another fan, I handed him a CD Case. He looked at the red cover and picture of David Archuleta looking at him and said, “Heeey.” “Ooops,” I said taking it back, “Sorry. Wrong one.” Dave stopped, stepped one foot back, folded his arms and gave me one of these looks with perhaps a hint of a smile as the crowd laughed. Then Kioat saved me by handing Dave her DCTR saying, “I’ve got the right one.” As Dave signed Kioat’s insert, I thought I could now retreat and let others in, but Dave wasn’t done with me yet. “I’ll still sign that, if you want.” “You will?” I think I squeaked and handed him back my DATR. “Yeah,” he said, “but I might sign his name. No better yet, I think I’ll sign it ‘Michael Johns.’” He began to write on my Archie insert and said, “That reminds me. How many of you have bought the new Michael Johns and Brook White Albums?” Again with the crickets responding...so I piped up, “It’s next on my to do list, Dave.” This got me another direct eye contact look. He closed my cd and gave it back to me. I said, “Thanks. I really do love both of you guys.” “Yeah-yeah,” he said. “It’s all good.” The next thing I remember, I am in his arms. I’m not quite sure how it happened and it felt like more than a hug to me. It felt like Dave was holding me--firmly, sincerely, and without reservation. In the brevity of the ethereal experience, I remember smelling either Lake Superior or new shirt smell with a hint of all star musk. (not that I sniffed or anything) In the space of a moment...or twenty minutes (someone should really let me know which it was) I thought of my son and how likely it was that he would take a brand new shirt and wear it straight from the pack. Dave’s red and white striped shirt felt soft and I felt my hand give his back a pat-pat-pat, which communicated everything I wanted to say. It said, ‘I’m proud of you...like a friend...like a mom.
Then Dave Trance set in. My eyes widened as my brain registered—I was just in David F-ing (I let him borrow Neal’s middle initial) Cook’s arms. He was looking at me. “See ya in Menomanomana,” I said, not knowing how to pronounce the name of our next concert city. I got another, “Yeah-yeah.” Kioat reports that I tightly clutched my two cd’s and wandered away from the group and headed back toward the building. “Where ya going?” she asked. I guess I mumbled something about needing some light to read what Dave wrote me. David was still out there...and I totally left!!! Dave Trance is some powerful sh!t y’all. Kioat followed me into the building and down the exit corridor to the magic rainbow painted on the floor. I opened my red CD and saw under Archie’s picture, “This isn’t me. David Cook.” I guess he didn’t want me getting confused anymore.
Half way to the car I realized I had left. “Do you want to go back?” I asked Kioat. "Sometimes Neal or the other guys come out.” But she said no and then asked if I was OK to drive. I assured her that—of course I was, which I totally wasn’t but we made it back safe to the motel. Once in our room, we took the time to squeee a bit and smile a lot, reliving the moments for a couple more hours. I decided to have a peek at my vid footage only to discover that Debbie the Dick had confiscated my cassette film. Oh well. It was all just part of the grand adventure and providence had left me many gifts. I’m ready for the next road trip. Are we there yet?