Madonna "Part Deux"

July 06, 2006

Page 1 | Page 2

Remember watching the movie "Truth or Dare" as Madonna took her dancers post-show dancing in small, exclusive discos? That was where I wound up last weeek: right on that dance floor with M and her posse.

The night started back at Madison Square Garden as a friend invited Bruce and me as his guests for night deux of Madge's tour. We were sitting directly in front of a sidestage where the lady frequently appears, most notably riding a horse and singing "Like a Virgin." Bruce and I (people call us "Brandy" when we are together -- get it?) were happy for the opportunity to just sit back and watch the show without getting all caught up in it and dancing our faces off. That didn't happen, we were up shaking it all night.

Seated to my right was a nasty mafioso henchman wearing a red silk button down and a frown. He'd brought his slave -- I mean girlfriend or wife -- with him and they were in misery from the moment they arrived. He stood still as a statue until I inadvertantly stepped on his toe during "Sorry" when he physically revolted, pushing me/slamming me into Bruce. I had found the one guy with bad energy in the entire Garden and he was about to pummel me for invading his personal space at a flipping gay-faced Madonna concert. Dancing in place for the rest of the song, I apologized to him after it ended. He responded by raising his finger, and the stakes. "You respect me, and I'll respect you," he warned. "Those are the rules."

The rules! The RULES? There are rules at a Madonna concert? Why was this thug murderer even AT a Madonna concert? Bruce switched seats with me and the guy split in the middle of the concert to beat the pulp out of his companion.

The show was a sweaty triumph all over again. If you're inclined to read more, and lull yourself to sleep, today's New York Times features another classic non-review-review that kind of deconstructs the whole evening and takes all the joy out of the event.

After "Hung Up" thumped away and the lights were turned up, our companion took us to a small gathering that M herself was hosting. Slowly, her dancers started arriving. We talked to all of them, trying to go along with their supercool handshakes and soaking up their energy. They are, of course, having the time of their lives. Who at one point has not wanted to be one of M's dancers? Bruce and I wanted to be them badly.

READ MORE > >