Most of you know about my love of Keith Urban and Miranda Lambert. In fact, upon meeting me, it usually comes up in conversation within the first 15 minutes. I regularly get messages and Snaps from family and friends when Keith or Ran win an award, named my first guitar after Keith (Lionel - his middle name) and when Blake and Miranda got divorced, you would’ve thought there was a death in the family based on the condolences I received while on a camping retreat deep in the woods of Wyoming.
But there’s one more artist on par with Keith and Ran in my book, and that fella is Eric Motha Fahking Church. This guy. Let me tell you what. I’ve been a fan since college, if not before. I played the shit out of ‘Hell On The Heart’ on my radio show, Coral’s Country Hour. When 'Record Year' came out I hung some of my dad's old records on my wall in the shape of an arrow. I’ve seen him more than a handful of times and apparently tend to cross state lines by myself when I do.
I have SO many great memories associated with Eric Church shows. CMA fest in Nashville with my cousins, driving from Wyoming to South Dakota and going with South Dakota Steve (who I had just met that day when he brought me Jimmy John’s for lunch), that one time I drove to Illinois on a Wednesday night for a show and slept in my car for two hours until I had to drive back to work the next morning (rough). It’s amazing what can happen after a concert when you stumble upon a neon sign at a midnight and the bartender zaps you a frozen pizza.
And most recently, another great show to add to the roster in Omaha, Nebraska. The impending snowstorm taking over the Midwest hit right as I crossed the border - literally hit as in freezing ice turned the small crack in my windshield into one that now goes all the way across. Bless. I got into town and then bounced around until I found a nice hole in the wall bar to down some fried goods and local beer and Bloody Mary's. I seriously considered buying a round of Fireball shots for the whole place, until (luckily for my wallet) too many people showed up and I thought okay, Coral, not today.
We (as in the whole place, mind you) jammed to some Eric Church tunes from the "jukebox" and the cute ginger guy bartender was a lovely companion (and view) while I enjoyed yet another solo meal at a bar. He even gave me a coin to flip since I couldn't decide which appetizer to get between pretzel bites and mac & cheese bites. The mac & cheese bites won. I checked into my AirBnb, got ready, Ubered to a spot near the venue, downed a shot of Fireball and a Tito’s and Sprite and shuffled my way to the concert. Shuffling was key as the streets were still pretty slick and the tall brunette ahead of me nearly biffed it, twice.
And then the magic began. Well, eventually. There was a delay and the show didn't start until after 8:30 when the scheduled time was 8. But Eric is SO worth the wait. And with no opener, it was going to be a non-stop TAKE ME TO (ERIC) CHURCH helluva good time. Now this is the part where I really dive into how this night morphed itself into a damn near perfect concert experience. Feel free to take notes.
When I choose my seat for a concert, I always pick one in the back. I enjoy having the freedom to roam and move about throughout the show. I choose an aisle seat, one that's not too far away from the stairs so I have easy access to the two most important parts of the venue: the bar and the bathroom. I wasn't feeling my original selected seat in Section 217, Row A, Seat 1, so I decided to move back even further.
I headed up to the very last row and was there for a bit by myself. PTL. I got nervous every time a group of people walked up the stairs because I didn't want them to kick me out of the row I had all to myself. Eventually some folks came up and I really got to know Tessa. Or Theresa. I don't remember and my drunken notes from that evening aren't exactly helpful. It was their first Eric Church concert and I could not have been more thrilled to be their unofficial tour guide through this experience. It made an already special night even more special. Her and her husband were from Utah and they were there with some family and friends. There friends on the other side of the arena came over and it TOTALLY WORKED out that we had the EXACT NUMBER OF PEOPLE in the row as there were seats available. Legitimately blessed, y'all. They were such a sweet, nice group; lots of dancing and fun without getting too rowdy and I'm super glad they weren't a bunch of sticks in the mud. Who you surround yourself with at a concert (and life for that matter) can really effect how it all plays out.
We jammed and jumped and screamed and drank! I got to know the lady at the mini-bar real well. She was sweet and made a bomb-ass Vodka Sprite something with cherry and lime. She was such a champ for being by herself and handled a long line of thirsty Church Choir members like a pro. The bar and the bathroom were conveniently located right next to each other just down the stairs from my seat. Again, blessed.
I probably cried three or four times. Below average for a show like this, but I think having such a fun group next to me helped keep me upbeat throughout the night. And it's not like they were sad tears. Okay, sometimes they're sad, but not bad. I just get emotional during shows and there are certain songs, certain chords that just strum up emotions and feelings in me. I stood the entire time and felt so happy and free and grateful to be immersed in a sea of Springsteen singing, These Boots raising, Hell on the Heart playing and she got a rock, I'm getting stoned good time folks. There was even a USA!USA!USA! chant ringing around the arena following a pledge of allegiance to the Hag.
I made the (probably very wise) choice not to join my new friends for afties at the very bar I had been pregaming at before the show. Instead I hid from the cold in the stairwell for about 45 minutes while the influx of cars died down, grabbed a cardigan from the nearby heater and hopped in an Uber with another cute ginger guy as my driver. (Seriously, Omaha. What is up with the ginger takeover? I love it and I am here for it.)
I debated out loud with him whether I should stay another night or not for round two of the show and decided not to ruin a good thing. He was super sweet and made a lot of good points as to why I should stay and I know I very well could have. I had such a fantastic evening and just wanted to soak in that bliss for awhile. I love road trips, I love concerts and I love creating unique and genuine connections with people. This night had all three and then some. Cheers to three chords and the truth, aisle seats and Eric Motha Fahking Church. And vodka.