A Note Of Thanks

To the tall queen seated in Section 228, Row D, Seat 17:

I just want to thank you. You, the tall queen seated directly in front of us at Madonna's sold-out concert at Madison Square Garden on Monday night. You, the tall queen with the fauxhawk, the popped collar, the capri pants and flip-flops. You, the spastic tall queen who flailed arythmically and screamed approximately 1500 times during the concert.

I mean, most people would think that for $170 a pop, we in Section 228 would be more than happy with just seeing Madonna's onstage carnival: her part Cirque du Soleil, part roller-disco, part strip-club melange of krumping, parkour, strobing video montages, and numerous half-naked muscle boys.

But not you, Tall Queen. No, you decided that we in Section 228 deserved a special show of your own, fueled by (by our count) about 8 glasses of white wine and spurred on by the approval of your much younger Latino date. So for the 100 times you screamed before the house lights even went down? Thank you. For calling out to your friends on the other side of the arena and jumping up and down and screaming because they could actually SEE YOU from 300 feet away? Thank you. That was totally awesome that they could see you from over there!

Hey Tall Queen, do you remember that sort of elderly obese man that was seated to your left? The one wearing the red string on his wrist? My friend and I had named him Mr. Pinky. You know, from Hairspray? Mr. Pinky didn't really seem to be happy to be at Madonna, I mean, he hardly even stood up! What's up with that? Maybe the temple made him attend? Anyway, on behalf of Mr. Pinky, thank you, Tall Queen, for providing him with an upclose and graphic look at homo-lovin'. Straddling your date in his seat in a reverse cowgirl and humping him? That was awesome! Licking your date all over his face and screaming into his open mouth? Also awesome.

And thank you, Tall Queen, for calling everybody in your cellphone directory and screaming "AAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!" to them. I bet they loved that. You know they were jealous bitches because you were at Madonna and they weren't. I was so jealous myself, because you must have at least 200 friends in your directory! We didn't mind at all, your screaming when Madonna was talking. Or your screaming when she was singing. Or your screaming continuously during those curious long periods in which she wasn't even on the stage. Seriously, that was awesome. We didn't mind not hearing her. Hey, did you know that you screamed exactly 49 times during the 6 minutes of La Isla Bonita? For real! We were counting! By the way, we decided that La Isla Bonita must have been Mr. Pinky's favorite song. He was totally snapping his fingers!

But at least Mr. Pinky could keep the beat! Seriously, Tall Queen, as awesome as I'm sure you know that you are, you really do need to look into something called "keeping the beat". Did you know that all those thousands of times you were clapping your hands over your head (while screaming, of course) that you never once clapped on the beat? Although, come to think of it.... statisically speaking, you should have accidentally clapped on the beat at least once or twice every minute. Ok, yeah, forget I said anything. I've lost my mind. All that bad rhythm? Definitely awesome!

By the way, Tall Queen? Did you like that video montage where they intercut photos of famous dictators? Idi Amin, Kim Jong-Il, Adolf Hitler and then George Bush? And then when Madonna ad-libbed during I Love New York that "If you don't like New York, you can suck George Bush' dick"? I figured you liked that because that's when you turned around and grabbed your crotch and screamed "SUCK MY DICK!" Which was awesome. Tall Queen, I hope that all six or seven times that Madonna berated the crowd for having low energy, you KNOW she wasn't talking about you, right? Like when she said, "You are some tired motherfucking assholes!", she totally did not mean you.

I hope you don't mind that I stepped up into the aisle to take this picture of you. I waited until you had your hands down and were between screams, because we wanted to remember you. I mean, since your screaming and flailing and bad dancing and boyfriend-macking were far more a part of our experience than anything Madonna and her dozen dancers were doing. So thank you, Tall Queen. Madonna: Good. But YOU? Awesome!