When I got to the theater around 5:30 p.m., it was closed tight as a drum. I kept on taking hits on my mango iced tea, while strolling around the block. The theater was in a warehouse district, close to the bay. Finally, in an alley next to the stage entrance I saw two two women talking. One was black, tall, and very beautiful; the other had her hair tied back in a bun, wore no makeup, and weighed maybe 90 pounds. She looked very ordinary, but somewhat familiar. They were both cursing up a storm. For a moment, I thought they were hookers. But I walked over to the skinny one and asked, "Do you have any idea when the box office will open?". "Haven't a clue," she answered. Haven't a clue, I repeated softly and wandered away. Still, she did look hauntingly familiar. Where had I seen her before?

Around 6 p.m., three men showed up in the box office, looking very hip. I walked over and asked one of them if they had done the sound checks yet. "They're doing that right now," was his response. So I asked if I could go inside and listen. He seemed to hesitate, and I dropped one of my business cards on the counter. "Oh, you have credentials", he remarked. "OK, go through the gate and into the alley, past the equipment trucks; you can stand in the doorway, but don't go inside, or I'll get into trouble." I thanked him and wandered back. The skinny 90-pounder was smoking a cigarette in the alley, outside the stage door. She gave me a big smile, which I returned. How strange, she seemed so familiar. Where the devil had I seen her? The keyboard and guitars were cranking up. Suddenly she threw away the cigarette and brushed past me as she went inside. Then I heard this incredible voice, full of power and control, flowing like a torrent into the sound system. I just had to see who was producing this amazing sound. So I stepped inside, right up to the edge of the stage. It was then I realized that Milla, who was dressed in black and white retro-Keds, blue jeans, and a red T-shirt with gold lettering that said "Gay Love is Beautiful", and who weighed about 90 pounds at most, was both the person who "hadn't a clue" when the box office would open, and the source of that wonderful sound! So I had missed a chance to chat with her, not once but twice! I couldn't believe it. I listened for about half an hour, then walked over to where my car was parked a block away, fetched the half-dozen roses and her Divine Comedy CD that I had left there, and walked back to the stage entrance, forgetting that I might be missing the tickets at the box office out front. She went through about six sets, pausing to adjust the levels and talking with the musicians.

After about an hour backstage, I made the mistake of asking someone standing there about ticket availability, and got politely kicked out. They were almost done anyway. I stood by the box office chatting with a group of people about Tori Amos. Most all adored her, but nobody had any tickets to see her, either in San Diego or elsewhere. Then Milla walked around to the front of the theater, and people gathered around her. Finally, I was talking with her. I handed her the roses (two had died and been unceremoniously tossed), and said that I hoped her career was doing better than these flowers! She laughed and thanked me. She seemed touched. Then I apologized for not recognizing her earlier, promised that would never happen again, and asked if she'd sign the inside of her album with something funny, or "anything you'd like", I added. So she wrote, "To: Joel HA HA! LOVE, Milla" and drew a happy face.

The concert was almost an after-thought. It started at 8 p.m. with Gregory Page, a local song-writer, guitarist, and vocalist. I counted 50 people in the 250-seat Hahn Cosmopolitan Theater. He was good. Funny, satiric, with a powerful voice. He had just signed a recording contract. and was followed by two other guys who were in a band that Gregory played with; they clowned around, finished at 8:45 p.m., and for another 45-minutes we waited while the theater filled up, probably to over 200 people. Then the 4 band members who accompanied Milla strolled out, and started to play a Blue Goat, a Swedish melody. One of the instruments was a Swedish keyed-violin, something I had not seen played before. There were also a guitars, a bass and a keyboard. Without introduction, Milla wandered as if in a dream onto the stage, moving gracefully, and started to sing Ruby Lane. She had changed to a wide black skirt with embroidered daisies, and mumms in yellow and orange and white down the front in a cascading pattern, a pink cut-off pullover which stopped above her naval, and the same black and white retro-Keds I had seen before. Her hair was loose and long, and I noticed that she wasn't wearing a bra. She had put on lipstick, a little mascara, a diamond choker cross, a diamond bracelet, a Rolex watch, and that was it. I was in the third row center. Nobody seemed to breathe. There was absolutely no sound from the audience. When she finished, there were waves of wild applause. She giggled, looked embarrassed, joked about the microphone, and went into Charlie, followed by Gentleman Who Fell. She was wonderful. It was a great concert! I really felt thrilled to be there. An hour passed like it was minutes. She left the stage, came back for a single encore in which she did a Russian Folk balled in Russian called In a Glade. It is my favorite song from her album. I knew somehow that she would save it as an encore. Then it was over.

I walked over to Cybil's Down Under Club on the next block, waited for my pizza to arrive which I had ordered before the concert, but didn't have time to wait for, watched the bouncers frisk the patrons in line before they entered, and sipped my second and third Merlot waiting for the pizza. It was a great night and good preparation for seeing Tori. My pulse had only shot up to 140 when I was talking with Milla, but mostly I had kept my cool. So I should do fine when Tori performs here next month.