that time i met michelle obama

whoa.

before we get to the music news, let me tell you about that time i met michelle obama.

last saturday, my friend emily invited me along for the kind of adventure you should never say no to. “you wanna meet michelle obama?” she said. 

as the whole world knows, michelle obama has a new book out. beyond her extraordinary story, the tour for the book is also extraordinary - big sports arenas, the kind of rooms that hold championships and have witnessed the excellence of highest athletic achievements. i couldn’t think of a more fitting hall for michelle.

as with any celebrity industrial complex, there was alot of waiting involved. one hour in one line before our coats and phones were taken away, then another hour in another line. finally, a pat down and wand by the secret service. but rather than being tiring or boring, the lines to see michelle obama were as beautiful as the moment itself.

everyone wore their best clothes. church folks with elaborate lady suits. men in bright ties and dark blazers. a couple kids, for once happily tucking their shirts in and straightening their ties. old school lesbians with their striped button downs and crisp black jeans, short hair gel-ed to sharp spikes of perfection. everyone was turned out! while we’d been instructed not to wear any clothing with messages or brands on it, everyone chose to dress up of their own accord. an unspoken agreement, it seemed like exactly the right thing to do.

trump hung in the air, but no one spoke of him by name lest we spoil the joy and excitement that was building.

everyone waiting had their own reasons to want to meet michelle. federal employees inspired by her service. professional fans from london. parents who wanted their children to meet a first lady. someone as famous as michelle obama has a proximity effect that has nothing to do with her actual, living self. she is your newspaper headline come to life. your instagram or facebook scroll animated, now standing right in front of you. or better yet, hugging you. we all wanted to get closer.

as we finally approached the step & repeat where we’d meet her and have our pictures taken, we could see the folks who had just met her exiting. faces were bright with excitement. there were tears, overwhelm, laughter, shoulders shaking with joy. people collapsed into each other in relief and disbelief. they had just met michelle obama!

a drape parted, and we got our first glimpse of her. michelle obama is tall. not just tall in relation to me, but to everyone. there she was, towering over us, her 5’11” accentuated with silver platform heels peeking out from under her brash pink floral pantsuit.

emily and i handed over the little index cards with our names printed on them. 

“this is emily, this is erin,” an assistant said. “hello emily! hello erin!” michelle obama said. then she hugged us. 

“did she ask for consent?” a friend asked me later, knowing i don't always like hugs with or without consent.

i laughed. for all my scrupulous care in most situations, i had thrown that care out the window with michelle obama, awed by her celebrity but also prepared by her self-styled reputation as hugger-in-chief.

emily and i had discussed before what we might say when we finally met michelle obama. we agreed that we should keep it short and sweet, mindful that we’d have less than 15 seconds with her.

“thank you for your work,” we both said. 

 “hold for two pictures,” the photographer said.

and then it was over. now we were the faces bright with excitement. i wanted to cry from the sheer wattage of the interaction. she was beautiful! she was strong! we got a picture.

as i expected, the picture is what people flipped out over the most, blowing up my social media, triumphing over the algorithms that keep my mundane gig announcements and goofy selfies buried in most people’s timelines. it is a kind of currency, to be close to someone so famous, but all it requires is paying a high ticket price, all it requires is a generous gift from a friend.

no matter the cost, though, the treasure for me was the spring in my step, the straightening of my spine, the warmth of her hug lingering. we met michelle obama!

YOU CAME FOR MUSIC STUFF? HERE IT IS
watch the video of our liz phair tribute concert, which liz phair herself watched and liked...  "Miss You Like Hell" is coming to boston & indianapolis in 2019, and even more cities to be announced for 2020... Jan 20, 2019, come to a doubleheader of "Miss You Like Hell" & then a concert of mine at passim in boston... 

don't forget it's the holidays, my least favorite time of the year. do you have a fresh copy of "F*ck That!", my anti-holiday record?  makes a great gift ;)
x erin

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