I was one of the 1.6 million people who put their name in for the Michael Jackson memorial tickets. What? Why is everyone around me so astounded that I did this? I was born in the 70s. He was an integral part of growing up for me. I remember when Captain Eo opened at Disneyland during the height of his popularity- the lines were six hours long to watch him moonwalk in a neon light-up astronaut suit with some goofy rainbow on the front, shooting laser beams out of his hands while some handkerchief wearing backup dancers twirled the background. OK, it doesn’t sound quite so awesome in retrospect, but it was REALLY COOL at the time.
Anyway, I didn’t get the tickets, which is probably for the best. I would have had to miss 2 days of work- one to go to Dodger Stadium to get the tickets, and another to go to the memorial. And as it would so happen, this week in July is historically the single busiest week of the year at the clinic- not the best time to come down with a “serious cold” or a “family emergency.” It was so busy that I didn’t have time to indulge my alternate Michael Jackson tribute plan, which was to plug in my ipod and subject my co-workers and pets to a day of MJ tunes. My co-workers, most of whom were born in the 80s and knew Michael only as the caricature he had become, were befuddled and bemused by my determination to do something in honor of the king of pop. Oh well.
I thought everyone was going to be home watching the tribute on CNN, not coming in to see me with my non-TV-having waiting area and their rabies-needing, limping, scratchy pets. I guess not everyone was as into the guy as me- and my neck of the woods is more Alan Jackson than Michael Jackson to begin with. Time and hotspots wait for no man, and in the midst of the high season for allergies, mourning for a has-been pop star has to take a back seat to the legions of moist dermatitis and mild heatstroke brought on by being a dog in July. Onward and upward.
I saw 35 pets today. 35! It was off the wall! By the end of the day I was in a really bad mood. When stragglers were trying to walk in at 5:30, I was ready to tell them to beat it. Seriously, leave me alone. The receptionist tried to tell them to ease on down the road but they weren’t having it. I was ready to cry.
My tech Amber put her hand on my head, which was firmly laying on the counter, and said, “You are not alone. It makes me want to scream too.” I sighed, and said, “Do you remember the time we first met? We thought we were going to heal the world. Now look at us.”
She laughed. “Keep the faith,” she said to my morose form. “Oh, and you have a vomiting Cane Corso in room one. He almost took another part of me off when I tried to take his temperature. Just a wee bit dangerous.” Thrilling.