What's your price for flight?

It’s been said that we all have a twin out in the world somewhere. But, in 1986, I truly doubt my twin would be in Medford, Oregon – a mere hour from my own hometown. Unfortunately, the concert staff at the Jackson County fairgrounds thought otherwise.

I’ve been a concert junkie since I was eleven years old. And, I’d like to thank my aunt for take me along for the ride at such a young age and opening my eyes to the live performance arena. I'm forever grateful. It was during one of these journeys that my best friend and I would experience something more than just watching big hair and tight jeans gyrate on the stage.

As usual, we arrived early to the venue in order to weasel up to the stage. My aunt was notorious for using my small frame as a ramming rod at shows to get as close to the performers as we could. Although I wasn’t a huge fan of the bands playing, I wouldn’t pass up a concert any day—especially on a school night even if it was Night Ranger and Richard Marx.

During our strategic maneuvering to the front row, my friend and I noticed that the event staff kept staring at us. At first, I brushed it off as they must have admired our windbreaker bangs since we worked so hard on getting enough lift that night. Paul Mitchell’s Freeze was the culprit instead of the cheap Rave that we usually used for school.

As it crept closer to show time, we finally reached the front row and were pressed against the barrier. Of course, my aunt was pleased that once again I was able to push my way ahead of the crowd. But, she became unnerved after noticing the guards peering at us and talking amongst themselves. It was at this point that I realized it wasn’t my sweet hair they were fascinated by.

As the lights dimmed, Richard Marx stepped onto the stage and began to play his first song. I felt the eyes raking us even more than before, and then a commotion arose from behind us.

I took a quick glance behind me to see four huge people with yellow jackets bearing the title “Event Staff” coming our way. Instantly, I was petrified and so was Cyndi. Two of them grabbed us by the arms and demanded us to come with them. My aunt started screaming “get your hands off them. what are you doing…let them go..” The other two guys then directed her to follow.

I still remember “Right Here Waiting for You” echoing in the background as we were pushed out of the crowd with my aunt still cursing at the security guys. We were led up a couple flights of stairs and towards a grey door. Cyndi was already in the room by the time I entered. As the door flung open, she looked back at me and was laughing like a hyena. There sat a couple in their mid-forties with disappointment in their eyes accompanied by a few of Medford’s finest PD officers.

The husband looked up at me and said “No. That’s not her either.” At this point, I demanded an answer for what was going on. Before the officers could open their donut covered mouths, my best friend blurted, “Jane. They think we’re runaways. Isn’t that funny?” At the time, I didn’t find the humor in it and wanted answers. I was furious; the normal shy Jane was lost during the shuffle out of the crowd and the bitch was slowly emerging.

One of the officers showed me a photograph of two girls that bared no resemblance to us whatsoever.

Then, they dismissed us with as much haste as they had removed us from the main floor. When I opened the grey door, I could hear my aunt yelling at the two guards which were blocking the door. At that point, one of the officers howled “Wrong kids” and the security guards started walking off.

The three of us were standing there in disbelief as the show carried on below us. My friend started walking down the steps. I remember saying “Don’t you dare. These people are bringing us right back to where they got us.” My aunt agreed and appeared to like this side of her timid niece. So, I pushed that grey door back open and showed these people my angry side.

Unfortunately, I tend to see red when I’m to that point of anger. So my recollection for what was said is very vague. However, whatever it was must have worked because three of the hooligans that forcefully took us from the crowd walked back up the steps.

With flashlights in hand, we were led right back to the front row next to the barricade, but this time we were not stage right but in the center. Although we missed Richard Marx’s performance (which was no big loss), we made it back just in time for Night Ranger to sing Sister Christian. What a great song; I loved that one. As one would expect, we received a few extra shoves and some really nasty looks from people for being escorted to the front. But, I still had my claws out just in case.

The conversation at school the next day was fun though. And, the memory now kills me as I think back to it. Two girls actually snuck out and ran away to see Richard Marx and Night Ranger!!!