There's a poster of Clay on the closet in my bedroom. It's the poster from the Independent Tour. When I woke up this morning, it was gone. I whooped. I didn't like that poster anyway. I woke up every night thinking someone was in the room. I was glad it was gone. I didn't need the nightly heart attacks.

When I came out of the bedroom, I could hear 'We Didn't Start The Fire' blasting from the kitchen. Pat was singing along. I walked into the kitchen where he was burning the poster in the sink with an evil glint in his eye. When he saw me, he looked over and laughed. He held up some concert tickets and lit them on fire. But the jokes on him. Those were the tickets from the shows I missed earlier this week. I shrugged and left the room. I didn't have time for his tomfoolery. My brother and I had to leave for Milwaukee in a few short hours fir a concert.

On the way to the arena, Jason and I only got lost 3 times. That's a new low for me. I'm about as good with directions as Clay is with fashion. But this time I made sure we left plenty early so we wouldn't be late. And we weren't. In fact, we were so early that they weren't even letting people inside the doors no matter how many tantrums I threw in the lobby. We waited begrudgingly by the doors with dozens of other fans.

I tried sneaking through the doors until I was told by arena personnel that I would be asked to leave if I kept it up.

As we waited, Clay's 10-foot tall bodyguard Jerome came out to audition people. During every show, Clayton has a fan come onstage and sing with him. This was my chance. I shoved a group of old ladies out of the way and ran up to Jerome. There was a girl already singing for him. I pushed her to the ground and started belting.

"You turned out the light. I'm gonna be alright without. Turn the radio on. No more sad song."

"Um... no." He wrote something down on a little sheet of paper.

"My name is Patti. I'm sitting in Section A, Row 10, Seat 2. Just come and get me at show time."

"Uh... no." He wrote on his paper again. I leaned over and tried to read it. "What do you mean 'uh... no'?"

"We want someone who can sing."

"GASP!!" I put my hand to my heart. "I am wounded! Just wait until Clayton hears about this!"

I spun around and marched into a corner. I pouted with my face to the wall. Some nosy girl asked me what I was doing. "I'm punishing myself for not learning to sing." I explained. She gave me a funny look, so I turned my back to her and pouted in the corner some more.

Jason kept trying to get my attention, but I just swatted his hand away. I heard Jerome calling for the meet and greet people to follow him. I cursed them all under my breath. Jason tried to get my attention again by tugging at my hair. I backhanded him in the face. After a minute, I felt bad, so I turned around to apologize. Jason was among a group of fans being ushered backstage by Jerome. He held up a pass and shouted that he had gotten us meet-and-greet passes. I tried to push my way up to him, but Jerome held me back.

"My brother's up there!"

"A lot of people's brother's are up there."

He motioned for the guy guarding the arena doors to dispose of me. He came over and grabbed me by the collar. "I told you to settle down."

"But I wanna meet and greet Clay!"

He took me outside and deposited me on the sidewalk with instructions not to return until 6:30. When his back was turned, I shook my fist. He quickly turned back. I yanked my fist behind my back and smiled innocently.

"I've got my eye on you, kid."

"I've got my eye on your mother."

He squinted his eyes in confusion and went back inside.

I sat down on the sidewalk to wait out the two hours till they opened the doors. An ice cream truck pulled up in front of the building. My mouth water as a teen boy and an older man brought boxes and boxes of ice cream bars inside. I tried to bribe them out of one, but the man was having none of it. The teen boy kept looking at me. He wanted my goods, but they're reserved for Clay... and Pat... okay, and that one time with Ryan. Let it go! I had no other option! What would you have done?!

I shot eye daggers at the man and his ice cream. He came over and asked me if I had a cigarette. I told him I didn't smoke. And if I did, I wouldn't share with someone who wouldn't share with me. Especially when this deprivation involved ice cream. Then I started lecturing him about smoking in a town whose very air Clay Aiken would breathe.

"Who's Clay Aiken?"

I choked on a startled reply.

"I'll give you an ice cream bar for a cigarette." He propositioned.

I fished around in the pocket of the pants I was wearing, which I realized were Pat's, and found a lone cigarette. Thank God for smoking boyfriends.

He cut open a box of ice cream bars. He pulled one out and dangled it in front of me, his eyes never leaving the cigarette I held in my hand. I ignored the single ice cream bar and instead grabbed the box it came from. He opened his mouth to protest and I shoved the cigarette in. He shrugged, lit it up, and walked away.

Excellent. I thought to myself. I'd share with Clay and no doubt win his heart. As I opened a bar and stuck it in my mouth, a thought came to me. Was he allergic to ice cream? He probably was. I didn't want to take any chances, so I threw the rest of my box away.

Munching on my ice cream bar, I walked around to the other side of the building. A small crowd was gathered behind a 4-foot tall concrete wall. As I approached, I noticed four tour buses. Two blue and two silver. One of them had to be Clay's, but I hadn't a clue which. I leaned against the wall and tried to use my psychic powers to see which bus he was on, but I didn't get a reading. Maybe he wasn't on one of the buses. Or maybe I wasn't psychic after all.

I was thinking of ways to get on the bus, when I noticed people using punch codes to open the doors. I pulled out my binoculars to get a better look. I was able to get up close and personal with a roadie's hand, but I was at a bad angle to see the numbers he was punching. I threw down my binoculars and shook my fist at the buses.

My taunting of the buses was interrupted by a tap on the shoulder. The tap belonged to a fellow Clay fan who wanted to know what we were all waiting for. Duh. I thought to myself. We were obviously waiting for Clay to come out of the bus. I wasn't about to justify her stupid question with an answer, so I just shrugged.

An old man passing by asked the same question. I let him slide since he wasn't one of us. I explained that we were watching the buses. He said, "They're just buses." and walked away. People kept coming by and asking the same question. "We're watching the storm clouds pass. What does it look like we're doing?" After that, I just ignored everyone who asked.

I lifted my disposable camera up over the wall and dropped it on the other side. A security guard was sitting on the other side of the wall. I walked around and told him. "I dropped my camera. I'm just going to go get it." I headed towards it. As soon as the guard looked away, I turned from the camera and ran towards the buses. I jumped over two metal railings and collided with a garbage can. It caught the attention of the guard. "Hey! You can't be over there!"

There was a set of doors to the building next to the garbage can. I grabbed the handle on the right and pulled. It was locked. I grabbed the other door handle and pulled. It opened and I ran in. Right inside the doorway, I smacked into two big guys who dragged me back outside.

I went and stood over behind the wall again. I fished through my pockets for something to distract the guard with. I found a dollar bill. I dropped it over the window in the same place where I dropped the camera. I walked back over to the guard. "I dropped my dollar. I'm just gonna go get it." As soon as he looked away again, I ran back towards the door. A guy wearing an 'event staff' shirt came outside. They guard was still looking away, so I picked up the garbage can and knocked the guy out. I dragged his body behind the buses and took off his shirt. I put it on over my own shirt and snuck back inside the doors.

Once inside, I ran down the hallways looking for Clay. I couldn't find him, I couldn't find a dressing room, and I couldn't find a single crewmember.

I ran around for half an hour and ended up on the concourse where the fans were filtering in. My attention was immediately drawn to the souvenir stand. I had to buy a shirt and a new poster to replace the one I lost by fire. I shoved my way to the front of the line. People yelled and complained. I yelled back, "I could be dying! You don't know! Move out of my way!" I finally made my way through the crowd and made my purchases.

When I managed to dig my way back out through the crowd, two state police officers were waiting for me. They held up their handcuffs. I ran. I didn't stop till I got in my car. Then I drove. I didn't stop until I had made it safely home.

I hope Jason found a ride home.