Dear Bryan Adams

I might be in love with you. Which is disturbing. On so many levels. Because you were actually around for the summer of '69. And I was not. At any rate, from my seat in the Ohio Theater the other night, you were smokin' in them blue jeans.

Love, Tali

**This letter reminds me of a Collin Raye concert I attended years ago. I mentioned to the people with me that he still looked decent in his wranglers, and was told something along the lines of, "that's sick." So if any of you feel like throwing up a little, my apologies. The difference between Collin and Bryan is, of course, that Bryan is actually still sexy. Whereas Collin was just a cowboy who hadn't gotten too fat.

I had been looking forward to this B. Adams concert for quite a while, but began to feel out of place upon realizing I was probably the youngest person in the whole place. Granted, I was just a kid when he was in his prime, but the fact is that the man has been making music for 30 years, so it's not as if I don't know his stuff. I was amazed again as he sang (for two and a half hours, mind you) at just how many songs are his. All for One, Everything I Do, Heaven, Straight from the Heart, Have you ever loved a woman, Please forgive me, Somebody, etc. Of course, my favorite is Summer of '69, and it was pretty amazing to hear him sing it. Although a more accurate description of what happened is that I sang Summer of '69 with thousands of people, one of which happened to be Bryan Adams.

In true Cleveland style, a fight broke out in the row in front of me. It involved someone thinking someone else was being too loud, it definitely involved alcohol, and I prayed that what it wouldn't involve was a gun. It ultimately involved a little old black lady who escorted them out (not sure I would have gone with someone so not intimidating), but it worked like a charm. Anyway, so now I can cross seeing B. Adams perform Summer of '69 off of my short list and focus on the task at hand: seeing the Cavs pull this championship out.