July 21, 2013

The beautiful, sunshiny Buffalo morning was in perfect keeping with my mood.  It was going to be a fantastic Sunday, because, I was going to get to meet a man whom, up until this point, I’d only speculated about – in great detail.

The event was to start at 11:00, but I arrived at 9:30 to find the Bongiovi Brand RV already there in Wegman’s parking lot.  I squealed, I giggled and I bounced up and down like a little girl. It’s side was popped out even, so I assumed that Tony and Mr. B. had spent the night in the RV?

There happened to be a parking space with the perfect view of the business side, so I pulled in and just sat there, grinning at it like an idiot for the longest time.  The supports were down, further reinforcing my thought that they’d actually used the RV the night before.  The closed window blinds were another supporting factor.  I was almost convinced of it.  Now, what do to?

First things first...  A quick pic with the phone through the windshield to email away to my closest girls let them know that the man I whom I had come to ‘stalk’ was, indeed, in residence.   With that done, I was left to decide what my next move should be.

Seeing another man taking photos of the RV, I thought that was as good a place as any to start.  One standard, full side shot of the “Pasta Wagon”.  Then I slowly moved down the parking lot to get a different angle, then into the grass for a front shot.

Girlfriend has got to see this pop out.

To get a decent shot of the protruding portion of the camper, I had to go across the road, but I had plenty of time to spare, so why not?  I had a twinge of panic when I thought I saw a shadow move in the window of the popout section, but it turned out to only be an exterior reflection.  The only thing I didn’t take a photo of was the rear of the RV, because that seemed stalkery.  License plate and all that.

Back to the car, and I happened to turn to look at the store entrance.

Holy cow!  It’s him!

He wasn’t in the RV at all, but he’d been inside the store, and had now stopped to talk to the people manning the radio station’s tent.  Kiss 98.5 was promoting the event and I took the opportunity of his exchange with them to snap a couple more photos.  He was wearing sunglasses and had a pair of regular glasses hanging from his necklace.

Are those reading glasses? 

When he finished his conversation and moved on, I captured a few shots of him crossing the parking lot from the store to the Pasta Wagon.  When he opened the Wagon’s door, the only thing I could see were some boxes inside, stacked beside the door.

He was gone only a moment, reappearing with a cigarette in hand, and immediately getting approached by the older gentleman who had been the one to inspire me to start my photography.  They spoke briefly and Tony ducked his head back into the RV.  At his beckoning, Mr. B came down the stairs, looking very Hollywood with his fancy sunglasses.

The two older gentlemen chatted while Tony stepped away to smoke.  About that same time, two women (one of which who would ultimately be kind enough to snap a picture for me) huddled around Tony for photos.

What do I do?  Should I wait?  Should I go?

The women migrated from son to father, leaving Tony to smoke.  He took a few puffs, then came to grab a shopping cart from the cart ‘corral’.  Towing it along behind him, he returned to the RV and offloaded those boxes that I’d seen into the cart.  There were t-shirts in at least one box, but that’s all I could see.

He’s alone.  Go.  Now’s the time.  Go.

So I did.

I can’t exactly remember how I found myself standing there, waiting for him to turn around from plundering in one of the boxes, but there I was.  When he finally did spin around, a smile came to my face and I stuck my hand out.  “Congratulations on your expansion.”

Immediately accepting my hand, he shook it and smiled politely.  “Thank you.”

“It’s a real pleasure to meet you.  We’ve talked a few times on Facebook.”

“I’m sorry, what’s your name?”

I loved the way his eyebrows knit together with concern, as though he really was sorry that he didn’t know my name.

“Carol Jovi.”

The clouds cleared and a vague, dim light of recollection dawned on his features.  “Oh, right, Carol.”

Except that he didn’t say Carol the same way everyone else I know says it.  We all say, “Cair-ul”.  Not Tony with his New Jersey/New England accent.  He said, “Caa-ral.”  I liked that it sounded different coming from him.  What can I say?  I’m a sap.

“I’m the one who pitched the cookbook idea to you,” I prompted helpfully.  My reward was full-on recognition and a smile.

“That’s right!”

Shrugging helplessly, I commiserated with something he’d once told me before.  “I’m having trouble getting it off the ground.  It’s the same problem  you have of getting people to give up their recipes.”

“I know!  What’s with that?  It’s like they don’t want to let go of them.”

This would have been the perfect spot for me to extend my conversation and chat with the man, but my brain was in hyper-drive with my ‘agenda’.

So I murmured some type of agreement and awkwardly segued into, “And now I have a question that isn’t sauce related.”

Whipping open the big black bag I had slung over my shoulder, I fished out my copy of This Left Feels Right DVD, which he had directed and won an innovation award for.

“Would you sign this DVD for me?  It’s the one you won that award for.”

His face went...  blank, kind of.  I’m not sure whether it was from sheer surprise that somebody would schlep that around and actually ask for his autograph, or the fact that he didn’t want known in that arena.  He’d just mentioned the whole directing career thing on the radio interview a couple of days prior to that, so I had considered it fair game.

“Wow.”

He just looked at it for a second.

“Kind of a blast from the past, isn’t it?” I laughed, hoping like everything that this wasn’t about to bomb.  “Oh, and here...”  Back I dove into the voluminous bag that I would never carry for a purse in my life.  It was actually my computer bag without the computer.  My regular purse wouldn’t have held the DVD, so I improvised, and I was glad I had when I withdrew the black marker.  “I brought my own Sharpie.”

And I tried to giggle a little to make it cute.  Right?  Wrong. He didn’t really laugh as he accepted the uncapped marker from me.  In retrospect I wonder if it was the novelty of being asked for his autograph?  Based on his merits and not the fact that he was somebody’s brother.

Either that or he just didn’t really want to do it, but couldn’t find a graceful way out of it.

Whichever it was, he paused again, the felt tip of the pen just above the surface of the DVD case as though he were thinking of how to sign his name.  The scrawl was such that I couldn’t read it legibly with my first glance.  I couldn’t even tell what name he’d put on the DVD.  I briefly thought it looked like Jon’s name , but when I got home I found that he just had an unusual way of writing ‘T’.

Autograph in place, he hesitated again, glancing at me.  “Should I put ‘to Carol’ on it?”

Hell yes!  Say my name, write my name, have my name tattooed on your body if you want!

I said none of that, thank God.

“If you don’t mind, that would be great!”  Southern girl manners to the rescue.

My attention was torn between watching the addition get inked into place and his necklace.  I’d always wondered what was on the back of those Slippery When Wet pendants.  I could just reach up and flip that thing over...  Then my curiosity would be satisified.  Or I could ask.  then he handed me the DVD, recapped the marker and handed it to me as well.  Both promptly went back into the insane black bag.

“You wanna hat?”

From the magic box had appeared a nice black ball cap with the words “This Ain’t Your Mama’s Sauce” embroidered on the front, and “bongiovibrand.com” on the back. 

“Sure!  Thanks!”

Or I hope I said thanks.  That haunted me all afternoon and evening.  Did I even thank the man for his time and patience?  Lord, I hope so.  I sent him a Facebook message that night, just in case. 

Now it was time to push my luck.

“I also wondered if I might get a picture with you.  If I can find somebody to take it for me?”

He immediately looked over to his dad, who was still talking to the first man and said, “Sure, no problem.”

I don’t know if that meant he thought to ask his dad to take the picture, or if he was just looking in general, but that’s what happened.

As I turned to find one of the two original women who had come over, another woman stepped up next to Tony.  I had seen her and her, I assume, husband walking to the grocery store when I had been driving up.  The husband was a scrawny little thing wearing a Bon Jovi t-shirt, and was pushing a stroller with a 2-3 year old little boy.

The woman was quite short, round and – bless her heart – had no teeth.  When I kicked my head back around she was showing Tony his brother’s name tattooed on the top of her left breast.  What did Tony have to say?

“And the original spelling...  nice.”  He was smiling just as politely as he would at anybody else.  The man got kudos for that in my book.

This woman then wanted to get her picture taken with him.

By this time I had my photographer lined up and said quietly to him, “I’ve got someone to take mine, too, whenever you’re ready.

God love his heart...  he instantly took one step to his left and settled his arm around my shoulders, tucking me into him.  He leaned in until there was literally no space between us and I slipped my hand up to rest in the small of his back.  I think.  That part is a little blurry.  I was kind of focusing on ‘cuddling’ with him.  I don’t see my hand at his waist so I assume I didn’t put my arm around his waist.

Anyway, photo was snapped and I took my camera back from the woman and let him go on about his PR business with Ms. Tattooed Breast.

Quietly I drifted a few feet away and continued to take photos.  I got a great couple of him posing with that woman, but managed to leave her out of the picture.

Mr. Bongiovi was surrounded by people at this point, so I didn’t push my way in to speak with him.  I just bided my time and snapped a few shots from a distance.

The radio personality came up to talk to Tony in her sky high heels and short, tight tank dress and business commenced.  After she got a picture with him, of course  (their picture together looks more staged than mine.  Just saying.).  Employees of the store were herding around and getting their assignments and all that.

Feeling very stalkery, I go back to the car, hop in for a minute and take out my DVD for a gander .  There it is!  My name, his name... right there!  I snap a picture of the DVD with my phone and ship it off to my girls, so they know that I have now officially met the man I came to see.

When I looked up again, Mr. B had disappeared and Tony was going back toward the store with some of employees and the radio woman.  Another guy had already wheeled the cart of boxes toward the radio station’s tent.  Tony went inside the store with one of the store employees and I just sort of watched.

It looked like they were unloading those boxes of t-shirts and hats on the radio station’s table.  I wanted a shirt!  I had a hat that the man himself had given me, but I wanted a shirt too!  I had a picture of him wearing one of those very shirts.

Hopping back out of the car (camera still in tow), I decide to go inside and get some water and, along my way, would investigate the radio tent.  I marched right up to the young girl standing there and said, “What do I have to do to get one of those t-shirts?”

When finding out that I had to get a bean bag into a hole, a la carnival game-style, I knew I was screwed.  She gave me two chances and I missed them both.  But, sweet child that she was, must’ve been able to tell I REALLY wanted that shirt.  She gave it to me anyway, even though she said all they had was a large.  Six months ago that would’ve discouraged me.  Not anymore.  That’s exactly what size I wear now.

Score!

So I wander into the store and see that there is a secondary setup inside.  I neglected to mention that there was a chef station beside the radio tent and there were shelves upon shelves of sauce, accented with a display of tomatoes, garlic and sunflowers.  All very nice.

The inside was their typical demo station, also accented with the same tomatoes, garlic and sunflowers.

This is nice!  Girlfriend would love to know about this.

She’d already been shooting me a thousand emails which I knew I would never get answered in a timely manner, so I called her and caught her up to that point in my day.  She, of course, was properly excited for me.  Anybody that I’m going to cut into my TBJ time to call wouldn’t be anything else!!  :D

Phone call finished, water purchased I went back out to the car.

That’s when I saw two women taking one another’s picture in front of the RV.

Oooh!  Good idea!  Why didn’t I think of that??

Abandoning my water, I went back over and watched while the second woman was doing her photo ‘shoot’, then asked the woman photographing her if she would mind doing a picture for me.  They were both wearing Bon Jovi shirts.  I knew I had found willing subjects here.

About the time she accepted my camera, the RV door opened and out came Tony and Mr. B.  Well, the women just flipped and swarmed them – my camera still in the hands of one of them.

Tony and Mr. B were both quite nice, listening to them wax on about Jon and how much they loved Bon Jovi.  One even had a new tattoo on her foot that was Bon Jovi related and both men were obediently admiring it.  Then she realized she still had my camera and handed it to me, and handed me the other one too.  That’s how I got recruited to take a picture of these two women with Mr. B and Tony.

The picture, it turned out, appeared pretty quickly that evening on Bongiovi Brand’s Facebook page.  The women’s names were April Ezzell and Debbie something-or-other.

Needless to say, I didn’t get my photo with the RV.

Wandered once again back to my car and took pictures of the processional that took Mr. B back to the store to meet with the radio woman and have his photo taken.

When Tony had come out of the RV that time, he was carrying a couple of gadgets in his hand.  I couldn’t tell what they were, but they looked electronic.  Pasta gadgets?  Whatever.

Photo op with radio woman (Janet something, btw) over, they disappeared into the store.  I presume they were going to man the tasting station inside.

Seeing as I had no really good pictures of Mr. B yet, I decided to follow along.

Tony was helping his dad get situated at the station, handing him off to the store employee who seemed to be in charge of this extravaganza.  There was a line of people in front of and around Mr. B.  He was seriously a popular guy!  I snapped a few photos from a spot behind a pallet of strawberries in the produce section.  Caught another one of Tony when he wandered away from his dad, gadgets still in hand.

I’m so engrossed in getting the perfect Mr. B shot that I don’t realize for a minute that to the left of me, on the other side of a metal beam, Tony was using the pallet of strawberries to fiddle with his electronic gizmos.

Holy crap.  He’s right there!  And I didn’t approach him, he came and stopped beside me. 

I decided to be casual and continue to take Mr. B photos and photos of the Bongiovi Brand tasting station.  Somehow I managed to resist the urge to snatch up the phone that he’d put on the pallet beside the gadets and flip through all his pictures!  I don’t know how – maybe the thought of police? – but I did.

After a couple of minutes, I see him swipe his left hand up the pole at a point above our heads, sending the dust flying.  The surface properly ‘clean’, he then stuck the mount for the square gadget up there and pointed it toward his dad.  Then he fiddled with his phone.  Adjusted the camera again.  Fiddled with the phone.

Wait.  Is he...?

“Are you using your phone to take pictures with that camera?” I finally can’t help but ask.

He glances up with a half-grin.  “Yeah.”

“Well if that isn’t just about the coolest thing ever!”

I had been in lust, fascinated and enchanted by the man before, but now I wanted to sit down and talk to him forever.  I wanted to know what he knew about cool gadgets and video and all that stuff.  My crush just took on an entirely different life.

“One of the advantages of all those years directing.  I picked up a few things.”

“Yeah, like where to get all the good gadgets!” I enthused like a true techno-nerd.  “That is so cool!”

He smiled again and went back to placing his camera.

As he’d been adjusting the little camera’s position, I had kind of noticed his wedding ring.  It had diamonds around the band, reminding me of a Possession wedding band that I had been looking at for a story.

I wonder if it’s the same one?  Girlfriend has to see this.

His watch was also a heck of a lot nicer than I thought it was going to be.  I always had it pictured as a plain, serviceable watch.  Not so.  It sported diamonds very similar to that of his wedding ring.  I am intrigued.  So I take a picture of the cute little camera all by itself, then I manage to get a shot of his wedding ring and watch without him noticing.

Feeling sufficiently like a stalker fan  now, I decide it’s time to call it a day.  The lens cap goes back on my trusty camera and I turn to walk from the produce section out the front door.

But...  On my way by, I pat him on the shoulder and tell him with a smile, “Okay, I’m finished stalking you now.  Have a good day.”

He twisted around to see that it was me, laughed and said, “You too.”

And THAT is the day I met Tony Bongiovi.

It absolutely rocked.

Oh, and not once did I ever mention Bon Jovi or the word ‘brother’.  It wasn’t all about the sauce, but it was certainly all about HIM!