Domaine Chandon Prestige

Last night I went to a Michael Bolton concert.

No, you did not read that wrong.

This may not be quite so random to you, the television viewer who has seen an episode of this season's Dancing With The Stars. But, for me, who doesn't even know how to turn on the television in my own home (Nathalie has tried to show me repeatedly, but I have a mental block against absorbing this information), the invitation took me quite off-guard. I recalled the name, hadn't a clue what he sang, but knew it was a while ago.

Rory and Christina had offered me the ticket as a thank you for letting them stay in my New York apartment earlier this month. I can't say I accepted out of a burning desire to see Michael Bolton, but it sounded random enough to make for an amusing evening.

And, oh, that it did. After a quick bite and drink at the bar at Bouchon, Rory, Christina, their friend Rick and I hopped into the car and across Yountville to the Lincoln Theater, which I had never heard of, but now know is on the site of a veteran's home.

I'm not sure who I expected to see at a Michael Bolton concert, but I was by far the youngest person in attendance, certainly young enough to be the granddaughter of nearly everyone I saw. We had to dodge parked walkers to find our seats, which were up in the near-empty balcony.

We arrived just in time to see the opening act, a local lounge singer. Michael, on the other hand, fresh from his elimination from Dancing With The Stars that night (I hear he's the world's worst dancer), was cutting it close on time. As the opening act said her goodbyes after her last song, she was re-directed back to the stage and began performing again, a song called "Don't Go" ("oh, the irony," said Rick, quite appropriately). It was the longest opening act in the history of opening acts.

But, Michael did show, after a long intermission during which Christina and I each downed a glass of Domaine Chandon Prestige because the hall monitors wouldn't let us bring our drinks back into the theater (I have also not mastered the art of drinking bubbles, or anything for that matter, fast).

I'm embarrassed to admit it, but I actually enjoyed seeing Michael Bolton. I think he's a pretty good singer! And his songs are hilarious (though I'm sure he means them to be serious). The highlight was his final number, a song he had written for another artist in the early 90s (his heyday) and which I recognized from the episode of Saved By The Bell when Zach and Kelly break up at the costume party. Oh, how I love the 90s.

It was a late finish, so I wasn't surprised to see some of the walkers had disappeared by the time we exited the venue. We were all exhausted, too, so when Rory and Rick convinced one of the veteran's home residents to give us a ride to our car in her golf cart, we simply couldn't say no.

Our chauffeur gave us a tour of the grounds, pointing out where she lives and where the chapel is on the property.

"You must get all the guys in this thing," Rick said, referring to her hot wheels.

"Oh, yes, sir," she replied. Then she pointed out the chapel again.

As she drove off in her golf cart and we got into the car, I couldn't help but think "Where the hell am I?" and "Did this really just happen?"

Can't say Napa doesn't have culture.

Good thing I only had one glass of the bubbles. Otherwise, my memory might have been impacted. And, I certainly wouldn't want to forget the night I saw Michael Bolton.