It was still early yet and midweek in beautiful Palm Springs, California. We dropped my husband off at our hotel as he wasn’t feeling well and didn’t want to be anymore of a Debbie downer on the evening. The bite of cancer and subsequent surgeries to cure him left a great deal of destruction to his already battle-scarred body. He continues to suffer from bouts of severe abdominal discomfort and fatigue, which just adds to his already compromised health condition as a result of a traumatic brain injury. After leaving him to rest and relax, we pulled out of the hotel in the little Nissan Note rental car towards the downtown strip.
Shawn has been one of my friends for twenty years. We’ve grown up and evolved together and today he’s one of my closest BFF’s. We share so much in common and are more alike than he or I cared to admit during our earlier years; among these is addiction and alcoholism. Today, not only do we share our struggles and steps in recovery but also celebrate each other and the little milestones we achieve in this crazy life.
Turning the car towards the mountains and Palm Canyon Drive, I asked, “you’ve heard Madonna’s latest album?”
“No, I’ve been wanting to.” Shawn exclaimed.
I cranked up my iPhone’s playlist and blasted it through the car’s stereo.
“First you love me and I let you in
Made me feel like I was born again
You empowered me; you made me strong
Built me up and I can do no wrong…
Living for love
Living for love
I'm not giving up…”
I haven’t been this excited about a Madonna album since Music in 2000 when I did Madonna in drag for Halloween, and yet this new album sweeps me away. It takes me back to my youth when I would secretly dance around my room and sing along to her tracks from her albums, Madonna, Like a Virgin and True Blue. Oh my God, True Blue—Live to Tell, Open your heart, Papa Don’t Preach on Mtv. I’d escape in her music for three, four minutes at a time, rewind the cassette tape. Alone in my room. Always alone. Even in a crowd, I was the loneliest soul among many.
Years, many albums later, still lost, and deeper into my addiction, I’d let myself go with Madonna’s Like a Prayer – Express Yourself. I’d Vogue it on the dance floor in a drunken and drug-induced stupor with the best and worst of them. And when I struggled to get clean and break from my past, I’d find myself Deeper and Deeper inside of my head with Fever for Madonna’s Erotica. She is the queen of pop in my book, always and forever will be the heroin in my veins. Okay, okay—enough with the corniness. Now, I’m much older, wiser. Mature. And being clean and sober, I still struggle and still need a reminder from time to time. Madonna, herself older, wiser, mature, and explicit, picked up her crown, put it back on her head! This time she makes Billboard chart history earning her 44th No. 1 on Dance Club Songs with Living for Love. With every track (thus far as we’re still waiting for the release of the rest of the album on March 10th), I’m captured by the rhythms, the beat—syncs with the beat of my own heart. This album speaks to following one’s heart and yet honoring one’s own rebel strength. It’s raw. Once again, I find myself escaping into Madonna. I get lost in the lyrics, some speaking to the deepest, darkest parts of my own soul. And I am reminded.
Take my sins and wash them away
Teach me how to pray
I've been stranded here in the dark
Take these walls away
I've been swimming in the ocean
Till I'm almost drowned
Give me something I can believe in
Teach me how to pray
And we can do drugs and we can smoke weed and we can drink whiskey
Yeah, we can get high and we can get stoned
And we can sniff glue and we can do E and we can drop acid
Forever be lost with no way home
Yeah, we can run and we can hide
But we won't find the answers
If you go down then you'll get help along the way
But if you wanna save your soul
Then we should travel all together
And make the devil pray
Ooh, save my soul, save my soul, save my...
Devil's here to fool ya
Mother Mary can't you help me
'Cause I've gone astray
All the angels that were around me
Have all flown away
The ground beneath my feet's getting warmer
Lucifer is near
Holding on, but I'm getting weaker
Watch me disappear
And we can do drugs and we can smoke weed and we can drink whiskey
Yeah, we can get high and we can get stoned
And we can sniff glue and we can do E and we can drop acid
Forever be lost with no way home
Yeah, we can run and we can hide
But we won't find the answers
If you go down then you'll get help along the way
But if you wanna save your soul
Then we could travel all together
And make the devil pray
Ooh...Sing hallelujah
Ooh...Save my soul
Ooh...the devil's here to fool ya
Until my story's told
I said ooh...sing hallelujah
Ooh...save my soul
Ooh...the devil's here to fool ya
Until my story's told
Until my story's told
Shawn and I continued our evening; we walked the strip, finding more famous people’s names engraved in the stars on Palm Canyon Drive. Cracking each other up and acting silly. We stopped for frozen yogurt at Tutti’s and sat outside upon and under the stars, reminiscing as we always do about the crazy and good ‘ole days of our twenties. The two of us were so full of insecurity, fear, and secrets so deep we built walls long enough, high enough to protect ourselves from being seen by the other. We now share a true friendship, seeing each other for who we are and being okay with that part of ourselves we see in the other. Acceptance and love.
We got back in the little car and cranked Madonna again. We drove around some more, “beep beep, bitch move,” singing to the tunes, “Bitch, I’m Madonna!” I spun the car around, running a red light and back down the strip. “Gurl, we go hard or we go home,” I sang. I pointed out some more of my favorite spots like Koffi at The Corridor as Shawn would more than likely have more moments on his own during the rest of his work week in Palm Springs.
Turning east we headed back towards our hotels, Shawn was staying at a smaller boutique hotel down from where Greg and I were staying. Crossing over the street, I said, “I think that’s your hotel, I recognize the little umbrella and valet drive in front.” We pulled in along side the hotel in a parking area. There was a man that seemed to be checking hotel-parking permits in the dark with a flash light. We parked the car in an empty spot and checked with the guy. “I’m staying at this hotel and he’s just running in with me for about ten minutes. Is it okay if he parks here?” Shawn asked the guy with the flashlight. “Sure, no problem,” he responded.
I followed Shawn through a side entrance. “I think we can just go through here,” Shawn says as he pulls open a gate to an entrance to the interior courtyard. We walk through a long, dark corridor before meeting another gate. Shawn struggled and fumbled the gate open. We walked through; it slammed behind us. “Shhh!” he exclaimed. Another gate. He struggles again. “I think you need to use your room key,” I said. He reaches through the gate and it pops open. We enter only to find we’re inside someone’s private patio—a ten by ten space. A light was on inside the room; you could make out a king sized bed through the shears that were drawn over the patio doors. “Shawn! Where are we going?” “Gurl, I’m lost!” he retorts. We both start laughing. Once the two of us start, it’s ridiculous. We can’t stop now. We break free from the inside of the gated patio before drawing attention. We turn right and walk down another corridor aside a dozen rooms. The whole courtyard was dark and overgrown with ficus trees and other bushes. We walked further and deeper and Shawn suddenly stops in his tracks. “I don’t know where I am.” “Gurl, don’t you recognize anything?” I asked. “I don’t think this is my hotel,” he says. “What? What do you mean this isn’t your hotel?” “How do we get out of here,” Shawn asks. “Gurl, you’re asking me?” He turns again and I follow him around another private courtyard and through another corridor before finally being dumped out into the light of the night.
“This isn’t my hotel,” Shawn exclaims. “Oh my God, gurl!” We walk around the hotel, trying now to get back to my car. We manage easier to find the parking lot. Standing at the corner, we both look across the parking lot on the other corner—“There it is!” we both exclaim in unison. We laugh so hard; we’re now doubled over, wailing so hard we’re both crying.
We cross to the other corner and enter the correct hotel. Shawn begins to show me around, it’s very obvious to me the differences in the two places. “How could you possibly think that other place was your hotel?” I teasingly asked. “Gurl, shut up! You said it was my hotel,” he responds. “Oh my God, gurl, my stomach hurts.” I give Shawn a hug goodnight as it’s now been well over ten minutes since I left my car in the little lot outside the two hotels. I tell Shawn that this hysterical moment is going to be epic-crazy in my head and days or weeks from now I’m going to think of it and will start laughing out loud. “Hopefully I will be by myself when it happens,” I think to myself.
I get in my car, cold-stone sober, high on life and crank Madonna for the two-minute, short drive down the strip back to my hotel.
Yeah, we can run and we can hide
But we won't find the answers
If you go down then you'll get help along the way
But if you wanna save your soul
Then we could travel all together
And make the devil pray
Ooh...Sing hallelujah
Ooh...Save my soul
Ooh...the devil's here to fool ya
Until my story's told
I said ooh...sing hallelujah
Ooh...save my soul
Ooh...the devil's here to fool ya
Until my story's told
Until my story's told.
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