I (At A CAKE Concert In Indiana) Discover Every Woman’s Dream Port-O-Potty

The temperature and humidity on the evening of June 4th were most similar, as a friend said, to “being inside someone’s mouth”. After taking the long and arduous walk to pick up my tickets for the concert at will call and finally getting in and getting my sweaty palms on a refreshing beverage, I quickly realized that A) I was probably going to be drinking a lot of water because it was so hot and B) my presence at this outdoor venue, Caesar’s Indiana, meant unavoidable exposure to one notoriously horrific reality, an invention I regularly refer to as “the great equalizer”: the portable toilet. As I took my first sip, I glanced at the lines of plastic huts and silently surrendered to eventually hovering over what would most definitely be an unpleasant visit to steamy, rancid human excrement (and cheap, flimsy toilet tissue) steeping in a hole beneath my naked nether-regions. I fought nature for as long as possible before succumbing, feeling defeated and glancing one last time at grassy areas not monitored by security. I approached the toilets and quickly realized that half of them bore signs reading “WOMEN ONLY”. A sigh of relief! I would still have to hover, but I wouldn’t be sliding around, exposed in open-toed shoes, to the puddles of urine men spray all over most, if not all, concert and bar toilets. Indiana’s civilized, feminist-friendly facilities excited me even more when I stepped inside and closed the door. Not only was there a hook for my bag and a mirror to check myself out, but the interior was squeaky clean and adorned with bright flowers!

Before the show began I really wanted to interview some attendees as I was in such a strange, centrally-located American…casino. Ceasar’s Indiana is located on a showboat on the Ohio River since gambling is illegal in the state. I realize that many gambling cruise ships travel far into the sea where gambling is permitted, but somehow the river does not count as Indiana. Go figure. The concert, however, was across the street in an open-air venue beside the hotel’s parking garage and since casinos always depress more than intrigue me, I steered clear. Talking to people is one of my favorite things to do. Sure, celebrities and the like are more sought-after and give me some level of “street cred”, but at the end of the day it’s the “ordinary” people who make up the majority of America that truly interest me. Concerts are great for finding people in a happy mood no matter where the show is, and I was thrilled to speak with fans, especially Bill and Jeff, whose makeshift interviews are below and who were just so genuinely happy to be seeing Cake.

First, meet Jeff:

Next, please allow me to introduce Bill O’Connor. Bill, his wife and two of their friends were seated behind me and once they found out I was not watching the show with anyone, they quickly adopted me, bought me a beer and we ended up having a delightful time together. The four were kind, generous and very positive people. In fact, one woman offered me invaluable advice for when I have a baby one day. (You just have to love the Midwest). Plus, Bill and family are enormous fans of Cake, boasting that there is a framed picture of singer John McCrea in their kitchen and that their two teenage sons are also big fans and were terribly disappointed that the casino venue meant the enforcement of a strict “21 and over” policy. I don’t know how I would feel if I knew that people were making pancakes and looking at my picture, especially if they didn’t know me. The closest I can relate to this experience is when I was “Mistress Kitty” on NIGHTS WITH ALICE COOPER and would get mail from certain fans of mine from around the country explaining some pretty graphic and personal stories about what they did each night after hearing my voice. (Again, a lot of these people were in prison or driving 18-wheelers). It’s sort of nice to know that your work touches (no pun intended) the life of someone who admires it, and inspiring others to dream bigger, be more kind and help to make our world a better place is quite encouraging.

Thanks to my father and Louis Armstrong, I just can’t get enough of trumpets. And although the camera jitters and dips are the result of my being eaten alive by mosquitos, this is a nice moment during a really wonderful song.

Finally, during every show John gives away a tree, just as long as the person who takes it home promises they have the property to plant it, watch it grow and send in pictures of themselves beside the tree as it gets bigger. At the Indiana show, John decided to have a dance contest and I filmed it. After the concert I reviewed the footage and a friend and I determined that the winner of the tree has dance moves which are sort of, well, like those of an exotic dancer. This led to questions of why women, when selected to get on stage at pretty much ANY show anywhere on earth, exhibit sexy-sexy-hump-hump dance moves. John's lucky I wasn't selected to get up and dance because I would have taken home a forest-worth of trees that night.