One Way ticket (Because I can)

Ready to go on my one-way adventure!

January 9, 2024

As a child, I spent many a Sunday afternoon singing atrociously into my father’s black handheld tape recorder:

‘I can feel my heart beatin' faster as I step out on my own

There's a new horizon

And the promise of favorable wind

I'm headin' out tonight, travelin' light

I'm gonna start all over again 

and buy a one way ticket 

on a west bound train, 

see how far I can go.’ 

Perhaps LeAnn Rimes is the reason I turned out to be a hopeless romantic, but that is another story altogether. There was something magical about those lyrics. They spoke to a deep inner longing that bloomed perennially within me: a longing to taste, touch, and see everything the world had to offer. That’s why twenty-four years ago, when LeAnn Rimes was performing at the Kansas State Fair, my heart exploded with excitement at the prospect of seeing her perform. 

I can remember going up to my daddy, pouting my lips and whining

“But Daddy please!” while holding up a concert flier and pointing to the woman in shiny black pants and a pink tank top. “It’s my only chance Daddy! I wanna meet her and get an autograph. I won’t probably ever get to see her again!” 

In what was certainly a moment that tugged at the heartstrings of my father’s humble, working-class heart, he assured me he would try, but that there might not be any tickets left for sale. As an innocent child I had no idea of the financial challenges we endured. My daddy had done a remarkable job masking its severity, always finding special ways to surprise his favorite little girl, even while he struggled to put food on the table. 

But Daddy loved surprises. I remember once he enlisted the help of my sister, instructing her to hide me under a blanket in his beat-up pickup truck while he went into the local hardware store to  purchase a patched piggy bank, he had watched me squeal about not two-minutes prior. So, it was in typical dad fashion that he nonchalantly sat down next to me on a bright Sunday afternoon, as I recorded and re-recorded myself singing along to LeAnn and placed his arm around me.

“Bubby, I have something I wanna show you” he whispered to me as he slowly unfurled his gorilla-sized palm to reveal two tiny white tickets. I yelped with excitement and jumped to my feet.  

The days leading up to the concert were unbearably slow. I spent many a morning and evening making sure I knew the words to every song LeAnn might play. On the morning of the concert, Daddy and I drove the long flat 2-hour drive to the State Fair Ground in Hutchinson, Kansas. We toured the fair and stopped by daddy’s favorite ride, a Halloween-themed boat tour where he loved to watch me shriek. Between gulps of golden funnel cake and handfuls of blue cotton candy that stuck to my face, I nagged at him to watch the time, we couldn’t be late.

Approaching the entrance, I nervously hugged the beloved photo of my childhood icon close to my chest, staring eagerly at the queue for a meet-and-greet with LeAnn Rimes. As a number-one fan kid subscribed to her fan club, I had somehow conjured up the idea that I was permitted to meet the star of the show. Given our nosebleed seats, I am quite certain this was not the case, especially once we were turned away by check-in not once, but twice. Standing what seemed like miles away from LeAnn and her band, I was devastated and near to tears as we stood thirsty and pathetic next to the well-to-do attendees. 

The concert was only moments away from kicking off as a short, round lady carrying a small red bag passed us, 

Excuse me!” daddy said before carrying on a conversation I was unable to hear. 

I imagine he said something like this:

“My daughter is in the fan club, and she has her official fan club card. She thought that meant she could meet her. I know we don’t have the tickets for this but what if you just take her and I wait here? Is there any way you can make this happen? 

The woman stared at me pitifully, in my messy pigtails and frayed green shorts, and sighed, “We have to be quick, the show is about to start.”

Though I was hand-in-hand with the security guard, I had what felt like for the first time a true sense of stepping out on my own. The feeling of the crisp summer wind kissing my cheeks, and the rocky dirt beneath my feet as we ran towards the white tent will remain with me forever. 

We popped into the tent where I was nearly blinded by dazzling lights. The makeshift walls were layered with photos of past visitors gleefully standing next to a shining LeAnn. As my eyes adjusted, LeAnn stood there with an exhausted. I am not sure if she was as shy as I was or slightly annoyed to have a last-minute straggler before running to stage, but she signed my photo, and the crew nudged me next to her as they snapped a photo to hang on the wall. 

Alas, I had met my hero! And I had an autograph to boot!  

LeAnn Rimes Autograph, 1999

Dashing back into my father’s warm embrace, I saw him standing there, tears rolling down his face. I wrapped my little legs around him as he tossed me on his back and ran us to our seats just before the opening song.

This was dad: a man who wanted my dreams to come true, even if that meant staying behind while I stepped out on my own. 

For years I wrestled with the dream of traveling and writing. The ability to take-off and see the world with nothing more than two backpacks seemed unattainable. So, on departure day, while I stood pathetically fumbling with my bags, boots dangling from my backpack and jackets dropping to the ground, five simple words halted the anxious racing of my mind:

“Your daddy would be so proud of you.” My Auntie had texted me. 

Let the adventure begin.