I'd been hearing rumors that the Mary Lee's Corvette version of Blood On The
Tracks was being played as intro music before some of Dylan's shows around the country. Our "You're A Big Girl Now" had been on his website for awhile. So my manager decided to try and get me an opening slot on the Dylan tour. "Yea yea yea" I said. Don't bother me with these silly visions." But he disregarded my cynicism and kept in touch with Bob's people.

On August 13, 2003, New York City was one link in a chain of the now historic "biggest blackout in history". Dylan was supposed to play at The Hammerstein Ballroom that night. Needless to say, it didn't happen and was rescheduled for the following Wednesday, August 20. The Monday before, at about 9:30 AM, I got a call from Clear Channel Concert Promotions asking if I could do a show that Wednesday. "I could probably get it together," I supposed. "It's Dylan," they said. "Consider me available," I announced. They said they'd get back to me.

I immediately called everyone — Andy, Brad, Joe, Graham — telling them we were on hold to open for Bob Dylan and could they make it. They all found a way to adjust their schedules. We figured we should rehearse and thought we'd do it on the way to the venue on Wednesday. I of course didn't get confirmation that the gig was happening till about 26 hours before our showtime. Then everyone went into high gear.

I actually was able to get some sleep that night. I woke up happy and excited and told my husband "I'm going to enjoy every minute of this day." After my first cup of coffee I got a call from Dylan's production manager asking if I had my own sound man and sound board. A low level panic set in. "No," I told him. It turned out I was going to have to rely on the kindness of Dylan's crew to let us use Dylan's PA and to do our sound for us. Apparently this wasn't the first time something like this had happened and I was assured it would all work out. And it did.

We arrived at the Hammerstein at 2:30 and proceeded to wait. This was the same venue where we'd had the odd experience of being the only American band on some bizarre Russian rock show where the audience was given rubber balls upon entering the place to throw at the bands. It somehow represented freedom. It hurt. Anyway, we were assuming the rubber balls came with that event, not the venue, and were optimistic that we wouldn't be bruised during the show.

We started soundcheck at around 4:30. It was proceeding well, in a very business-like fashion. We ran through one song. Then another. Then one more. Then I turned around to say something to Graham and standing about 8 feet away was the familiar face of Tony Garnier. Next to him was a guy, not too tall, in a cowboy hat. Then it hit me: That's Bob Dylan. He's on stage listening to my soundcheck. Our eyes met, I hesitated, then took the bold step of waving my hand at him ever so slightly. He smiled and nodded. It was an indescribable sensation. A thrill like out of a dream where you know you're flying even though you're sure you can't.

I turned around and announced to the sound man that we'd do a bit of our first song. But none of us was able to stop. We did the whole song, too excited not to rock with all our might.

The evening proceeded. We did our show which was fun and fantastic and very well received by the audience. The fastest 40 minutes of my life. And all of this on the birthday of my husband! A magical day indeed.

The morning of the blackout, before the lights went out, I woke up in a darkness all my own. I'd just experienced a glorious 3 months opening for Joe Jackson all over the world but had no other major tours on the books. I was feeling bad. Something bold inside me made me demand a great gift from the universe that morning. "You are going to send me something good today. It might not reach me today, but you're sending it today!" I don't know if it was the gods or UPS ground that intercepted my order, or just regular mail. But someone heard me and delivered the goods big time.