"Let her through," I said to the guards, I appreciate being able to shop unmolested, but there's such a thing as professional curtosy, "That's Tori Fleeping Amos," I said, "let her through, she probably has a photo of Roswell she wants me to sign."
But it turns out I was a little mixed up -- Devoted Sattelite had gotten VIP tickets to the Tori show for my birthday. So they dragged about 50 of us in, plopped us down in the first two rows of the empty Tower Theater, and there was a little private show (sort of like a musical lap dance).
She played Precious Things so I was happy. But dang, I'm beat now. Sleeeep!