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It’s a Saturday morning and I’m on a train headed to Chicago. As I look out the window, I can’t help but smile when I think of all the other “chosen ones” in planes, trains and automobiles headed to the same destination, drawn towards this crazy light.

For me, the frenzy started a month or two ago with an excited late night phone call…“David’s coming to Chicago to The House of Blues!!!” Preparations immediately got underway and the resulting strategies for ticket purchases, accommodations, and transportation quickly began to resemble the staging of a coup. If there is one thing that David’s fans can pride themselves in, it would be our communication skills. I am quite sure the FBI is monitoring us for our information exchange capabilities/techniques. I’ve said many times that even if David’s music career tanks, we’re all shoe-ins for positions at the CIA. We are that good.

The night has finally arrived. The anticipation is palpable. The room is dark and filled with excited chatter and people jockeying for positions to be close to “him.” The band is playing their intro. It sounds almost other-worldly and mystical; then suddenly the momentum changes and he appears.

David, the performer, is like an invasion on your senses. When he steps on stage it’s like plugging a power cord into an extension cord which sparks a connection that, simply put, “crackles.” David is not simply a singer, he is a feeling. Tonight is no exception.

It always strikes me how much larger he appears stomping around on the stage. He charges towards us, deliberately, boldly, intensely, with commanding and purposeful strides, at times alternating into a softer, gentler version of his stage self, all the while never relinquishing the reins as he guides us through his musical journey. He is the quintessential story-teller. He is powerful and alluring.

As he leaves, his demeanor is quite different. He appears smaller, younger, more reserved and almost a bit fragile. As I watch the back of his young head and small shoulders retreating from the stage with his short, quick steps, I‘m struck with the feeling, “What just happened?”

I look at my companions, searching for another witness and I see their smiling faces, nodding in wordless communication. My ears are buzzing and the air vibrates with the sound of thunderous applause, hoarse screams and laughter, and I can see that everyone’s eyes are shining…with the light of David Archuleta.

–Joner

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