JT in the hizzle

I'm a little delayed on this post, but I knew I couldn't go any longer without writing about my experience at the Justin Timberlake concert last Friday at the Verizon Center.

I thought my teenybopper days were behind me, but when the opportunity arose to see my favorite original boybander-turned-legitimate-and-respected-artist/musician in his solo element, I couldn't pass up the chance. After all, FutureSex / LoveSounds is a pretty great album that's ok for even the hipsters to love.

After making our way to our seats and taking in a couple mediocre Pink songs, Steph and I decided it was time for a drink and a tour of the good ol' merch table. Ah, my favorite part of any concert. The only difference was that instead of looking at artsy t-shirts and posters from one of my random indie bands, we were presented with tour programs, key chains, shirts emblazoned with Justin's face, and my personal favorite, a pair of gym shorts with SexyBack written across the behind. Let's just say that after a few early evening cocktails at Fado, Steph could not resist the urge. I, however, kept my credit card in my wallet as I flashed back to 1999 and the Backstreet Boys Millennium Tour when I dropped $40 on an oversized t-shirt that ended up collecting dust on my shelf until I gave it away to some unsuspecting recipient.

Anyway, back to the show. By the time JT came on we were pumped. Despite the fact that he appeared only 3 inches tall from our vantage point, we screamed like little girls when he took the stage in his fancy suit and white sneaks. The stage setup in the middle of the arena was a little awkward -- there was no jumbotron and some of the screens occasionally blocked the view of JT -- but he did a pretty good job of making his way around to the different sides of the arena and playing to the crowd.

After a couple tunes, Justin does the "What up, Washington, DC!?!" speech to make the crowd feel special and explain how happy he is to be there. Then he launches into his responsible celebrity lecture about his visit to Walter Reed hospital and the troops, which would be fine for "Inside the Actor's Studio," but c'mon Justin, it's Friday night and we're trying to relax and be shallow and have a good time. Buzzzzzkill.

Oddly and without warning, less than hour into the show Justin disappears down the nifty circle-stage into the ground, presumably for a quick outfit change between songs...

Then clips of music videos project on the screen as a DJ (ok, pretty sure it was Timbaland) plays a mix of some crowd favorites -- Nelly Furtado, The Fray, someotherpopsongIdon'tknow, more Nelly Furtado -- and suddenly I feel like I'm watching a 99.5 commercial. Where did you go, Justin? Needless to say, my $7 lite beer buzz is donezo after this unexpected intermission that seemed to last forever.

As expected, Justin saved fan favorites "Cry Me A River" and "SexyBack" for the second half or the show, and he even got all profesh and sat behind a piano and strummed a guitar for a few tracks. Not bad, JT, not bad at all. But if I were him, I'd stick to the dancing, cause that's what he does best. I'm such a sucker for those choreographed moves, especially after getting sucked in to MTV's latest J.Lo-produced reality, "Dancelife."

While I regret not catching JT when he played the 9:30 Club (yup, you heard me) last summer, there's something special about paying an exorbitant amount for the big stadium show. There's just a certain camaraderie you can't help but feel when you're standing in that long bathroom line next to the girl with the homemade, shoddily puffy-painted "I Heart Justin" t-shirt. While you would probably never be friends with this person in real life, for that brief time you are under the same roof as Justin, you could be best friends. And that, my friends, is priceless.