“Coming right up, Miss. Is this your first time here?”

“Yes. I have to admit, I didn’t think there’d be so many women in here.”

“It’s not usually like this, but they’ve been packing the place ever since the news broke.”

“You mean about A.J.?”

“That’s right. All these mothers have been coming in here to escape their screaming kids.”

“I can understand that. All I’ve heard is crying and screaming. My Kim is broken hearted over it. All week long it has been nothing but ‘I want the Backstreet Boys and I want them now!'”

“Did you mention that the boys are going to make up those dates in September?”

“Yes, but it didn’t do any good. Kim kept crying and screaming.”

“You might try mentioning some other concerts, like Vanilla Fudge or David Lee Roth.”

“Oh, I tried that. I also mentioned The Guess Who, Rollins Band and Vision Of Disorder, but it didn’t do any good. All Kim wants is the Backstreet Boys.”

“Maybe if you gave Kim a present.”

“Tried that, too. I even offered to buy a puppy, and I’m allergic to dogs. I’ve bought CDs by Maxwell, Janet Jackson and Saliva. Heck, I even bought a bottle of Kim’s favorite Scotch, but nothing would stop the crying.”

“I guess it’s tough being a parent and… and… Did you say Scotch?”

“That’s right. A 12-year-old bottle of Glenlivet, but Kim kept screaming, ‘I want the Backstreet Boys. I want the Backstreet Boys.'”

“You gave your little girl a bottle of Scotch?”

“Uh? Oh, no. Kim’s not my daughter.”

“Whew. You had me worried there.”

“Kim’s my husband.”

“What? Your husband is a Backstreet Boys fan?”

“Oh, no, it’s worse than that.”

“What do you mean?”

“He’s the promoter.”