It all started in the summer of 2008 when I first met MJ. We met during my first PR co-op work term when I was back home in PEI
Canada Day weekend was fast approaching, and we had no game plan. This was a first. We planned for everything. So why hadn’t we planned something fun on one of the biggest party weekends? Simply put? Beats me.
By the time Friday rolled around, we were willing to admit that we were losers. Until… we were told that someone in the office would win tickets to The Festival of Lights- a concert full weekend. It’s known as PEI
MJ and I contemplated spending five bucks each for simply the chance to win. What were our odds? Was it even worth it? After debating over lunch, and over our coffee breaks, we finally caved. We each regretfully pulled out five bucks, and crossed our fingers.
At the end of the day, I had forgotten about the tickets. I knew we hadn’t won. But then I heard yelling and screaming coming from the other side of the building - MJ’s division. I ran over to the Tourism department, where they told me that I was the lucky winner. Me? I don’t win anything. Seriously. And here I was, holding two licensed VIP tickets valued at $231.85 each.
Pumped, we planned for a great night ahead of us. So off we went to the concerts that evening, enjoyed the VIP tent - and not just because it served beer. When the concerts ended, we continued our evening at a few random bars in the city.
When we got to our final stop for the night, we headed into the bar, a bar that my sister was working in at the time. She came over, laughed, and told me that Chris Daughtry and his band were upstairs in the private bar. Was she kidding? Regardless, that’s all I needed to hear. We were going up to meet them. So, with a bit of liquid courage, I went up to the bouncer, and explained my situation- “I NEED to meet Daughtry. He’s a good friend of mine.” Clearly, he knew I was full of shi…beer. But we somehow mustered our way upstairs. When we sat down, I was pissed. Daughtry was nowhere to be found.
MJ told me to turn around. At this point, she had already left our booth and was happily chatting with the band members in their booth directly behind ours. Instead of rushing over, I contemplated calling Mom to get her to book me an eye appointment until I realized it was 2 a.m. But seriously, how did I not see the band right behind me?
So there we were hanging out with Daughtry all night. Chris had just signed MJ’s liquor store receipt when he turned to me to ask if I wanted his autograph. I said no. I might have added “thanks” at the end, but I can’t remember.
What? It’s not that weird right? I honestly didn’t have any paper, or memorabilia of Daughtry for him to sign, so why bother? It’s fine, I didn’t hurt his feelings… he laughed it off, told me I was hilarious and life went on.
So after hanging out with them for a few hours, they gave us two backstage passes to meet the other bands that weekend and see them again to take photos. Cool. Now we’re groupies.
The next day, in between concerts, we went backstage. I was sure they wouldn’t remember our names, until I heard two of the band members yell out “Hey Sheila,” and “Hey MJ.” They remembered us, this was cool.
After taking our cheesy picture, and meeting some of the other bands, who I had never heard of at the time... Mariana’s Trench? MJ and I grinned and looked at each other. We couldn't wait to tell our hilarious story about the time we didn’t want to waste five bucks to our coworkers on Monday. 
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