FRESNO -- Ben's been a security guard at the Save Mart Center for several years. He first got the job to help pay his way through school, he told me.

Ben and I got to be quite good friends Friday evening. I was at the Save Mart Center "on assignment" to cover the American Idol Live! concert, camera bag and notepad in hand, just like the good old days. But I was over an hour early, so had some time to kill. And that's where Ben came in.

We talked about our taste in music, and he told me some wild stories about out-of-control teenage girls at the Chris Brown concert the week before. As the minutes ticked by, vendors and other security staff trickled in as Ben and I chatted. A couple of EMTs walked by pushing an empty gurney. Probably for a passed-out fan, I thought.

I was sitting on the cold, stone floor, listening to what I thought was piped music. It sounded pretty good, and my feet were soon tapping away. Suddenly, the music stopped and I heard laughter coming through the sound system. Then a voice started singing "Let's Get It Started" by the Black Eyed Peas and again I heard a voice say "That was good, that was good."

It was at that moment that I realized it was Them! They were going through sound checks ... and they were just a stone's throw from me.

Suddenly Ben's walkie-talkie crackled: "We are go for doors, we are go for doors!" Fans of every age, shape and size started pouring in. A girl and her brother each carried homemade signs. Hers said "Blake rocks my world." Her brother's said simply "Blake, you rock."

Then it was time. Along with four other members of the media, I was escorted down into the bowels of the Save Mart Center, a bit like walking through an underground maze at an airport. When we reached our destination, we were greeted by the Idol tour PR person, who explained the procedure for taking photos. We had about 10 minutes, she said. First, Blake will be on stage, and then Jordin will join him, coming up on a lift in the middle of the platform ...

The rest frankly was a blur. Within minutes we were standing next to the barricade in front of the stage where we would take pictures, and I made small talk with one of the Save Mart Center's staff as we waited for our cue.

I looked up. A blond-haired guy in a staff uniform walked to the middle of the stage as the announcer welcomed everyone to the concert. He looked kind of familiar, but I couldn't quite place him. Then he pulled off his cap -- and his blond wig -- to reveal spiky brown hair and an impish grin. It was Blake Lewis. Before I had time to hoist my purse and camera bag over my shoulder, the center of the stage opened up, and there was Jordin.

The next 9.8 minutes went by at light speed. I was snapping photos, trying not to fall over the cameramen who were filming for the overhead screens. Before I knew it, I was an arm's length from Chris Richardson, Sanjaya, Gina and Melinda. I wasn't sure if they'd all been dieting, or if TV really does add 15 pounds, but they looked great! Getting swept up in the moment, I suddenly realized how much I missed the reason I got into journalism in the first place.

The fans were going wild. They were screaming and reaching out across the barricade toward the stage. I watched their faces; this was awesome! I looked over at the Idol PR person and smiled. "Thank you," I mouthed.

After three songs, we were motioned away from the stage, and I had to relinquish my camera to the PR person, for "safe-keeping," I was told. I made my way to my seat just a few rows back from the stage. It was L18, but I don't think my rear ever touched the chair. Everyone in the floor area was on their feet, camera cell phones snapping photos and video footage.

Within minutes, my ears were ringing from the loud music and the women screaming wildly behind me. I got caught up in the emotion: "Wuhoo!" I yelled as Sanjaya, dressed in a white jacket, gray T-shirt and red jeans, sang and moonwalked to Michael Jackson's "The Way You Make Me Feel." "Wuhoo!!"

In between songs, the guys joked and ribbed each other. They talked about their friendship, and about the first time they all met. Sanjaya and Chris Sligh remembered "the bald guy," Phil, who good-naturedly went along with the ribbing. They really seem like best friends, I thought to myself.

Then Blake took the stage again, seeming right at home behind the microphone. "Everyone take out your cell phones and wave them like this!" he said, moving his arm from side to side. I looked behind me and the auditorium was suddenly filled with hundreds of fireflies as cell phone screens danced in the dark. It was magic.

Blake took off his jacket, revealing an untucked blue shirt over gray pants. He wrapped one hand around the mic, and the sound of techno filled the air, his beat box rhythm mesmerizing us all with its intensity. The crowd went wild. Did it get any better than this?

The Idols' performances were a whirlwind, one after the other. They ran across the stage, shaking hands with fans, and then back to the middle, hugging each other and acting like they were having such a good time. As each one sang, the stage backdrop showed footage from their initial auditions. These fresh-faced hopefuls had been turned into polished performers, and I secretly wondered if that was a good thing.

After an hour and 15 minutes, it was time for an intermission. I finally sat down. L18, a red plush chair, was comfortable. I had come down from the euphoric adrenaline rush, and I was exhausted. My camera battery had long since died, and my phone's memory was full from the photos I had taken. I didn't relish the thought of battling the traffic when the concert was over, so I decided to go home.

Driving back to Hanford, my ears still ringing, I felt good. I wished I'd gotten to say good-bye to Ben, the security guard, but I was sure he was off somewhere doing the job he said "paid the bills."

What had I enjoyed most about the evening? Sanjaya strutting across the stage, LaKisha, Haley and Gina as dance-hall girls singing "Lady Marmalade," or Jordin singing her heart out in a duet with Chris Robinson? No, I thought to myself. It was being a journalist.

(Sunday, July 22, 2007)