It was summertime 1993 in New Jersey, and I was ten years old. My intensely long blonde ponytail was tied back by a neon scrunchie and easily blew outside the window of my neighbors’ gray boat-sized Oldsmobile. My fellow toe-headed best friend and I sat in the plush backseat as her twelve-year-old-brother blasted hip-hop from his shot-gun position. Looking back, I can’t believe we were exposed to the intentionally foul lyrics of 2 Live Crew, Too Short, LL Cool J, and, of course, Snoop Dogg. But really, although Philly was minutes away, we knew nothing of the ghetto, sexuality, or gun toting. Our ignorance kept our innocence fairly preserved, but in only weeks I knew every lyric. My most palpable memory is how freakin’ cool I felt to be in that car, in thanks to hip-hop itself.

Ironically, fast-forward to March 19, 2008 outside of LA’s Crimson, and I felt less cool than ever. My fiancé Drew and I picked up the little red bracelets that assured our admission to Snoop Dogg’s show from a guy in Snoop’s crew around 8PM but by the time we came back at 11:30 the club was in utter chaos. With an attire of Nike kicks, over-sized jackets, and neon mini dresses, it felt like trying to get in the hip-hop Superbowl without a ticket, while 500 other people have the same brilliant idea. I frantically waved my wrist in the air obnoxiously shouting, “I have a red bracelet!” but not a soul cared as Schraeder Boulevard flooded with police and massive bodyguards demanding that we clear the streets. However, thanks to a mixture of gusto and pure selfishness, Drew and I pushed through the crowd in a slew of, “Sorry, excuse me’s” until we found ourselves behind the guard of the guest list line. There we were so tightly packed that my feet literally rose from the ground. Unfortunately, thanks to my part-time modeling career and, thus, dwindled down bootie, paired with only jeans and a T-shirt, my pleads were no match to those of the bleach-blonde, cleavagey, J-LO shaped honeys. Therefore, after an hour of watching dozens of girls get in, we decided to leave.

Right then the heavens seemed to part as an angelic voice sung, “Oh, you 2 have red bracelets? Come on in!” We crossed the threshold of Crimson feeling victorious and, while waving goodbye to the hundreds left outside, incredibly grateful.

Crimson’s interior, which was not a venue but a nightclub, was generously spacious, giving us plenty of room to wander around and catch The Girls’ Next Door’s Kendra canoodling with all the handsome brothers as well as miscellaneous peeps like Bill Maher and the seemingly MIA Tom Green. Thank God- it seems I’m not the only dorky white person to be in awe of Snoop.

On our adventure, we sought our friend from the crew until we found him in the VIP, which was merely a raised box area heavily guarded by intimidating men in black leather. Drew and I waved to him from the side of the dance floor when suddenly Snoop rose and parted his entourage like the red sea with mic in hand. I screamed like a little BSB fan, “We’re in the front row!” This was shocking because in actuality, no one knew where he’d perform. It was a dice game and we won, major.

Grasping a diamond encrusted microphone reading, in epic lettering, SNOOP DOGG, he opened with the classic words “Lodi Dodi” and it was on from there. Snoop intermixed favorites from Doggystyle to his latest album, Ego Trippin’ with ease and never missed a beat. To be honest, neither did I. I am nearly positive that he laughed directly at me after watching me sing every last lyric of “Gin and Juice”. If only he knew I did the same at 10 years old…in a scrunchie.

Speaking of fashion, everyone on stage was flawless. It was such a blast to watch all the bling sparkle, the entourage sweat in their crazy hoodies, and see the sexy ladies they chose to accompany them on stage. Not to mention, every guy double fisted bottles of alcohol that would take me a month to save up for. All that decadence and flash is really like watching a literal representation of the boastful, fun music itself.

Bonus factors included Too Short rolling up to perform a few classics and his new joint “Blow the Whistle.” Too Short! Enough said. Not to mention, it was exhilarating to watch Snoop get fired up by his own songs. It was clear that he has a lot of pride and fresh appreciation for his latest album. Whenever one of the new beats spun, his eyes lit up as his face transformed into something on fire. It was incredible to see that after all these years and a litter of puppies at home, performing still seems as fresh a passion as it may have been in ’93. I was blown away by the unmistakable joy he has in this career.

All in all, when Snoop Dogg hits your hood, you must go. Don’t let this be the show you can’t tell the kids about. Actually, if you miss it, I’ll tell your kids and they’ll think I’m cooler than you – even for a dorky white girl.

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