Well, here we go. Three dates in the Northeast. Five including PA, which doesn't count as the Northeast, but this is Hanson, remember. They think Mansfield is Boston. There is one Boston date. They're saying Boston. They could mean Mansfield. Or Worcester. Or Lowell.

Then we have to get tickets, which could get complicated because we're in MOE. Do we get real tickets or MOE tickets? What if more than one of us tries for MOE tickets and they all fall through? What if we both get them? Then there's four extra tickets that we don't need, and someone has needlessly blown all of their MOE tickets for the whole tour. What if none of us get them and we have to stand in line at Ticketmaster in the groveling mass, and we sit on the ceiling. I fancy myself way too good a Hanson fan to sit on the ceiling. What if there are geographic restrictions on the MOE tickets, where you have to show three pieces of ID and proof of residence to get them? Actually, I'd probably get them then. I mean, this is Boston and Hanson we're talking about. There aren't that many of us. What if, because of the suspicious lack of Northeast dates, none of us get any of them, and I'm stuck in my dorm room crying on September 21 in my pajamas eating Ben and Jerry's Coffee Heath Bar Crunch while my roommate watches the Practice?

If you live in Ohio, I bet you're a really happy person.

We could always travel. But traveling involves cars and Amtrak and money and kind people to stay with and days without food and showers.

I am getting an image. It is of my sister. She is laying on the floor, her curly hair splayed everywhere, her cheek pressed against the floor. The sticky, much traversed, bacterial-zoo of a floor. It is 1:00 in the morning and we are in Penn Station, New York City. We are just returning from seeing Hanson on TRL. We have been in the city for 12 hours. We are exhausted, dirty, unable to speak, and falling asleep. We traveled for one day. I can't imagine our shape after two or three. I want you to picture sleeping on the Amtrak, on a car without beds. You have to sprawl across two seats and your feet dangle off the edge into the aisle. The banging and clacking of the train wakes you up about every hour and at 4:00 your eyes open and you're still three hours from home. You're in a nondescript part of Connecticut and it doesn't matter because all you can see out the windows are little dots of streetlights in the darkness. Your back is sore. You've been in the same clothes for 24 hours. You are with three other people and between you, there is only one copy of This Time Around, which means that you're fighting for it all the way back to Boston. Sleeping with headphones on is hard because they dig into your head and slip off, but you don't care because it's better than hearing the train. You get off in Boston at 7:00 AM and you've slept for 2 hours, tops. Now you have to walk to the T. You have done all of this, for Hanson. You will do it again, you're sure.

All of the Northeast shows happen in a single week. It is the second week of September. The second week of September is my second week of school. I am a junior in college. My friend Meghan, who also enjoys Hanson enough to screw up her life for them, is starting college, for the very first time, that week. My sister is a senior in high school who should be worrying about her grades. Hanson are homeschooled. I, however, am not comfortable Bringing My Books on the Road. Generally. But Hanson is not a general situation. For Hanson, I may do it. For Hanson, I may skip an entire week of school and attend classes around the Boston show, while I'm undoubtedly exhausted and distracted. Because that's the thing. Even if I don't go to the show, I'm not getting any work done. I have selective ADD. It has three specific catalysts. They're all blonde and from Oklahoma.

Am I willing to flunk out of school for Hanson? Maybe.

And I understand their logic... We started with the Northeast last time, so we'll end with you this time. Gee thanks guys. That's just great. But what does Florida have over me? Are they cooler, more interesting, more dedicated than me? Yeah, the weather's better down there, I suppose. Oh. Boston on September 21. They must want to see the foliage. Of course. Dear Hanson, there are no pretty leaves in Boston. It's a city. There, now that that's cleared up, how about you schedule one more show, in like July. At the Orpheum theater. And invite me as your personal guest because I'm so beautiful? Love, Laura.

What if I spend all of my money, energy and sanity trying to get tickets to some far away show and actually succeed? The reservations are made. The tickets are bought. The clothes are laid out. The bank account is empty. And they schedule six more shows, in the Majestic Theater at Emerson College and put up a flyer saying that they need Emerson students to act as personal masseuses in the Hanson dressing room? If I didn't love Hanson so much, I would hate Hanson.

And even with all of the aggravation, I know I'm going to go. I know I'm going to skip classes and lie to my mom and cross several state lines and break the bank and cry and tear my hair out and list "poster board" as a living expense on my tax return and not shower for days on end. (You know, of course, that we'd finally meet them for the first time at the very last show, when I have dirty hair and bags under my eyes and I haven't eaten in three days.) And so... for the dedicated among us... Here's to an empty wallet and Amtrak and sleepless nights and an F in Advanced Magazine Writing and my mother's perpetual scorn.

Because somewhere along the line, we figured out two undeniable realities: Seeing them doesn't quench the urge to see them, and Hanson, at any cost, is worth it. The This Time Around Tour? Bring it on.