Me

gave me a kiss. “I’m just here to congratulate you,” she said. And then she disappeared as quickly as she appeared. Wow! Madonna! That, I could never have imagined.
    But once again, there was no time to take it all in, or rest, or even celebrate. Instead of basking in the glory of my “Grammy moment,” that night I jumped on a plane to Italy because I had a previous commitment—a perfect example of how chaotic my life was at that time.

THE AVALANCHE
    I HAD WORKED for fifteen years to earn those four minutes on the Grammy stage, which had allowed me to accomplish my goal—to shake up the American music world and open the minds of English speakers to the rhythms of Latin music. Around that time, the New York Times stated that I had “lit the fire of pop music” and that my performance at the Grammys had established me as the “symbol of the new status Latin culture holds in mainstream America.” You see, during this time, the Latino community of the United States was growing at an impressive rate, and my musical success to a certain degree was reflecting—and feeding off of—that very change. Latin culture was beginning to seduce the United States and modify the musical preferences of its inhabitants.
    Just a couple of months after the Grammy Awards ceremony, I released my first album in English, entitled Ricky Martin , just like my first album as a solo artist. It debuted at number one, and sold over 660,000 copies in the United States alone during its first week out, breaking a record. Not only was it the bestselling album that week, but it had one of the best ever sales in just one week of the whole year. I never expected the album to be so huge; even though I had been getting ready for this moment my entire life, when it finally arrived, it took me by surprise. From a professional point of view, I was completely ready to go that far and even farther, but on a personal level it shook me at my very core. It was all so much and so fast that I didn’t know where to look. Life came at me like an avalanche.
    First it was the Grammy Awards, with the spectacular show and my first Grammy. Then, the release of my first album in English, and then almost immediately the single “Livin’ La Vida Loca” debuted as number one on the charts in twenty countries. That year, the song hit number one on Billboard magazine’s list of national sales, number one on the national broadcasting charts, number one on the Latin American broadcasting charts, number one on the Latin sales charts, and so on. Later, the promotional tour kicked off with serious impact: It was a whirlwind of autographing CDs, interviews with the press, photo shoots . . . an explosion! And finally, it was time to begin the concert tour. The response was unbelievable. The tickets for twenty-five shows in the United States went on sale on the same day and they all sold out within just eight minutes, literally as fast as the ticketing systems allowed. As a result, we had to add additional shows in many of the cities, and the tour was not only extended in the United States, but turned out to be massive globally as well. About 4 million people came to see me live on that tour, and in total the album sold close to 17 million copies worldwide.
    And the avalanche continued. It didn’t matter if I was tired or if I was hungry or if I simply wanted to take a nap. Whenever I said, “I need a rest,” my manager would come back with, “Just one more little thing. One more, that’s it.” It’s not that he was a bad person, but the problem was that there was always some other little thing to do! And since every little thing we did would yield such tremendous results, I always wanted to do more. For example, one day they’d come to me and say, “Ricky, Pavarotti called. He wants to do a duet with you.” Who could turn down the honor of a duet with Pavarotti? So the answer was yes. It was such an honor! I always accepted. Then shortly thereafter I’d get another call saying, “Ricky, Giorgio Armani called—he wants to have dinner with you.” Mr. Armani—of course I simply couldn’t say no. I would always say, “All right, I’ll do it this time, but please don’t bring me any more offers.” My manager would promise never to do it again, but later he would come back and say, “Ricky, I am so sorry. I know I told you I wouldn’t bring you anything else, but the thing is that Sting called and he wants you to perform at this benefit concert