One Of The Stupidest Things I’ve Ever Done

For some reason I’ve been listening to the songs of my teens and young adulthood this week. That means Meat Loaf, Queen, Styx (the Tommy Shaw songs, not Dennis DeYoung), Steve Miller Band, the Cars, and of course, Bruce Springsteen. I still love this music, and I still know all of the lyrics, even the silly ones (and some of them are pretty darn silly).

I think that I’ve already mentioned my young-adult infatuation with Bruce Springsteen. I don’t listen to him much anymore, though. That’s because listening him always reminds me of One Of The Stupidest Things I’ve Ever Done.

Excuse me a minute – Hey, Margie – if you’re reading this, I don’t think Mom knows about this little incident. So maybe we could keep it between ourselves and the Internet, okay? Thanks.

So, I was a very young adult – no more than 22. The Born in the USA album had come out and Bruce was touring. He hadn’t started to play the really huge venues yet, so he was still at the old Spectrum in Philadelphia. Because Philly loved Bruce, he was there for six or seven nights. I went to see him on the second night of the run, and I was completely wowed.

Another aside – if you never saw Bruce play live when he was in his prime, you really missed something.

Anyway, as I said, a friend of mine and I went to see him, but our tickets were on the floor. Everyone stood on their chairs for the whole night and I couldn’t see a blessed thing. The fact that the concert was still awesome in spite of that says something. I really, really wanted to see him again.

I had heard a rumour – probably more of an urban myth – that Bruce always held back tickets for his shows. He would make them available to people waiting in line who didn’t have tickets – you just had to be in the right place at the right time. I talked to another girl who was a friend of the friend I’d gone with, and we decided to try to see if we could get in.

Let’s recap – I did not know the girl with whom I was making plans – she was my friend’s friend, not mine. I did not know if tickets would indeed be made available. I did not know if I had any hope in hell of getting them if they were.

Okay, since this girl lived in Northeast Philadelphia. I told her that I would meet her at her house. I had never in my life driven to Philadelphia. I did not know Northeast Philadelphia. Better yet, I did not know the girl’s last name. I barely knew her first name. The only time I’d met her was the night we’d decided to do this. I might have had her phone number, but there were no cell phones back then and I wasn’t sure where I could go to make a phone call. But I agreed to meet her at her house.

I got lost.

So here I am wandering around Northeast Philly. I finally found her street, but I couldn’t find her house. Finally, as I stood staring at the houses and wondering what I should do, a couple walked past. They said “we think that house has a girl” and pointed.  I thanked them and went to the house they indicated.

Again, a recap. I am in Northeast Philadelphia, a place I’d never been, to meet a girl who’s name I did not really know. I had asked strangers on the street to point me to a house, and on their word I went to that house and rang the bell.

You know, just typing this is giving me the shivers. This was INCREDIBLY dangerous. And INCREDIBLY stupid.

But then miracles occurred. It turned out to be the right house. The girl and I went to the Spectrum. Tickets were not available. so we bought scalped tickets. But the scalped tickets were not counterfiet. We did not get arrested for buying them. Although the Spectrum held at least 20,000 people, and the tickets were in completely different, separate sections, we managed to find each other at intermission, and then again after the show was over. (Oh, and the show was awesome – it was the best seat I’ve ever had for a concert).

Wow. I have done some REALLY stupid things in my life, but this is right up there at the top of the list. Looking back, I realize that anything could have happened at any point along the way. I have to tell you, seriously, that when I need evidence of a divine presence in my life, I only have to think about this little adventure. My guardian angel was drinking whiskey straight from the bottle after this one was over.

And that’s why I have trouble listening to Bruce Springsteen now. Because listening to him makes me feel stupid. I still like some of the music, though. However, now that I’ve told you this story, I’m going to switch to classical until my nerves settle.

And I have absolutely no explanation for this –