The Moment

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So that's Springsteen concert #31 and whenever I mention that I'm going to see Bruce I get a lot of weird looks.

What's wrong with you?

Plenty, I suppose, but seeing Bruce isn't one of my major problems.

Look at that photo.

What's better than that?

I can recall tremendous details of those 31 nights. I've been to concerts with a lot of people that I love.

The Friday night show at Nationals Park didn't come easy. It was Carrie's second ticket. Friends from down there crapped out on her. I was third in line for the ticket, and I didn't think it was possible.

"Go," my beautiful wife said. "Why wouldn't you?"

I flew in and out. I only spent about 17 hours in the area. Bruce played for nearly 4 hours.

We also had a bit of a problem as we got to our seats. We were chatting with Oriole-Bruce fans (they were halfway decent people) and I was bumped from behind and spilled three drops of beer on the woman in front of us. I apologized, but it wasn't good enough for her husband who clearly didn't want to be there, and certainly wanted a fight.

"Get a napkin!" he screamed at all of us.

I wouldn't fight with him. I moved away after we wiped the woman's seat down.

But the youngsters, who had a bit more beer, did fight with him. The old bastard wouldn't let anything go, taunted the kids, and aggravated and agitated. He was truly intent on ruining someones night.

The arguing went back and forth until one of the twenty-somethings dumped a full beer over the head of the woman.

"Get a napkin now!" the kid screamed.

But the night could not be ruined, for anyone.

Bruce sang of love, of course. He spoke of faith, again. He begged us to smile. My face hurt from smiling. He talked of rising up and redemption.

I can never get sick of that.

And he worked hard all night. He ran, he slid, he jumped, he joked, he sang, and sang, and sang.

"I'd love to hear them do Racing in the Street," Carrie said on the car on the way in.

She called it on the first note.

Gotta' '69 Chevy with a 396

Now there's wrinkles around my baby's eyes and she cries herself to sleep each night

And then the piano solo by the Professor.

It's a long solo on the album.

It was an unbelievable demonstration on Friday night.

Five minutes, ten minutes, close to fifteen.

"This is the moment," I said to Carrie.

"Absolutely."

She had tears in her eyes.

The tears were gone as Bruce played Twist and Shout to close the night at 11:55 p.m. (He had taken the stage at 8:23.

We should all work like that. Every day. Every ounce of energy. Empty the tank.

He'd done American Land the song before; playing tribute to Jeff, of course.

Am I crazy for seeing him that many times?

I'll let you know next month when he visits Rochester.


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