Monday, May 12, 2008
Rule No. 1: Always bring the GPS
Ray Stubblefield
Recent columns
A few weeks ago I did something that I haven't done in quite some time. I went to a rock concert.
My buddy, John, and I went to see Bruce Springsteen in Greensboro. Were we trying to recapture our lost youth? Hardly. I don't think we're that much in denial about our age.
It's just that John has always liked Bruce and swore if he ever came close enough to where John lived, he would go see him. So back around Christmas John got tickets and we marked our calendars.
I've never been much of a concertgoer. My natural inclination is to stay away from crowds, noise and controlled chaos (don't ask me why I teach), which is what a rock concert is mostly about.
It's no secret that concert tickets are worth more than gold. But when friends ask me to go, I say yes, and in the end, I'm usually glad I went.
My first concert in 1971 starred the Allman Brothers Band. This was when the group still had all its original members and was nearing its zenith.
A few years back I saw Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan at a Farm Aid Concert. Willie and Bob were well past their zenith, and their performance that night left me disappointed.
Gosh, I can't believe I just trashed the legendary Willie Nelson and Bob Dylan. But if the old classics we all know and love had originally been sung the way they were that night, Bob and Willie would be flipping burgers for a living.
Apparently I wasn't the only one to feel this way. The aisles were full of people leaving long before Dylan's performance ended. But my wife wisely said I needed to cut these old boys some slack because they were even older than me.
At 58, Bruce Springsteen is no spring chicken, but he still has it. What a performance! But I'm getting ahead of myself.
I met John at his house and we drove down in his more fuel-efficient Nissan Maxima. I asked if he knew how to get there, and he said sure, he had gotten directions from the Internet.
I almost brought my GPS along, but thought it would ruin the sense of adventure and tarnish our reputations as the expert pathfinders every American male assumes he is. Mistake No. 1.
Greensboro and I have never really bonded, especially when it comes to navigation.
I don't go often, but every time I go there, I get lost. U.S. 220 South turns into Battleground, which turns into something else before it turns back into 220.
And to get back home, you just reverse the directions and you're there, right? That was the plan anyway.
It was still light when we parked across from the coliseum. Feeling lucky just to have found the place, we didn't really pay too much attention to which side of the building we entered. Mistake No. 2.
The tickets said the performance would start at 7:30, so we got there 30 minutes early. Mistake number three.
We wondered why hardly anyone had shown up for a Springsteen concert. Apparently starting a show an hour late is par for the course, and by 8:30 the place was full of hip concertgoers.
The lights went down, and the E Street Band and Bruce made it onstage. The concert was finally starting, and for the next three hours, they belted out song after song and Bruce ran around the stage with all the energy of an 18-year-old.
There were dedicated fans of all ages there who knew every word to every song and who stayed on their feet the entire time, swaying to the music and singing along. If they could just touch the hem of his garment.
I felt like an impostor, masquerading as a disciple, afraid I would be discovered. I have to confess, I knew a few words to a few songs and that was it.
Sorry, Bruce, I wasn't worthy, but in the end, the $95 for the price of the ticket covered all my transgressions.
We finally made it home two hours later than we should have. Never again will I leave for uncharted shores without my GPS.
Exhausted, happy and half deaf from all the loud music, it was 1:30 before my head hit the pillow. I fell asleep with my ears still ringing, glad I had gone to see Bruce, thinking that this is what it feels like to be a teenager again.
Only thing was, I wasn't a teenager anymore, and I had to go to work in the morning. Was it worth it? You bet.
And John, remember rule No. 1. Always, always bring the GPS.
Stubblefield, who teaches earth science at Franklin County High School, is a Roanoke Times columnist.
