Ditched

Nearly three months ago, I bought my tickets to the Springsteen concert that is taking place at Nationals stadium in D.C. on September 14th.  My date has never seen Bruce, and so, after three months of me playing Bruce whenever we were together (and often singing at the top of my lungs as we rolled down the highway), he informed me that he wouldn't be able to make it to the concert, after all.

What could possibly be more pressing?  A root canal?  Community Service?  Helping the homeless?  Moving?

Was it my singing "Hidin' on the backstreets, hidin' on the backstreets, hidin' on the backstreets" nineteen times in a row with the windows rolled down as we drove through the shadiest part of the D.C. ghetto?

"It's alright to go hidin' on the backstreets, it's alri-i-ight. . ."

No, that was apparently endearing.

The reason is that there was a babysitting glitch.  Understood.

But he's still missing the greatest entertainer ever, with the greatest girl ever.

I wasn't real worried about finding a replacement date.  I made a phone call up north.  "Listen, I have two Bruce tickets for the concert on Friday. My date ditched me.  Make it happen."

Twenty minutes later, I got a text from my brother, Cliff.  "I'm in."

Let me tell you, I couldn't have chosen a better replacement date.  (Though I don't want Jim or John or Dana or Kathy or Jessica to feel like they're chopped liver either).

So today, as I thought about the concert, and how we're going to make it by the skin of our teeth because his flight gets in at 6 in Baltimore (the Orioles lost against the Yankees, don't ya know?), and we have to be in D.C. by 7:30.  And if you can believe it, Cliff's navigational skills are worse than mine, and I sure hope I don't blow a tire or need any kind of mechanical assistance. . .  though, he'd probably be pretty good at reading the car manual.

I'm just kidding.  It's going to be great! 

Your eyes get itchy in the wee wee hours,
Sun's just a red ball risin' over them refinery towers,
Radio's jammed up with gospel stations,
Lost souls callin' long distance salvation,
Hey Mr. DJ, won't ya hear my last prayer,
Hey ho rock 'n roll deliver me from nowhere!

[Open All Night - Mr. Bruce Springsteen]