What the hell? In for a penny, in for a pound-though I don’t know the exact weight, as Diane carried that portion (with some of the cost recouped by selling our initial seats-for what we spent-to other friends). (And a fun breakfast gathering this morning, too!)Īnyway, at some point in the weeks prior to the show, friends upgraded their excellent first-level seats for entrance into the “pit,” aka the standing-only section located near the stage, and offered us their old tickets for what they paid. So this Saturday went, at any rate-good friends, food and conversations. It’s a community of like-minded souls reuniting for a day, maybe two, then going their separate ways until next they meet. It’s friends new and old coming together, maybe first at a restaurant for lunch and then at the venue’s parking lot for a tailgate, with some of those folks flying or driving in from far away. The thing about a Springsteen concert is that, at its best, it’s not just about the show. When would I be loved?īut how does that song go again? “Blow away the dreams that tear you apart/Blow away the dreams that break your heart/Blow away the lies that leave you nothing but lost and brokenhearted….” As the day of the concert neared, my apprehension slipped away. Though our seats were much better than the behind-the-stage ones we had in 2009, the Marching Ants show of ‘99 or our “obstructed-view” seats in 1992, I just wasn’t feeling it. I settled for decent side-stage seats near or at face value-but it was impossible to tell, as the Ticketmaster experience is little more than a three-card monte game with usury-rate “service charges” tacked on after the cheat. Rather, the embrace of dynamic pricing by the Springsteen camp, which saw the first (excellent) tickets I attempted to purchase for the show rise $200 after I added them to my check-out cart, left my spirit feeling hacked.
I’ve seen more than my share of expensive shows, mind you, so the high point of entry was never my issue.
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