Who’s the Boss?

Dear Readers,

I should have warned you both that I’d be on vacation – sorry!

Vacation technically started last Thursday, July 31 when Live Music Companion and I took a bus to New Jersey to see The Boss. Coincidentally, Kate and her cousin Claire had tickets to the same show so the four of us headed out to the Meadowlands together on New Jersey Transit and you know how people say “The line for that bus was around the block!”? No? Well, imagine that people say that and then imagine that it’s actually true when you speak of Meadowlands event buses that depart from Port Authority. Literally for the four blocks surrounding Port Authority, you could tell who was in line for this show (mostly people in Springsteen t-shirts or people with six-packs of Coors not-so-stealthily hidden to be consumed on the 30-minute bus ride to East Rutherford. Dear Tri-State Area, I’m so glad you haven’t forgotten about the concept of a party bus. I myself forgot about it sometime between Senior Week and graduation, but you keep that party alive, guys!). We four were all pretty starving when we got to the stadium – it was either hunger or some other gut feeling related to fear, as our bus driver texted the entire way there while hauling through the Lincoln Tunnel – so we decided to coat our stomachs with the world’s most perfect food, Cheese-Stuffed Pretzels. Meadowlands has some delicious food and drink, most of which starts at $8 and gets more delicious the more you have to pay for it.

Kate and Claire had tickets in the first tier and we were up in the third, though don’t think that just because those guys were slightly closer to the stage that their view of incoming planes landing at Newark was obstructed. We all had great seats for that. I remarked to my Live Music Companion at some point before the E Street Band took the stage that it was sort of curious that the glassed-in owners box would be even higher up, above Tier 3, to which he replied that that was so the rich folks wouldn’t have to smell the stink of the common men below. Which, really is the only acceptable response from someone holding tickets to a Springsteen show.

For the uninitiated, such shows (especially ones in his homeland) are epic and this one clocked in at over three hours, no opener or anything. Luckily, a lot of his fans are older and like to sit as much as I do, so I didn’t have to stand the whole time. For those of you who take the subway, you know how sometimes on your commute a seat opens up and someone says to someone else “Please, sit” and the someone else says “No, thanks, I sit all day!”? That doesn’t factor in for me, I sit all day and would like to continue sitting well into the night. Sometimes at the gym I use the sitty-looking stationary bike that kind of reclines because I’ve convinced myself it’s like easy exercise. So when you are four miles away from even the giant jumbotron screen, most people around you are accepting of your choice to be seated.But for a guy who is like 58 or something, Bruce: a) has an ass that won’t quit and b) has boundless energy and tends to writhe onstage which is probably why his wife stays in the band, for the view.

The next thing I realized at the show was that “Dancing in the Dark”, and not “Born to Run” or some other actual “classic”, was the first Bruce song I ever heard and can we all just take a minute to discuss the fact that so much time has passed since that song was a single that the spritely young androgyne named Courteney Cox who was featured in the video is now doing anti-aging cosmetics ads? I bet she wishes she could Kin-erase those high tops right out of the video. Is that nuts? I feel like it is. Then we all got in another line for the bus home and were asleep at the ungodly hour of 2:30am.

The rest of my vacation involved a ton of chowdah, some beach time and a lot of niece time. And a Friendly’s Wattamelon Roll dessert treat which is entirely underrated. I promise to write more sometime.

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