The first concert I ever went to was when I was 16 years and
6 months old. This was way back…way, way, way back in 1986 when the price of a
floor seat ticket to see Rush at Meadowlands Arena was $15.50. Yes, there is
indeed a dot between those two fives. That’s right, I paid less than twenty
bucks to go to that show and sit in the 40th row.
The monetary cost of the tickets was not, however, the only price I paid to go
to that concert 37 years ago. That concert also cost me my integrity. Knowing
that my overprotective parents would never let me go to a rock concert in a
million years, what with the loud noises and alcohol consumption and people
wearing leather, I lied and said I was going to the movies and then sleeping
over at my friend Chris’s house. The second part was actually true—I did sleep
over at my friend Chris’s house that night, but we did not, in fact, go to the
movies. This lie was the most rebellious moment of my young life. I was
terrified that I might be caught in the lie, but my excitement over seeing my
favorite band outweighed my terror and I did the horrible deed. I felt guilty
about the lie and proceeded to have the time of my life.
Cut to last night. My oldest son is currently 16 years and 6 months old, and I
took him to his first concert. We paid a mere $75 per ticket to see the Red Hot
Chili Peppers in the upper, upper deck of State Farm Stadium. Indeed, if we
were any higher up, I think local air traffic controllers may have had to help
us navigate to our seats.
Despite the dizzying heights at which we sat, my son and I had a blast. Yes,
famed bassist, Flea, looked about the size of a flea from our vantage point,
but there were two massive screens on either side of the stage showing close-up
views of the band, so we were able to keep track of their frenetic movements
throughout the entire 90-minute show. And while there were definitely loud
noises, people consuming alcohol nearby, and even one dude wearing leather
(despite the fact that we’re in Arizona and it was close to 100-degrees out) I
didn’t feel like I was corrupting my son all that much. Instead, we were just
digging on the music together. While my first concert was a rebellious moment,
my son’s was a bonding moment.
Don’t get me wrong—I’m not naïve enough to think that my son is never going to
rebel as long as I keep on buying overpriced concert tickets. I just know that
for now, I’ve thwarted that rebellion for a little while longer. Truly, I’m
fine with him eventually rebelling, as long as he does it when he’s in his 40s
when I’m too old and tired to care.
