|I lurrrrved him.|
When it was announced that he was coming to our city for a concert on May 1, 1975, I HAD. TO. GO.
Enter my mom's friend, Betty. She and my mom had been close friends since I was maybe 3 when Betty and her family lived across the street from us. Betty was a John Denver fan and all around good sport, and she offered to accompany me, along with her daughter Teresa, to the concert. SOMEBODY PINCH ME!
I treated that ticket as if it were made of glass. I was terrified that someone would break into the house and steal it, so I kept it in a tiny little drawer in a shelf in the dining room and checked on it daily (I'm happy to report it never budged).
When I thought I could not possibly wait any longer, the concert date finally arrived. Betty and Teresa and I saw his tour bus in the parking lot when we arrived at the arena. Once inside, I bought a t-shirt and a program. My heart beat like a rabbit's, and I was nearly bursting with excitement.
He didn't pick me out of the crowd and whisk me away to be with him forever (dammit), but other than that, the concert was everything I could have hoped for.
It was my first concert, and the best night of my (14 year old) life.
And my second concert, a year and a half later?
But that's a story for another day.
Mama Kat's Writer's Workshop writing prompt #2: the first concert you ever attended