Sometime during the two week festival known as Coachella, where 125,000 people gather five miles from my home and throw a party complete with multiple concerts, fashions, foods, camping and celebrities, a rumor was leaked (I suspect by the very entity that feigned upset. . . Goldenvoice) that another mega concert would be held in the fall with true rock icons on a playbill not to be believed.
Bob Dylan, The Rolling Stones, Neil Young, Roger Waters, Paul McCartney and The Who. . .all in a one square mile area over two weekends in October? Who wouldn't want to do that? I mean that is the pinnacle of music as we know it and it's happening a bike ride from my house.
Email started flying between people. Do you want to go? Should we get a block of passes? One day? Three Day? VIP or General Admission? The questions, the plans. Just think about it for a minute. In one 48 hour period you could conceivably see six epic shows and still go home and sleep in your own comfortable bed. I even have out of state friends asking if they can stay here when they go to the show. This is a really big deal. It's a no-brainer to me and so I email back. . . I'm in.
Notice I say "I' and not "We". I bring it up to Moondoggy, excited, "everybody's going" I tell him. "Not me," he says and I am slightly sad but still determined. I make plans to man computers with a friend to try and get our passes (VIP is the way to go) when tickets go on sale at 10 a.m. Monday. Everything is set.
Sleeping soundly through the night, I am suddenly awakened with a jarring thought. This pass will cost anywhere between $1000 and $1600 (GA is $399). . .that's a lot of money. It's a cruise or a new computer (which I am in need of right now.) But it's THE STONES, THE WHO, I mean this will never happen again. I go back to sleep.
Bam! Awake again. What if something comes up and we can't go? It's not like they sell concert insurance like they do trip insurance which means there is no guarantee that I could sell my pass. Hmmm. But, what are the odds, really. I go back to sleep.
I wake up and Moondoggy is on the computer. . . on the website and he's looking at ticket options. "Come here," he says pointing to the schematic of the seating. "Are you wanting passes to the Standing Pit?" Standing? For a whole concert? With a bunch of other standing people? Um. . no. "These seats," he says pointing to the seats in front of the stage, "are down here behind the Standing Pit, And these," he points to the Grand Stands (and priciest of the options) don't even face the stage so you will have to stand and turn to see. Which are you hoping to buy?" I start seeing the dollars in terms of comfort versus Mick Jagger singing "Satisfaction". Mick Jagger. . . not the younger Mick Jagger who preened and pranced to the song originally but the now Great-Grandfather Mick Jagger. He can still do it but. . . and what about Keith Richards? I mean is he really still even breathing?
And then I recall the last concert I went to - Aerosmith, a few years ago. What I really wanted during the entire show was ear plugs. And I once camped out to buy Dylan tickets which turned out to be the biggest disappointment ever. . .do I want to replay that to the tune of a grand? And I've seen Pink Floyd and now the dollars flying around my brain are marching back into my subconscious wallet. I could buy the entire works of each of these groups for less than the cost of this epic weekend five miles down the road and still have money left, my hearing intact and a peaceful uncrowded place to enjoy the music. Besides what if one of these guys breaks a hip?
And with that, I emailed my friend, "I'm out."
Think I'll be driving Uber those weekends instead.