On the Floor for the Foos: My Lucky Concert Streak Continues

Posted: October 22, 2017 in Humor, Music, Rock Music
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As many of you know I’ve had an incredible streak of luck at rock shows and with rock stars over the course of my lifetime. I’ve run into Todd Rundgren in a mall, Mark Oliver Everett on the street, and David Crosby in a hotel elevator, among others. I also saw Eminem in the Detroit airport once, and were it not for two behemoth bodyguards I’d have had a nice, civil chat with him. I’ve also bumbled my way into being Beck’s bodyguard, and Jeff Lynne once asked me to get him some tarts (I swear I thought he meant pop tarts – true story) backstage at an ELO rock show. At many a concert I’ve simply walked by security to get to the front of the stage, usually by just acting like I belonged there. Hey, you can’t argue with my success rate.

Note: I wrote about all this in a blog titled Lines and How I’ve Avoided Them: A Retrospective. Read it, and keep a pen or pencil handy to take notes. I also wrote about my rock encounters in an award winning retrospective titled Random Rock Encounters, a must-read if one ever existed.

Which brings us to last night.

Although I knew the Foo Fighters were coming to Cincinnati, for whatever reason I didn’t pull the trigger on getting tickets. Then, at about 2:00pm on the day of the show I got online and scored a ticket, albeit behind the stage. Hey, I wasn’t worried, I thought just getting into the arena would be enough. I’d figure the rest out when I got there.

Upon arrival I went down to my seat, and sure enough I was smack dab behind the stage with a backdrop blocking everything in front of me. Seriously, the fact that they sell tickets for those seats is an absolute sham and a rip-off of the highest order.

For most, that is. Not me of course.

As I stood there planning my next course of action, an usher walked up to me and asked if I needed help. It was then I just shrugged my shoulders, pointed to the humongous backdrop in front of me and asked, “I can’t see a thing from here. Is there anything you can do for me?”

Turns out there was. She looked around nervously, reached inside her jacket, pulled out a wristband, and put it around my wrist. Incredulous but not really, I asked her where it would get me.

Her response? She pointed down to the floor in front of the stage.

Boom. Floor pass baby. Seriously, within 30-seconds of showing her my ticket I’d gone from the worst seat in the house to, arguably, the best.

All I could do was give her a hug, tell her “Bless your heart” and head on down to be with my people in front of the stage, where I most certainly belonged.

The next 4-hours were rock and roll bliss, from the opening act The Struts to the freakin’ Foo Fighters, who gave one of the top five concert performances these eyes have seen and these ears have heard. Dave Grohl? National Treasure, man.

And I got to see it all up close.

But how did I get there? I really have no damn idea.

Gimme a holler.

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