My Mom took me to my first concert. It was February 2, 1978, I was 9 years old, and the band was KISS. I was a huge KISS fan from a very early age, and my parents were... not. Maybe it was the pyro, maybe it was Gene Simmons spitting blood, or maybe it was just that 4 men were on stage wearing makeup. Any way you looked at it, it was not going to be a fun time for either of my parents that took me. But tickets to the show were all I wanted for Christmas, and Mom and Dad were able to hook me up with 6th row center.
. The night of the concert was freezing. Providence, Rhode Island in February is miserable to begin with, and that year was probably the worst February in history. My Dad couldn't take me to the show for some reason, so the duty was left to Mom. We bundled up, took the 40 minute drive to the Providence Civic Center, and waited in the freezing cold with hundreds of other fans, waiting for the doors to open. When they finally did open, there was a stampede of folks trying to get in from the cold. I was separated from my Mom, and got pushed in side, just before they slammed the doors shut , in a highly stupid attempt to control the crowd. The first person to get shut outside... my Mom. I was safe inside, but she was crying and pleading with the security staff to let her in, because I was alone and only 9. after a couple of minutes, they relented, and opened the doors again.
We made our way inside the arena, and found our seats, along with everyone else. Neither of us knew that once the concert started, the seats would become something for everyone to stand on. Some people in our row were passing a funny looking cigarette around, and I some smart-ass handed it to me. I didn't know what to do with it, and I think Mom was just too shocked to say anything, but I just passed it on to the next guy.
The lights came down the speakers came up and a thunderous voice yelled "You wanted the best, you got the best, the hottest band in the world, KISS!". Everyone jumped up on their chairs, and I never saw the stage again. Turns out 6th row center is a bad place for a 9 year old. Too short to see anything, too fat to sit on Mom's shoulders, I tried to wait it out, and see if people would calm down and get off the chairs so that I could see some of the damn show. But, alas, it was not meant to be. About 30 minutes into the concert, we headed out of the row, and saw the rest of the show from the back of the arena. I loved every minute of it, so much that KISS was also the second concert I went to, the following year (with my Dad, and we had balcony seats). But it was the effort, the sacrifices that my Mom made that turned that show into a real bonding experience for me and Mom.
My Mom passed away earlier this month, and I miss her. But when I get sad from her passing, I just think back to some of the great experiences I had with her. Especially my first concert, and how cool I felt being there when I was 9. I love you, Mom!
R,I,D.E safe,
Jeff
Bars4Bikers.com
