Running On Empty at My First Concert
TIG’s November writing prompt lets us relive our most awkward teen moments.
I spent much of my free time in 8th, 9th, and 10th grade listening to my cassette tape music collection with my boom box or headphones plugged into a portable player. I consumed to a lot of Bruce Springsteen and Rush, but more than anything I listened to Jackson Browne. His lyrics were smart and the melodies creative. This was the soundtrack to my early teens.
I recently listened to his first five albums all the way through for the first time in decades and they hold up. Hearing the lyrics, as I look back at my life, hit pretty hard. In my youth, I vowed to avoid his themes of life’s compromises and pain but realize now they are universal.
His songs have been covered by younger artists in recent years and his video for “My Cleveland Heart” released in 2021 features Phoebe Bridgers literally eating his freshly removed heart.
In 1980 when I heard he was coming to Ann Arbor (a few miles from my hometown of Saline), I knew I had to be there. My junior year of high school would start by the show’s date of September 5, but it was a Friday night, and I was sure I could convince my parents to let me go.
The only place I knew that sold tickets was the Hudson’s department store in Ann Arbor’s Briarwood Mall. I had a driver’s license and a little cash from selling muskmelons at the Saline farmer’s market. I grew melons in my backyard in my youth. (I clearly remember August 16, 1977, hoeing my melon field in the hot sun and listening to the radio’s report that Elvis had died). I arrived 30 minutes before tickets went on sale, stood in line at the store’s music section, paid cash, and walked out with two tickets.
I had a part-time job in the kitchen at Saline’s “old folk’s home.” My grandmother lived there at the time, so I could occasionally stop in to say hi. My job was primarily to wash pots and pans and mop the floors. One of the chefs was my age and from a neighboring high school. She was beautiful even with a hairnet. She most certainly didn’t like me, but wouldn’t she want to go to the most important rock show of the year?
After about a week of failed attempts, I worked up the nerve to ask her to go with me.
She looked me in the eyes and said she’d love to. I about died. But as the show grew closer, I lost my nerve and never finalized plans with her. She was too pretty and even though I got a “yes” I couldn’t face talking with her again.
I went to the show alone. My seat was high and far away at Crisler Arena. That didn’t matter. My hero was singing my favorite songs and I was there to see it. I was sure that nobody else in the crowd understood the songs like I did. I only looked down at the empty seat next to me a couple of times and tried really hard not to feel lonely.
After the show, I wandered around to where the band’s busses were parked behind the arena and waited for something to happen, surrounded by about a dozen other fans. After an hour, Jackson Browne came out of the arena with his entourage and walked towards the bus. Just before he stepped on board I yelled out “I love you!” He paused, turned, and looked me in the eyes for a few seconds, then silently climbed onto the bus.
Decades and more than 1,100 shows later, I still almost always go to concerts with an extra ticket in my pocket or phone just in case. The difference is that these days I may be alone at the rock show, but I’m not lonely.
Tell us about your first concert!
This story was part of the Three Imaginary Girls November writing prompt, First Concert. If you’d like to share a story about your first show-going experience, please do!
