Bruce, Baby, Bruce

“Do you even know any Bruce Springsteen songs?” she asked me.

“Well, sure, I mean, I’m sure I’d recognize them. You know, once they’re played. Like Little Pink Houses. I’m sure I’d recognize that one.”

She laughed. “Wrong singer. That’s John Cougar Mellencamp. Try again.”

I thought for a moment. “The one about dancing. If I had a chance, I’d ask the world to dance, dancing with myself, when…”

“Nope. That would be Billy Idol. Getting closer, though. Springsteen does sing Dancing In the Dark.”

“Well, even though I’m obviously not the biggest Springsteen fan, I’m looking forward to the concert.”

The concert was at Pac Bell Park, our local baseball stadium, situated right on the bay. Before going to the concert, we visited one of the multitudes of sailboats docked right outside the stadium. I sipped margaritas from plastic stemware and watched the sun slowly setting in the sky. The conversation around me was all Bruce, all the time.

And the concert was awesome. Springsteen is a spirited performer. He engages the crowd. He’s enthusiastic. He has fun. Even though I didn’t recognize a single song until the third encore, I’m still glad I went.

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