The tickets went on sale at 10, but I signed in to Ticketmaster at 8, just to be sure. The Eagles are coming for a concert this summer, and the thought of it had me all nervous and jumpy as I waited for the starting bell.
The last concert I saw was a boy band, and I didn’t so much see the concert as chaperone it for my daughter and her cousins. Remembering that night now, I realize there were probably not more than a handful of young fans there who could name an Eagles song – much less name a member of the band.
“Does the name Don Henley mean anything to you people?” I asked my college media management class last night. Except for the two non-traditional (aka “mature”) students in the front row, there were shrugs and blank stares. We were talking about TV news ethics, and how the trend in coverage is toward crappy celebrity behavior and mistreated dogs.
“Get the widow on the set!” I sang, badly, and there were more blank stares. And so I cued up Henley’s video for “Dirty Laundry” on YouTube and let it roll. Kick 'em when they’re up, Kick 'em when they’re down, went the lyrics to that driving beat, and I remembered how awesome Henley was. Playing the video may not have been much of a lesson in TV ethics, but it sure was a lesson for me in how quick on the draw I had to be at the ticket site if I wanted to get anywhere close to the stage.
Not to be one of those aging boomer rock-chicks who squeeze into vintage concert T-shirts and sway offbeatedly to the music of tribute bands, but I belong at an Eagles concert. “Hotel California” was on the radio when I was learning to drive; after one especially dramatic break-up, “Desperado” became my personal theme song for a whole week.
Radio stations played Eagles songs so much that they got absorbed into our histories; we forget just how many great songs they had. I was reminded recently, though, when watching the excellent Showtime documentary “The History of the Eagles.” The show brought it all back, and planted the seed that soon put me in front of the computer, fingers poised to buy tickets.
Best Available, the site offered, and I clicked on it. For close to $500, I could buy two seats down front but way off to the side. From there I would see Timothy Schmitt’s long flowing hair from the back and maybe Henley’s rear quarter-panel.
I tried again. Five-hundred bucks would get me down on the floor, far back, and praying that the seats in front of me were not occupied by a) a man who is 6-foot-6, or b) one of the aforementioned boomer swaying chicks. (And I should talk, because I’ll be going to the concert with a man who is 6-6.)
So I checked to see what half the money would get me, and it’s two seats up in peanut heaven. Don Henley would look like a circus flea from there.
I sprang for two seats along the side, with full views, close enough to the stage. I will have to write a lot of words to cover the cost, but I’m pretty sure it will have been worth it. The Eagles are coming, and I’ll be there.
Beth Dolinar can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.