The Dylan Concert...

I saw a legend last night. In addition to the amazing music, I loved seeing all of the different types of people. There were young kids, high school and college students, parents, senior citizens…there were hippies, businesspeople, punk rockers, grungy people. So many different people inspired and affected by one man, one musician. It’s incredible. My dad and I had early admission tickets so we got to go in before the general public and scurried our way to the front of the stage. The front of the stage wasn’t crowded right away but throughout the three opening acts more and more people began to pour in. First with Alana James, then Junior Brown, then Jimmy Vaughn and finally the man himself. I have never smelled so many different smells in the same vicinity before…cigarette smoke, cigar smoke, marijuana smoke, beer, B.O., bad breath, mothballs, greasy food…somehow all blended together…it was amazing. By the time Dylan got on stage the air was filled with smoke and everyone’s bodies were beginning to mold together…strangers seemingly became the best of friends. It’s so funny how when you are standing next to someone for six hours at a concert while screaming and pumping your fists together you feel like you know them so much better by the time it’s over…even if you didn’t say one word to each other. There is even some feelings of sorrow when it’s time to part. It’s like some subconscious bond you’ve created or something. Some other memories I have from the concert are as follows: people pushing there way to the front, blankets being stepped on, drinks being spilled, strangers talking to one another, middle-aged woman dancing and flailing their arms to and fro, young lovers making out, old couples making out, 65 year old women with gray hair hanging down to the back of their thighs who never quite grew out of their hippie stage and…tie-dye. Do you know what’s even better than tie-dye…a tie-dye shirt with Bob Dylan’s face on it…doesn’t get much better than that. Out of all those things and all of those memories do you know what my favorite part of the whole concert was? It was when my dad left for about a half hour and later came back with a half cup of coffee and half of his chocolate cookie he had saved for me after stopping by the concession stand. Love is what always seems to be remembered most and although I love Bob Dylan...I'm pretty sure my dad loves me more. And knowing that is better than seeing Bob Dylan in concert.