Nea Fane – Un Biet Român Pripășit în America / A Hapless Romanian Stuck in The US

As I was saying a couple of posts ago, I had to go see the Rolling Stones. We got a pair of tickets for free, and since the guys are in their 80s, I was like, “Sure, let’s go!”

The gig was epic, Mick Jagger, Keith Richards, and Ronnie Wood totally rocked it as usual. Their energy levels are off the charts. I pat myself on the back if I can put on my socks without getting out of breath, but these guys sang and danced for two hours without even breaking a sweat.

The stadium (Cardinals stadium, that is) was bursting at the seams, and by the time we arrived at 7:30 for a show promised to start at 8, we knew the classic “fashionably late” rule would apply. After all, it took us fifty minutes to get there, another forty to find parking, and a whopping one hour and three quarters until the Stones actually graced us with their presence. To add to the fun, the opening act was a Mexican maestro and his band, who regaled us for a solid 50 minutes.

The Rolling Stones kicked off their epic performance at 9:16 pm, and it went on for a solid two hours. For a chap residing an hour away, and with a 5 am wake-up call, that was quite the conundrum, to put it mildly! But this being once in a lifetime opportunity, we made the most out of it.

When the show kicked off, the towering figure in front of me suddenly rose and began to bust a move (just like the rest of us; well, almost – I don’t dance, but I stood up for a bit). That’s when things got a tad dicey for me: I had a solid wall of humanity obstructing my view, with only 5% visibility, and a lady behind me busting out some supposedly super flexible but rather wobbly dance moves, nearly toppling onto my head twice. I burst into such raucous laughter that the giant glanced my way, took pity on me, and promptly sat back down. The dancing woman toned it down a bit, and only managed to clock me in the back once more for the entire show.

Sometime mid-show they opened the roof, for the angels to hear the music.

Without those gigantic screens, the concert goers would have witnessed a couple of ants creating a symphony of beautiful noises. Perhaps some of them did just that, decades ago. In fact, there were individuals who attended all three Rolling Stones concerts in Phoenix over the years, and they proudly wore their t-shirts as proof.

My super duper Apple Watch was nagging me every fifteen minutes, lecturing me about the noise level like a concerned parent. And as if that wasn’t enough, it also kept reminding me that it was time for bed. I swear, I had more conversations with my watch than with my wife! The funny thing is, the watch didn’t talk back… or did she? (I’ve come to the conclusion that the watch is definitely a “she”).

I was seriously blown away by the bunch of cameras and how everything was so smoothly synced up with the tunes and the way the band members were moving around on stage.

So, when the moon is up, all I can tell my nephew is: “Thank you for those tickets! I know they weren’t for us.” And to the Rolling Stones I say, “Thank you for the music!”

Let the pros tell you how it was, in today’s newspaper.