Trysting With The Boss...

Hmmm...what do you know...this will be the second week in a row in which I will proudly ramble on with a Jersey-centric post...but I guess you can take the girl out....

After the big Super Bowl halftime show, featuring the brightest shining mega star of the Garden State (well, next to Jill Biden, of course....), Bruce Springsteen, I remembered that I forgot to tell you all about my brush with Springsteen greatness. I know, I know...everyone who has ever even crossed a bridge and traveled down the Turnpike has a story...you know, they hung out with Bruce at the Stone Pony...bought drinks for the E Street Band at some Jersey Shore dive where they performed an unannounced set...send their kids to the same elite day school at which The Boss' own brood is schooled...they are the inspiration for "Rosalita"...Bruce's road manager fathered their baby...you know, run of the mill stuff....But my story isn't quite so romantic or dramatic....but it is true and, well, kind of cool.

Let me just back track and explain that on Super Bowl night, my husband and his buddies, six of my closest friends' husbands (missing was Suse's Scott, who as a son and super fan of Pittsburgh, could not bear to watch the game with any distractions...) congregated in our downstairs entertainment paradise in front of that giant television. I spent the day in the kitchen perfecting the delicious array of man-tastic, beefy, juicy football-appropriate treats, each one of them from scratch....I made sticky honey soy chicken wings (my boyfriend Tyler Florence's recipe, by the way...), maple-glazed barbecue spare ribs, little sliders with my secret chipotle sauce, corn pudding (a sad attempt on my part to work in a "vegetable"...shockingly, this dish was the hit of the night...) and gooey, fudgey brownies....not to mention vats of my yummy-delicious fresh guacamole and that cheesy sausagey dippy thing that everyone stands over like a bunch of cows at a trough whenever I crack it out...that recipe courtesy of Suse's sister, my girl, Lisa H. At any rate...I know I have told you all countless times that I love to cook...even more than I love to fondue. So this exercise in cookery was a complete joy to me...and the best kind of party in my eyes, I got all the fun of cooking and taking the accolades while not really having the pressure of socializing...those guys didn't want me hanging with them, and I was perfectly happy to knock around with my boos upstairs anyway...we watched Hannah Montana or some other crap Disney Channel marathon.

But....I told Rob to call me when it was halftime, so as a proud Garden Stater, I could cheer on the one act that night that I had any interest in: Bruce. Needless to say, when the time came, no one called my name and it was by sheer luck that I passed the doorway and heard music coming up the stairs....and I yelled "Rob is it half time?" and he's says, kind of sheepishly, "Uh, yeah, you want me to rewind the TiVo?" Ugh, whatever....I ran down and took the empty seat next to Freddy...and almost immediately proceeded to watch Bruce do a cr*tch dive into the camera...quite a welcome...I mean he's cute and all, but I am not sure I needed to see that. At any rate...so, I watched the performance and the guys and I all talked Bruce and how awesome he is and how someone's sister's best friend had a friend in his entourage and she told her the Super Bowl set list...you know, all that Jersey/Bruce/Six Degrees of Separation....and I told my story...and I am pretty sure only Freddy listened (because he is the nice one....), and that is when I realized that I always forget to tell this story....so here goes:

It was September of 1992 and I was a brandy-new Stonehill graduate...that lazy, jobless summer by Mom and Dad's pool had come to a close...my tan was rocking and my long hair was all streaky blond....So my mom was able to score two tickets to the Bruce Springsteen World Tour 1992 -1993...which, I recently learned is now known as: The Other Band Tour...yeah, not Bruce's best moment...anyway, the show was at the then Brendan Byrne Arena. My big sister, Cath, is a diehard Bruce fan...and in a gracious act I have yet to see her duplicate, even for her beloved nephews, she surrendered her claim on the ticket so I, her baby sis, could go see Bruce for the first time. My date was our middle sister, Trish, who happened to be seven months pregnant with her second child, my niece who is now 16 and just got her learner's permit...so even though my mental age is 19, I do have a niece that is pushing adulthood...But I digress...So, Trish was never a big partier or anything, and she was all preggers, so we didn't partake of any tailgating and entered the arena upon arrival, probably a good 45 minutes before the show was set to begin. I remember fully that I wore faded cut off jean shorts, a fitted pink and blue striped Ralph Lauren top and white bucks without socks...such post-collegiate cuteness... So anyway, we had great seats, in section 110, only a few rows up, just to the right of the stage...we took our seats in the barely filled in arena and began to settle in.....

Then, this dude with an official looking lariat around his next and a laminated ID tag dangling from it hopped the divider between section 110 and the floor, making his way directly for us. I was thinking he must know my sister or something when he reached us and got right to the point:

"Would you girls be willing to switch your seats for seats on the flloor next to the stage?"

Dumbfounded, we just kind of gaped at him....But he was impatient...

"Well?" he said...

"What's the catch?"

Again, impatient, he says: "Bruce hates it when they seat corporate guests and industry people next to the stage because he likes to have fans up front, so we are asking people with good seats to switch. Are you in?"

Trish and I look at each other and shrug -- "What the hell...."

We hand the dude our tickets and he hands us our new ones, leading us down the same path he took to reach us, my sister 7 months pregnant, jumping the divider. We took our seats in the front row, on Bruce's lefthand side. There were a slew of dorky girls already seated there, totally wigging out...we chatted and learned they too were invited to switch seats for these...Their dork leader was this bespectacled redhead who kept saying: "I hope he plays 'Dancing In the Dark'!"....to the eyerolls of my sister and I. Poor Cath, was all I could think...she is going to be so pissed she gave me her ticket....

So the show began...and what can I say, of course it was amazing...even though it was The Other Band Tour and there were these three black background singers and a bunch of nameless studio musicians backing him...Whatever, it was still so unbelievable to see all that up close action...Bruce talking to his band members, telling them what song was next...throwing changes at them, the three background singers just shaking their heads and going along with it. So...he sang his classics and then launched into a set filled with songs from his then "new" album....and that is when it happened.....

Bruce is walking the perimeter of the stage, he's got these foam car mirror dice in his hands and he is singing one of the new album gems "Roll of the Dice"....yeah, that one was really memorable, right? Well, it is burned on my brain because as my man approached our edge of the stage he slowed down...the dorks and their leader squealed like a bunch of pigs to slaughter...and that is when his eyes locked on mine and...I sh*t you not...he gestured towards me with his chin and reached out his hand and grabbed mine, pulling me closer to the stage as he sang...eyes locked (maybe Rocco learned that move from Bruce, now that I think about it...)...and all the dorks and my sister were screaming: "Oh my g*d! Oh my g*d!" and I hear Trish going: "Suz...he's singing to you!" And what did I do, Bruce's hand in mine, eyes locked? I mouthed the words "I love you" and he smiled and mouthed back "Thank you"...so, thinking I needed to drive the point home, I said it out loud...and he smiled again, still singing...so dumba** over here still doesn't shut up and I say it again, this time, loudly...I go: "Bruce, I said I love you!"....and he laughed out loud and shook his head, missing a whole line of words right in the middle of the song...then he winked, squeezed my hand, waved goodbye. And I stood there...stunned.

Well, of course my sister and all the dorks and their redheaded, bespectacled leader squealed and fawned all over me, telling me how lucky I was and all that...and it was kind of fun and cool, but honestly, all I could think was, well, of course he chose to sing to me...the one time in my life I stood out as the most appealing choice, all of 22 with my tan and cut-off jean shorts and streaky blond hair in a sea of dorks and cute but unavailable pregnant women. Well, who cares why I became the de facto Courteney Cox of New Jersey -- I mean, take it where you can get it, right? And it was Bruce Springsteen...The Boss...now, I admit it, at that point in my life, if some guy who was his twin in the leather vest and worn jeans and scruffy three-days-in beard growth approached me at a bar, I would give him the cold shoulder or blantantly sneer...but Bruce was a mega star...a legend. Not only was he Jersey royalty and the inspiration to countless pretenders (that damn Jon Bon-effing-Jovi....just wait, until you hear the story I have aboout that meanspirited glory hog...)...Bruce was a national treasure...and he sang to me, and I told him I loved him...three times.

The next day, I called my doofy then soon-to-be-ex-college-boyfriend up in Boston and every one of my college friends and retold the story....and you will be shocked by the reaction....so many of them couldn't care less (those Bostonians just don't get Bruce, man...well, except maybe for TL...). I had one friend actually say: "Yeah, I don't really like Bruce Springsteen..." What??? Who cares if you like him, it is still a cool story, g*ddammit! My other friend refused to believe my story...and I was all like: "I swear, it's true...ask my sister." And even my Jersey posse was you know, only marginally impressed...It was bizarre...and so, I just kind of let the tingly excitement fade away, and the memory was fun to look back on...a little silly giggle with my sisters...even Cathleen, who eventually got over surrendering her ticket to me, who in turn had this once-in-a-lifetime moment as a result....I told the story here and there over the years, and usually I receive polite awe and comments like "Wow, how cool...." And then....

Flash forward...Summer, 2001: I was pregnant with Tim, my middle child...my sister, Trish, and I sitting at my kitchen table, little 17 month old Ellie playing with my now 8 1/2 year old niece, Andie...the one who was there with us that night for our moment with Bruce. My mom shows up and joins us for a chat, and out of nowhere says to us: "What year was it that you two went to see Bruce Springsteen and got your seats switched?" And we think for a minute or two and confirm, yes, that was 1992, because I had just graduated. And without a word, Mom hops up and runs out of the house...and Trish and I are perplexed, but we just sort of shrug...A minute later Mom returns and has a section of The New York Times in her hand. She drops it on the table in front of us and says: "Is that you two?"

So we look at the photo to which she is referring....it is Bruce Springsteen, in concert, singing onstage....the caption identifying the shot as: "Bruce Springsteen in concert, Brendan Byrne Arena, East Rutherford, NJ, September 1992." And in the background of the shot, off to the left of the stage very faintly you see the crowd in the seats...and there we are!!!! My sister more visible and me in the shadows....and right in the center, fully hogging all the light is that bespectacled redhead, leader of dorks, clapping and smiling away...I guess Bruce must have been singing "Dancing In The Dark" or something because she looked giddy....We almost died...how cool that this random moment was caught on film...we had no idea. And I couldn't help thinking: See!..I wasn't making it up...here is proof, here in the Grey Lady, The New York Effing Times has my picture right there, an arm's length from Bruce Springsteen....I told you!

So a few weeks later, just before the end of the summer, before Tim was born and before the world changed forever, my mom showed up at my door and handed me an 8.5 x 11 manila envelope and inside it was a glossy black and white photo...that same shot from The New York Times, Trish and I visible in the background....she had ordered two copies of the shot from the newspaper archives -- one for me and one for Trish. So cool. You know, so it is years later now...I think my copy is still in the envelope, upstairs with all the photos of me with the Duchess of York...but Trish framed hers and placed it right on the shelf in her family room, just beneath her kids' school pictures....well, Bruce is practically a family member, right? Either way....it is fun for me to see whenever I do a little stopover...you know, how many of us can say that our brush with Springsteen greatness lives forever on film? Well, except of course for that lucky Super Bowl cameraman, recipient of that fierce cr*tch shot last weekend....I bet his friends are totally unimpressed....

Photo 1: Jersey cool quotient, courtesy of The Boss...

Photo 2: You know some old relic down in The Amboys is telling his drinking buddies about the time he took this shot at the Stone Pony and then hit a diner on Route 35 with Clarence Clemmons...

Photo 3: Not my sticky honey soy ribs...mine were much prettier...

Photo 4: This is however, an actual shot of my yummy-delicious guacamole in the making...

Photo 5: Bruce, post-cr*tch dive at the Super Bowl...he may actually be limping there, not sure...

Photo 6: Me at Stonehill graduation, May 17, 1992....all innocent and idealistic...mere months out from my moment with Springsteen...

Photo 7: With each generation, the species improves...my gorgeous niece, 16 years out from that first Springsteen show in utero...

Photo 8: One of these can get you anywhere in life....

Photo 9: There she is, Andrea Zuckerman...that bespectacled redhead and queen of dorks...I told you it was 1992...

Photo 10: The Other Band and their leader...apparently a brief moment of insanity led to that partnership...or maybe a little too much herb...

Photo 11: Well, Courteney Cox is not quite as cute as I was, but it is a generally accurate depiction of my moment with Bruce...

Photo 12: At Guido Murphy's, Senior week, 1992...with some blase, Bruce-hating Bostonians...Murph and Heidi...

Photo 13: The actual shot...redheaded bespectacled dork leader to the right and Trish and I to the left...squint hard to see Trish the the right of that weird bearded guy...