When in doubt, take a right on E Street

April 1st, 2012.

I will confess here and now that I maybe misused the power of prayer today. I did not pray for world peace or for healing sick people or to be a better person. I prayed someone would magically offer me a ticket to tonight's Springsteen show at the Verizon Center that I'd been unceremoniously shut out of in the initial on sale many weeks before.

Then, when that prayer was answered at around 1pm this afternoon, (nothing like cutting it fine), I prayed for traveling mercies; no traffic snafus, no speeding tickets, no getting lost in the mess of downtown DC. And please let me make it there in time to get my general admission wristband because if I don't get that then I can't be in the Pit Lottery and if I'm not in the Pit Lottery then it's all been a stinking great waste of time.

Oh, and God, while you're busy answering all of THOSE prayers, could you please see your way clear to making sure my number actually gets drawn in the Pit Lottery? Yes, I know there are 22,000 other souls who may be hoping for the same thing tonight and I know they're only choosing 300, but God, this is ME. Remember, how you made me reeaally short? It's best for everyone if it works out this way.

No, you can't see his face but you can see the light.
That's why, when you are this close, you get Bruce Burn.

So I got my ticket, got there on time, no traffic, no speeding fine. Didn't get lost. Got my wristband. Had my number drawn in the lottery. Got My Elbows on the Stage. This is the important part, people. You can still be in the Pit and have a miserable time because when you're height challenged like me, there's always a chance some 450 lb., 6'5" linebacker and his buddies will be standing right in front of you swilling beer all night long and screaming out for Glory Days. Hey, it's happened a time or two.

I don't know. I've put in the miles, the years, the cash. I am no casual fan. This man is, after all, directly responsible for my marriage and only slightly less directly responsible for the birth of my child. And do I need to invoke that whole continental relocation thing again? So yes, I feel entitled, in some fashion, to prop up the stage whenever the opportunity presents. And, let's face it, someone has to be close enough to inspect the tailoring on the seams of the custom made jeans and verify that the boots are indeed Italian. It may as well be me. Because I sure as heck can't remember anything else after spending 3 hours at his feet. Setlist? There was a setlist?

So, for an awesome show from the best vantage point in the arena, a wonderful night with lovely friends and for getting me home again in one piece in the pouring rain through DC when my GPS failed me (when in doubt, take a right on E Street), I thank the Lord. For all the answered prayers, both big and small and for truly blessing me in so many ways, I thank the Lord. (And I also thank my gorgeous husband for supporting and enabling my habit with such grace and good humor. Even if he doesn't understand why I never remember the setlist).

Bruce and Patti during 'Easy Money'. You can't see her really but she's all kinds of beautiful. 

Taking photos of Bruce with my iPhone from 2 feet away is not my forte. But this one's ok.