Tramps Like Us

This was going to be a post designed to make all of you jealous, jealous, jealous. It was going to be a nauseating brag about how Mrs. Wife and I got to abandon our children at their grandparent’s house for the night and go to the big Bruce Springsteen show at Giants Stadium. Mrs. Wife is related to him in a very roundabout fashion and we are always comped tickets and get to sit with the family in the best seats in the house. I married up!

We met friends about three hours beforehand and tailgaited in the parking lot. M, a manly son-of-a-bitch if ever there was one, cooked pulled pork sandwiches on a little camping stove that he uses when he’s out in the wilderness being manly. He brought some nice scotch, as well. It was a beautiful summer evening and there was liquor and weed and good feelings everywhere. Tra-la-la!

We picked up our tickets at the will-call window, walked down to our seats to marvel at their location and then Mrs. Wife’s cell phone rang. It was a call from home. 2-Year Old Daughter (this being her birthday, by the way) shoved a small bead deep into her ear canal and needed to go to the emergency room. 6-Year Old Daughter was dropped off at a neighbor’s house. Our neighbor, a lifesaver if ever there was one, is very, very pregnant, so we couldn’t say to her, “Thanks for watching our kid! See you when the concert ends at 1:00 in the morning!” We turned on our heels, got into our car and drove home, not having heard one bar chord. I understand he opened with Tenth Avenue Freezout.

Now who’s jealous? Tramps like us, baby we were born to have our evenings wrecked by our kids.

One thought on “Tramps Like Us

  1. Gosh, if I were you, I would have been grateful for an excuse to leave. Bruce Springsteen? Really?*shrugs shoulders* must be an age thing. And the fact I wasn’t born in the USA (see what I did there?)

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