A couple of months back, I was killing time on the internet, and I saw something that caught my eye: "Springsteen to Tour with New Album". For the record, I love Springsteen. Have for years. I've seen him several times, and if I get the opportunity to see him live, I take it.

I called the Future Mrs. Wonderhorse. Ever since I moved out to be with her, we have made it a yearly ritual to try to see one big-ticket concert per year. A couple of years ago it was the Police, last year REM. This would be perfect.

"Hey," I said, reaching her at work. "Springsteen is coming. I want to see him".

"Sure," she replied. "When is he here?"

"April 10th."

There was a pause as I hear her checking her calendar. "Uh-oh. I have a show on the 10th, so I can't go."

My turn to pause. There was one of two ways this could have gone. Number one would be to say, "Oh well, that's too bad. Maybe we can catch him next time."

I chose number two.

"Springsteen is coming. I want to see him."

Luckily, the Future Mrs. Wonderhorse is a kind and loving soul and didn't hold it against me. She knows I'm a big fan, and I'm not one to treat myself to something like this on a regular basis. She said I should find someone else to go with and have a good time. And therein lie the problem. 

I've lived in Colorado for two years, and I don't have any close friends out here.

As I said, I moved to be with her, and you would think as a guy nearing 40, making new friends would be old hat. Sadly, that just isn't the case. Don't get me wrong, I have made friends since I've been out here, but not the tight bonds like I had back in Chicago. That's very understandable since most of my closest friends there were people I had known since college; people I had spent years and years with. So while I do actually have friends here, it's not quite the same. There's not that same history and we haven't had the time to develop our own shorthand yet. I had no idea if any of the new friends even liked Bruce. I asked one guy about going, and he said he would like to, but since tickets were somewhat pricey and he had an 18-month old kid, he thought he should take a pass, which I completely understood. Soon, the day the tickets were going on sale arrived, and I still had no one to go with. I logged on to the Ticketmaster website (don't get me started on those fucking criminals), and found the site for Springsteen in Denver. The box that read "Number of Tickets" taunted me in bold type. Fuck it, I thought. 

One, please.

Don't get me wrong - I love doing things by myself. I probably see the majority of films by myself, I've seen plays by myself, have even gone to a few weddings by myself. I do a lot of things solo, if for no other reason that our schedules don't always mesh up, so it doesn't bother me in the least to be a party of one. But a concert is somewhat of a different beast. Concerts are, by nature, a social animal. As someone who is fairly shy by nature (I know, I know. The guy with all the dick jokes is uncomfortable around people? Trust me, it's much easier when you can hide behind a laughing horse), this was going to be tough.  

I drove to the Pepsi center, Bruce blaring from the speakers. Found parking right away, and made my way to the arena. Now, in my head, I'm always about 21 years old, regardless of what I look like and however a 39-year-old guy is supposed to behave. I love art and theatre and culture, but a good fart joke will still have me on the floor. Naked boobs in a movie will always get my attention and appreciation. So, I'm standing in line waiting for the doors to open, and I look around. Who are all these middle-aged bald guys, I wonder, not yet grasping the ironic reality.

Doors open and I made my way in. I hadn't eaten all day, so I thought a $6 brat was about as good as I would do, but of course, I had to stop for a t-shirt for the Future Mrs. Wonderhorse. Finally, I grab a dog and a beer, and decide to eat out in the lobby and not take it all to my seat. I find an empty cocktail table and dig in. Soon, a guy and his wife come up and ask if they can share the table. "Of course," I say, and make room. Soon we're chatting and discover that he is from the same place in Colorado that I'm in. Small world. I finish up and head to my seat.

I find my aisle seat and am soon joined by my row-mates, a group of four who all came together. The woman sitting next to me turns and says, "Are you here alone?"

Oh shit, I think. 

"Yeah," I said. "My fiance couldn't come, and I didn't want to miss it, so I came by myself."

"That's cool," she said. "You can be part of my group." She then introduced me to everyone in her party, which was pretty damned nice of her. She asked if I had ever seen the band before, and I replied I had. She was a Springsteen virgin, had never seen him live, and I told her she was in for a treat. He's one of those guys that even if you don't necessarily care for his music, everyone should see live once. We chatted a little more, and it became clear that the show was about to start.

The lights began to dim, and a roar rose out of the crowd. Through the darkness, you could see the band start to take their places onstage. I looked around me, and saw thousands of people all screaming, clapping, and yelling their admiration, just like I was. I smiled as Bruce and company tore into "Badlands" and remembered: 

No one is alone on E Street.