WOB: The Boss Redux

I shook Bruce Springsteen's hand. Typically things of this nature don't interest me. Handshakes, pictures, autographs: if there is no meaningful interaction, I don't see the importance. Joe Paterno is the only person that I've been awed by during a cursory post-game handshake. There is no way that I can write this in a logical way, and this is the biggest platform from which I can brag.

Anyway, a group of ten-fifteen guys were waiting behind the stage in the stands for directions following the show. After the E-Streeters finished the encore and walked out, a seven foot gap was all that separated them from the tunnel to the dressing rooms. That was crazy enough. When The Boss walked out, everyone went crazy and looked around in semi-disbelief. Then a shout came back from below. Bruce had come back out of the tunnel to acknowledge a bunch of jokers there to clean up after him. Luckily a couple guys quickly ran down to shake his hand that allowed me to shake off my stupor and get down there for a put-er-there of my own. I screwed up the settings on my camera, so I don't have photographic evidence.

Also, during clean up on the stage I managed to snag a dropped guitar pick, set lists from the Friday and Sunday shows as well as his phonetic Swedish thanking the Swedes that left them momentarily confused and then in hysterics.


I'm not trying to go on about my Bruce experiences. But my weekend consisted of attending a concert Friday night, dealing with a hangover of awesome {From the concert that ying-yanged with my awesome hangover.} on Saturday, another show on Sunday night and loading out the stage following the Sunday show. I'll try and eliminate all unsolicited references to the Boss by midweek. However, I make no promises.

I mean, he shook my freaking hand...