Thursday, July 29, 2010

Mojo, The Final One. (LONG.)

Too Much Ain't Enough

So, I stood through almost the whole concert...  (Cheating, this is from the Tom Petty website, here is the set list...)

Kings Highway

You Don't Know How It Feels

I Won't Back Down

Free Fallin'

Oh Well

Mary Jane's Last Dance

Drivin' Down To Georgia


Jefferson Jericho Blues

First Flash Of Freedom

Running Man's Bible

I Should Have Known It

Good Enough

Learning To Fly

Don't Come Around Here No More



You Wreck Me

Mystic Eyes

Runnin' Down A Dream
I finally had to sit down around "Running Man's Bible", but I had been up and swaying, if not exactly dancing, to that point.  But I was stepped on a couple times by the quart beer drinker young man.  I honestly wasn't counting, but he had at least two big beers, that I saw, and drank the better part of his girlfriend's drink, and I suspect he had more than that, as he was getting more and more unsteady as the evening wore on. 

Let's just say, I adore the piano playing of Benmot Tench.  I sat down for a little bit to watch him play during "Driving Down to Georgia", (didn't make sense, but where he was, I could see him better when I was sitting than when I was standing), and I noticed that the young man had slipped into his seat as well.  Didn't really pay much attention to this, people were standing and sitting as the mood struck them.  Benmot was stunning, as usual, and at the end of his part, I screamed "WOOO! AWESOME, BENMOT!!!"  The young man jumped.  He had been sleeping!  I ask you, what would it take to sleep in a rock concert?  Especially since we were almost directly in front of the speakers, and I am pretty sure that he had no earplugs in. 

An absolutely terrible photo of Benmot (the one with the hat.) 
Sadly, it was the best one I could get.

It seemed like the guys were wound up.  This wound up the crowd, which seemed to energize the guys... 

I still don't know if he would have tripped or not, but I was watching Mike Campbell, and the guitar has a long cord.  He walked forward during one of the songs, then clunk, stopped, looking a bit surprised.  The cord had wrapped around the amp.  He backed up, kicked the cord just a little, to get it to go over the amp, and walked forward again. Clunk.  Stopped again.  I swear, the man had an "oh, brother" expression, rolling his eyes, and he stopped, grabbed the cord with one hand, tossed over the amp, then walked forward to get to the area he was trying to move to.  Never, however, missing a beat, or getting tangled in the cord... 

Mike Campbell (left),
while Tom P. is getting all of us to sing and clap along.

They played "Learning to Fly", and there are two versions.  One I enjoy, it's a nice song, and it's the one generally played on the radio.  There is a different version, and I tear up every time I hear it.  I adore this version. 

They played this version. 

I was cheering and bawling, and cheering some more.  Then had to find my hankie, because I had tear spatter all over my glasses...  Crying and cheering at the same time makes for projectile tears.

They finished and left the stage, and the crowd got a bit restless awaiting the encore.  Finally someone started chanting Pet-ty, Pet-ty, Pet-ty, and it didn't take long before the whole crowd was roaring PET-TY, PET-TY, until the band all ran back on stage.  I can't remember if it was during the main act, or the encore, but Tom Petty started playing maracas, and the crowd went absolutely bananas.  I hate to say it, but I was more annoyed than anything, it was the one time I could have gotten an absolutely clear shot, he was standing dead center in front of where I was, and the camera WOULD NOT WORK.  He was obviously having a great time with the crowd, so I just swore at the camera again, and enjoyed the music.  (No, I don't know why the crowd went bananas, maybe they were just a big bunch of maraca fans?)

One of the nicer pictures I was able to get,
I just couldn't get them all in one photo, but here's a group shot.
At the end, the group came out, linked arms and bowed.  Then I noticed that people were throwing things onto the stage.  It looked like someone threw a towel.  Tom started to turn, and the guys all grabbed him, picked up the towel, Tom then smiled and wrote on it, and tossed it back into the crowd. 


About to Give Out

I got up, and my feet hurt. A lot.  The crowd was headed for the exits, and I finally figured out where I needed to head to get to the handicapped area, which seemed a lot more inviting than when I had entered...  I got to a gate, and waited while some fans had a b.s. session with one of the staff.  I was starting to be in real pain by this time, and wasn't really wanting to stand.  The staff guy finally noticed I was leaning heavily on my cane for about 20 minutes (on cement), and piped up, oh, you want the next exit for the shuttle bus. 


I trod up to the next gate, and looked around at a huge collection of folks with crutches.  I think that most of them were sporting broken legs.  We all started talking, (I somewhat less so than others, as I was about to cry, from standing), and someone said, hey, the concerts over, let's go steal chairs while we are waiting.  Some absolute angel brought me over a chair.  I nearly collapsed.  We all were talking about the first gate, and I said I had been waiting by it, until directed to the correct gate.

"Didn't you see? That's where Tom and the band go in and out!"

That led to discussion of the fact that we all thought he should come out and say hi to us, even leading to one gal yelling over the fence, "HI, TOM, COME OVER HERE, WE LOVE YOU, AND WE ARE HANDICAPPED!"  I told her that might be more likely that he'd want to run the other way, bellowing like that.  She laughed. 

Soon, we started discussing why various people were on crutches, the usual stumbles and falls, but one had JUST come back from getting her leg in a cast.  She'd seen the show the night before, and she had taken a spill in the campground.  She told the people there she was NOT going to miss the second show.  And, she didn't.  She said she knew the Quincy Emergency Room real well...  I don't know if I would have been quite the super trooper she was, let me tell you. 

Somehow, as the time wore on (for some reason, it took forever to get the bus to us), we started talking about how many concerts we'd been to.  I was the rookie, first concert.  One gal had been to 8. 

I don't quite yet KNOW how, but this led to us all singing "Beer Run, B, double E, double R, U, N, Beer run, all we need is a ten and a fiver,  then we need a car and a sober driver..."  (I suspect if Tom and Company had been near the fence, they probably would have run to the bus and told the driver to floor it!) 

The bus finally arrived, and I sat behind the 8 concert gal.  I commented on her hoodie, with Tom's Picture on it.  She beamed, and said, yeah, I have sat up front every concert, and when I threw my coat up there, the guys made Tom sign it, and I got it back, even!

Kinda dark but, that's his signature, right next to the silk screen!
She was on floating on air!

All Mixed Up

The bus took us to the general admission gate, then let us out.  Whereupon, I was promptly lost.  There is about 5 or six gates, and they were locked.  A security guard walked by, I asked him which was the gate out, he pointed at one of the locked gates, and kept walking.  Greaaat.  I found that I was near the porta potties, which, blessedly, the one I picked didn't look outrageously nasty.  I then went on the hunt for the way out, again.  I finally followed a couple that seemed to know where they were going, and was out. I had tried calling Husband a few times, and as good as the coverage was before the concert, I might as well have been carrying a pet rock in my pocket, after.  I saw Husband walking with a concerned look on his face down to where the gates led, and so I pulled out my pocket flashlight, and started sending Morse Code to him.  He registered immediately, and sent back code to me (we both carry pocket flashlights).  So, having established that it was the two of us, I managed to get over to him, and we walked back to the truck. 

I told him about the concert, and he told me about some charming young gentlemen parked next to him that drank in the back of their truck until they felt the urge, then would drop trou and pee off the back of the vehicle.  (Modesty of bodily functions seemed highly lacking for some reason.)  Husband's main concern was that they didn't pee ON his truck, and they didn't, so he just figured, ignore it.  He said, (not a big surprise), he could hear the concert from the truck.  (And this is a man with a hearing problem...)  I mentioned that I wondered if I'd been around marijuana, it smelled strange at the concert.  Husband leaned over and sniffed.


Uh. Okay.  I am so sheltered.

We took off, and noticed that people were just walking, and driving, where ever they wanted to, it was sort of a herd mentality, (this was later confirmed, that a lot of people were mooing, because of the way they were treated at the concert), and we just took it slow and easy, not wanting to deal with a bunch of drunk/stoned/crazy/angry people. 

We managed to get out on the road, and then couldn't find landmark one that we recognized.  I finally saw a deputy and told Husband to pull over, then Husband asked if we were headed the right way.  The deputy started to tell us just to go, but I called out that we didn't know which way our campground was.  He asked, "Which camp?" 

Husband piped up, Veneta.

(Veneta is a town in Oregon. A town famous for a hippie festival, where imbibing recreational weed is winked at, at the most.)

I quickly said, VENTURE, not Veneta!  The deputy leaned over and sniffed at Husband, then said, up to the camp ahead, make a safe turn around, and go the OTHER way.   Soon enough, we managed to get back the right direction, and were campward bound. 

We arrived, and buzzed right past the poor check in lady, who was also on crutches. (I was beginning to suspect an epidemic of broken legs in Washington!)  We backed up, showed her our bands (to prove we were indeed camping there), and then went to bed. I told Husband he was not to wake me up, or I would remove his head from his shoulders bodily, when I woke up, I would wake up.

Time to Move On

So, I woke up, and registered the sun wasn't up.  Husband was awake, lying quietly. I looked at my watch.  He said, It's 4.  I sighed.  Somehow, I figured I might actually be SLEEPING the morning after the concert. No such luck.  So, I got up, and bless him, Husband made me a cup of tea.  We left about 5, and had several people crawl out bleary eyed from tents, looking daggers at us.  Oops.  We left quickly. 

The mountain in the morning sure looks bright and alive!  

Husband decided to treat me to seeing Multlomah Falls, and we would go along Highway 30.  This turned out to be a problem.  Highway 30 is an Historic Highway, and has remained as built, when Model A's were new.  We had a dually.  After several very close drive bys, Husband turned around and said he couldn't take the drive up, we were going back to the main drag and he was getting off the highway. (This is a man that can handle Downtown Seattle at Rush hour...)  So, the following are pictures that I managed to convince the camera to take of Horsetail Falls, the Multlomah Falls Lodge, and a teeensy peak at Multlomah Falls.

Horsetail Falls

Multlomah Falls Lodge
The best picture I could get of Multlomah Falls from the truck,
Husband wanted OUT of there at this point...
So, after a quick stop for breakfast at the Golden Arches Breakfast Club, we headed back to our house.  In Laws hadn't been eaten by the vicious llamas, Rudee was ecstatic to see us, Tuxedo tried to see if he could become one with my foot any time I moved, and all seemed well with the world.

So, asked one of my blog friends, would I do it again?


Probably not. 

Don't get me wrong, I loved it (well, except for the f-bomb woman, that was a little spooky), and I will have memories and pictures to enjoy, and was able to see and hear the energy of a concert, like my friends have spoken of, that I never understood before. 

But.  I wanted to do this, more or less to see what it was like.  I have.  It was good,well, great, actually.  If someone gave me free tickets to another concert, and I could talk to my bright, shiny new doctor about some strong pain pills for that night, I might consider it.  But, even then, I have my music, when I want, where I want, and somehow, I don't think Tom and Company would want to set up in the front pasture to play live while I cleaned out the hen pen. 

A "bucket list" item, perhaps?  It was always a "if I only could". 

Well, I grew a backbone, and I did.  So, now on to the next adventure. 

You know, I have heard that Sturgis is pretty interesting, when they have the Motorcycle Rally.  I think Husband might even want to take pictures there. 

Of the bikes, of course...  :)


  1. SUPER great post!!! You had me there with you! It was a great concert - but like you will probably pass on the next one.

    (There's no place like home, there's no place like home)

  2. No place like home...

    That's what my Husband said. And he doesn't even have any red shoes!


  3. Looks like you had a great time. Good, I'm glad. Have a great weekend, and keep the crap off yer shews.

  4. I'm so glad you had a (mostly) great time.

    Yes, go see the bikers. That is something I want to do someday, and probably won't ever get to.

  5. WOW, sure sounds like you had a wonderful time and enjoyed the concert, and your whole trip.

  6. Randy:

    Thank you, you have a great weekend, too. And keeping crap off the shoes has been a lost cause for some time, my dear sir. Else it wouldn't have been such an appropriate blog title...


  7. messymimi:

    Well, that one will take a HECK of a lot more planning, and I actually have other places that I would like to go first (coughALASKAcough)that I won't mention.



  8. Tina:

    You know, I did at that. Except for the crazy F-bomb woman, and possibly being in pain, it was a neat trip. And seeing "THE BAND" in for real person was worth it, in the long run, for me. (Mr. Joe Cocker and Company didn't hurt, either.)



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