Once again, the local radio station built up my hopes for the past week.
"There's a huge concert announcement. Listen up! Wednesday morning. Nine a.m."
I was pumped. Was it going to be the
Beastie Boys, Manson, Celine? The intrigue was almost too much to bear.
I woke up Wednesday morning at the usual 8:45, and made it to work just before nine. The announcement got closer and closer.
Who was it? Damn
Bon Jovi.
Whoopity Do. Are the eighties making a comeback?
I was stocking the coolers when the radio
dj spread the news.
Then I heard the ticket prices -- $170 to $90. My jaw dropped into a bin of chicken wings. Holy
molly.
I'm still more disgusted by the cost than I am that my chin marinated in cold chicken blood.
I'm trying to figure out if there's a band out there that I'd pay $170 to see. I can't think of one. Maybe Nirvana if Kurt rose from the dead as a zombie and devoured the band at the end of the show. Goodbye Dave. I will miss the Foo Fighters. Your other bands not so much.
It's hard to believe that there's people out there that can afford the $170. I guess they have way too much money and nothing to spend it on. I'm also assuming they haven't heard of charity.
Go spend your money on a washed-up 80s rock icon instead of helping cure cancer or feeding that starving
Ethiopian.
I won't be going to the concert.
