...There was one tense moment between sets when a man told Lindsay, I think you're in our seats. Lindsay asked the man his seat number. As it turned out, the man was counting from the wrong direction. He walked away, but Randy, the innocent- looking- boy- from- next- door said, dumb s***! The incongruity of this response was too much: I collapsed with my head in Lindsay's lap, overcome with helpless giggles. Then I heard the same man's voice very close to my ear saying, something tells me you guys don't have a ticket. I blanched, my comic bliss-bubble duly deflated, but when I looked up, he wasn't there. Lindsay quipped, to no one in particular, whaddya mean I don't have a ticket, how d'ya think I got IN? Of course I have *A* ticket.....
Those seats were sitting there empty, going to waste. They might as well be used by ones who appreciated the experience of occupying them, unlike MANY OTHER RUDE AND DISRESPECTFUL TICKETHOLDERS who were taking their seats all during the first half of Joe's set. This was both distracting and APPALLING these people were not able to watch Joe perform. I could not understand why anyone would purchase seats in the very front, and then not be there, ready and waiting when Joe took the stage.
This was a LIVE CONCERT featuring a consumate guitarist - a singular event - even though some didn't appreciate this fact. For the sake of argument, let's imagine this was to be his final concert (Heaven Forbid, perish the very Idea). Would these same individuals have been so cavalier in their attitude if they thought this might be the LAST time they would ever see Joe Satriani play guitar? And who among us can see the future? How can any of us know if or when we will see him, again?
When the lights came up on his face ... (next pg)