The army party service (not their real name) came into 700 Pink (the musician) tickets, two available per ID card holder. So four of us (Amber, her husband and a friend of mine) piled into the car and drove into Nuremberg for a night of happy fun.
The way in was a bit slow, as we got caught up in a massive traffic jam for at least an hour on the autobahn before being shuffled into the parking lot, which was in the center of a field where Hitler had rallied a youth Nazi group. Amber pointed out the spot from which he’d spoken. I imagined him standing there. There’s no escaping history here.
The concert started with a large crane holding a box with four attached balloons, which was held up over the crowd. A big bang, and Pink emerged and dropped to the earth like a slutty angel.
Wild costumes, smoke machines, great back-up, and deep, strong voices filled the night air. Truly pure entertainment. I loved it. But I was thinking about the environmental effects of concerts, whether they were justified to continue, and the value of this sort of entertainment. (I was the kid who pondered fires during basketball championship games, after all.) I decided we need to enjoy life, and concerts are communal gatherings, shared happiness, and a good thing.
So I drank my beer and swayed along, delighting in the confirmation that I still love going out, and appear to have no set endpoint on how late I can stay. (I keep worrying that I’m going to wake up one day all stodgy and dull. What a relief that I am not.)
It was an excellent concert- a night of laughter and no worries. Except the part at the end where she fell off stage and couldn’t sing her last song. But that’s life. Even rock stars fall down. The whole thing, very rejuvenating.
Amber and her husband, Patrick, good Montana folks.
She's at the bottom. I was a little slow.