The second half of my VIP day was just as thrilling as the first part. After meeting Bruce, crying my eyes out and calling my sisters to gush I was exhilarated, but wiped out. Life had reached a level of completion and I was basking in that glow.

There was still the question of Bruce’s concert that night – live at the John Paul Jones arena in town. Hubby was still in the process of finding out if their crew were going to get tickets through Springsteen’s people, and if I would be included in the group. At that point, I didn’t really care. How could life possibly be any better?

I went home, had a glass of wine and uploaded and posted my heart out on Facebook – hell, I had bragging rights galore, and isn’t that really what Facebook is all about? My Jersey friends were going to eat this up. And I was not disappointed – the feedback was enormous. Photos with me and Jersey’s most famous son? Fuggedahboudit.

Hubby called me right before 7 pm to tell me we had tickets to the show. I quickly ordered a pizza for my girls, ran to change and hopped in my car to drive to town. My youngest gave me a little crap about leaving, but I told her this was mommy’s day and she just had to suck it up and be a big girl.

The rest of hubby’s crew were in no rush to get to the arena. We assumed that our tickets were at will-call so we headed there – and we were sadly mistaken. It seem’s hubby’s boss, who was at that time drinking beer and eating wings, had our tickets. We met up with the women who were in charge of Obama’s campaign headquarters in Washington DC. They were having ticket issues as well. They remembered me from the meet & greet – the crying mass of Jersey landfill – and told us to follow them.

Before I knew it, we were ushered into the back door of the arena – where all the tour buses are. Tour boxes and roadies and stage crew were milling about, and there was a black curtain with a security woman beside it. I could hear “Hungry Heart” playing.

I was backstage. At Springsteen.

Now remember, we have no ticket as of yet. The Obama gals at least had their backstage passes – they were lead down a hallway towards the arena. We were told to stay put. Backstage. At Springsteen. Oh, I’ll stay put.

Before long, Hubby’s boss shows up with our “credentials.” They weren’t tickets, but all-access wristbands AND a backstage pass. I could go anywhere except onstage. I was the queen shit. Life was fucking awesome for the next several hours.

We secured a spot right beside the stage next to the sound board. Bruce sang a very large block of tunes from his newer albums – albums I’m not familiar with. But I didn’t care – the view from our perspective was so amazing the music was secondary. It was so cool to see all the hustle and bustle of what goes on behind the scenes at a concert.

Hubby is the dude with the white hair. I’m next to him – lost in a sea of wristband clad arms.

Then he hit a block of songs we knew, and we all started to dance. There was a section of the stage right in front of me – I could touch it – and I was waiting for Bruce to come my way. It was during “Darlington County” that he turned and headed towards our part of the stage. The spotlight was on us, and I looked straight at Bruce and beckoned him my way with the curl of a finger.

Before I knew it, we were holding hands singing “sha la la’s” then he winked at me and sang “Hey little girl standing on the corner” and jumped into our little group. Hubby put his arm around him, he grabbed some dudes hat and wore it for a second, then got up and bopped into another section of the crowd.

We were all stunned and high fived each other at our good fortune. The whole concert was like that. Although I didn’t get my hands on Bruce again that night, I was within spitting distance of him several times. It was an amazing place to be, and I was with fun people. That made it all the more wonderful.

The last time I saw Bruce, I had gone alone. There was nobody to watch the kids, and tickets were expensive, so Hubby stayed home. I had such a miserable time – Springsteen concerts are like a party, and even if the music is great and the beer is flowing, if you are alone in a corner, it still sucks. It left a very bad taste in my mouth – I wasn’t sure if I’d go to another Bruce concert.

But this night, up close with good people? Simply amazing.

I went to bed that night in a total daze. Sleep didn’t come easy. I think I only got 3 hours sleep and had to head to work the next day. By 2 pm I was yawning and bleary-eyed – but I’d never felt better in my whole life.