The Boss

by Nicholas Allen — September 11, 2007

Bruce Springsteen is coming to New York in October, and for a Jersey boy like me that's big news. Tickets went on sale yesterday, and they usually sell out pretty quickly, so my friend John (who I always go to see Springsteen with) and I hatched a simple plan: each of us would queue up on Ticketmaster starting at five to nine yesterday morning (tickets went on sale at 9:00am sharp). Meantime, he would also have his wife, and I would also have Patricia, simultaneously working the phones to see if they got through to Ticketmaster that way--and whoever got through first would purchase four tickets. "My birthday's in October," I told Patricia the night before, when I was explaining our game plan. "So think of helping me out with this as an early birthday present."

"If this is your idea of a birthday present, I think you're way underselling yourself," she replied, smiling.

The simplest plans are said to be the best, but somehow this one didn't get off the ground the way it was supposed to. We duly set the alarm for 8:30 before we went to bed the night before. When it went off yesterday morning, I couldn't help rolling over and giving Patricia a kiss (the impulse to kiss Patricia when I find her in my bed is almost always overwhelming). Before I knew it our good-morning kiss had turned into the two of us rolling around, lips locked and hands wandering. Crucial minutes ticked by, and the only thing getting out of that bed were the clothes we were tossing onto the floor of my bedroom.

"I'm sorry," Patricia said with an air of assumed innocence at one point. "It's just that I started thinking about your birthday, and then I started thinking about the ways I would celebrate your birthday..." And her words trailed off as her mouth found its way to my chest and moved persistently downward.

It was almost 10:00, and the two of us were bordering on being late for work, by the time we finally pulled apart and headed for the shower. A few minutes later the phone rang, and I noted guiltily that it was John. I wasn't looking forward to telling him how egregiously I'd dropped the ball.

"Good news!" he greeted me. "We got the tickets--four great seats!"

"Terrific," I responded. "We, um, didn't have any luck with tickets here..."

The simplest plans may be the best, but it's still always a good idea to have an equally simple backup plan. Just in case.

Nicholas Allen is a writer and columnist based in Manhattan. To read all of his blogs, click here.