Incident On Asylum Street

Hi. Last night I went to see Bruce Springsteen at the XL Center in Hartford. Bruce is the hardest working 63 year old man in show business. A 3 hour and 25 minute set by my watch. He is always amazing but as a hard core fan, any show that features Kitty’s Back, Point Blank, and a full band version of Incident On 57th Street breaks the scales on the awesomeness meter.


But it was more interesting than just that. I had forgotten to order a ticket when they went on sale so I decided to try my ace in the hole: visually impaired seating. I’m visually impaired so why not? The younger me would have scoffed at such things and wondered if that constituted a form of playing the victim but the world is built on preferential treatment so why shouldn’t I take advantage too when I can?


So I had an amazing seat in the front row on the side looking straight at the stage. The lights went down and I did what 99 percent of the arena did: I stood up. There were two people behind me sitting down and I saw them talking to the security guard. Oh no. The security guard went over and talked to a couple guys a few seats over from me—but they kept standing. I sat down for a couple slower songs but I stood up again. Pretty soon after a woman tapped me and said, “Can you sit down?” and the other pointed to the security guard. The one that spoke to me was a middle aged woman with what appeared to be an older gentleman. Okay, so they weren’t 22 or anything but….it’s still a rock show, right? It’s not a symphony. I’ve actually gone to one or two of those—and I sit like everyone else. So aren’t the sitters at rock shows the tourists in Rome who have to adapt to the habits of the Romans and not the other way around? So I pointed behind us and said, “Look at everyone else here. They are standing. I’ll sit for now but I’m going to stand up later”.


Granted, the people right next to me were sitting too. But again. 99 percent of the arena was standing! I was in the “special section” so maybe more sitters were to be expected. But even so, why sit? My life is centered around a central irony: I am a disabled person (according to the law and its definition of legal blindness at least) but I spend my life telling people who think they are disabled they are not disabled. They are told they can work by a guy who—according to the law—can’t work but works anyway and tells them to do likewise. No one said life is supposed to make sense. But I do believe that within certain boundaries and ratings along the Bell Curve, disability is an attitude. The world is a stage and we are players and to a large degree we are assigned parts in the play of life and we conform to those parts: we adopt the costumes, speech, habits, and even thoughts of a particular role. Many people are either told by others or by their own inner voice that they need to play the role of the disabled! So they do. But they don’t always have to! In my mind people not standing up at a loud, high energy rock show and insisting others not stand up either is letting the role have too much authority. It’s letting the play inform reality, not the reality inform the play. Disabled or not disabled, rich or poor, weak or strong, beautiful or ugly, we should all stand up! Who is with me?!!??


But it’s hard to deliver such a speech in the teeth of 120 decibels of raw rock power.


Later I heard them talking to the security guard again. He told them, “I can’t tell him to sit down. I could offer you seats farther back but you don’t want to take those seats?”. So that was it. Justice prevailed! The spirit of high energy rock and roll was preserved! Roll over Beethoven and tell Tchikovsky the news.


That’s not the end of the story.

Halfway through the show, Bruce played one of his classics Out In The Street and went, you know, out in the street. Or out in the crowd. The aforementioned middle aged woman behind me tapped me and said, “Can you move to the side so he can see my mom?”. I thought, “What?”. But I moved.


Then I saw Bruce coming RIGHT TOWARD ME. I tapped my lifelong hero on the back. (He was drenched in sweat). And said—of course----“Bruuuuce!”. He then stopped……at the row right behind me and told 16,000 of us, “This is Max’s mom”. And hugged her.



Oh my God.


It was an old lady??


And it was Mrs. Weinberg???


Oh my God.


Max Weinberg is of course the drummer of the E Street Band. The Mighty Max. Former bandleader of the Conan O’Brien Show. A national treasure! Bruce then unknowing drove the knife in when he added, “97 years old!”. Then he finished me off with, “97 yeard old!! And she’s at a rock show!”.


This could only happen to me.


Or George Costanza. But I actually think I might have out-Costanza'd Costanza here!

Oh and sure enough, here is the video to prove it…..


http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=flG_BzrpqZE


A couple songs later—my conscience actually causing excruciating pain—I leaned back and said to the woman I now knew was Max’s sister, “You should have told me you were the Weinbergs! I was just thinking it was a rock show so I should be able to stand”. She said, “Well, she doesn’t see very well”. I said, “Neither do I, actually”.


So maybe she didn’t think I was a total creep. I wasn’t 100 percent sure.


I also decided to try a compromise—which I should have thought of from the beginning—by standing--but in the aisle. The security guards didn’t say anything. So please let the record show that this poor old woman had a PERFECT view of the second half of the show!




I was feeling better until nearly the very end of the show. They left a little early—although until well after 11 PM. Bruce was right, that old girl could rock! As she was about to leave I saw the security guards rolling out…….wait for it………….a wheelchair. Why, God, why? I must have had a truly forlorn, guilt ridden look on my face. Max’s sister—I think—gave me a wave goodbye. Or was she waving to the security guards? Let’s go with the former. And Bruce and the band happened to be playing the song Bobby Jean—a song about a sad goodbye to someone. To me this poignant number will always have the elderly and wheelchair bound Mrs. Weinberg written all over it!


Now again……..this WAS a rock show. Have I mentioned that already? And I didn’t know she was in a wheelchair! (Although she stood when Bruce hugged her—maybe she just can’t walk long distances?). And as far as me confusing her for a man……it was dark. I have poor vision. As we age, men lose testosterone and women lose estrogen so we all start to look roughly the same. It’s not my fault I swear!

And since the meeting with Mrs. W was obviously a planned thing given her daughter's comment to me, maybe Max or Bruce go them their seats too? Why didn't they get them front row seats instead of 2nd row seats? It's Bruce's fault! That's my story.  

I feel this incident—should I call it Incident On Asylum Street?—has really brought me closer to the entire Weinberg family. For example, per Max’s Wikipedia page, Mrs. Weinberg is named Ruth. Max has three sisters named Patty, Abby, and Nancy. They are from Newark, NJ. I’m not going to lie to you, the Wienbergs and I have had our ups and downs, but our bond is even stronger for it! So Ruth, Patty or Abby or Nancy, I’m just bloggin’ one last time not to change your mind, but just say I miss you baby, good luck, goodbye!