Three Days. No Voice. Worth It.

Let me start with saying that having a birthday in July usually sucks, at least it did when I was a kid. Most of my friends would go on awesome family vacations or to stay with family for the summer. The year of my 15th birthday I spent most of the summer listening to Aerosmith’s new album, Get A Grip. I knew all the words, as I did to all their music.

I was not planning on having a party that year. Instead, I was having a BBQ with my parents and the new girl that had recently moved in down the street. It was a nice day. We listened to music, danced around, ate, and had cake. I wasn’t really expecting any gifts since cards from family had already come in the mail. To my surprise, my dad had a card for me. I was curious. A card from my parents was not normal, a gift yes, but not a card.

The envelope gave no resistance as I pulled it open. No card. I looked inside. There I saw three tickets, but these were not just any tickets, these were Aerosmith tickets. I jumped up and screamed. He told me the concert was not until October. I was sad for about a minute then my dad said we can countdown to the concert. I marked each day off, waiting as patiently as I could.

October finally came. The concert was about forty-five minutes from our house, and it was a drive I knew well. We went the same route to my grandparents' house. As we got closer to the venue the traffic got heavy. It was like the freeway when an accident happened. I was driving my dad crazy worrying that we would be late. He assured me that there was a band that came on first, so we had time.

After finding a spot to park we walked a long way. Finally, we were inside. There were drink vendors and places to buy shirts along both sides of the path. I followed my dad as he led the way to our seats. We passed a huge area of grass with people roaming to find a spot. Then we began going down the bleacher type seats. We kept getting closer and closer to the stage. At last, we reached our seats. We were thirty-three rows from the stage right in the center.

Over the next few hours, I sang my heart out at the top of my lungs. I was yelling and screaming having the time of my life. At some point toward the end of the concert the people a few rows in front of us started yelling at me. They were being very rude, especially since I was a kid, and they were adults. My dad did not take to kindly to them acting this way toward me. He got up and yelled at them. There was almost a fight.

The concert ended without any problems. We stayed behind to watch the stage get cleared down and so that traffic would not be so bad getting out of there. Once we headed for the car my dad stopped at get me a shirt. The walk to the car seemed to take longer than it did when we got there. Looking back, I know it’s because of how tired my legs were.

I passed out in the car and stumbled to my bed when we got home. The next morning, I was startled awake by music. My dad had brought his huge speakers down the hall to my door and blasted Aerosmith. I jumped out of bed trying to explain how not funny he was but all I could do was open my mouth.

Apparently, I had yelled and sang so much at the concert that I had no voice. It took three days for my voice to come back but it was worth it. My best concert memory is Aerosmith with my dad.