No matter. It was the last day of school, and there couldn’t be a better way to start the summer. After seeing the band seven previous gigs myself, it was finally time to take Scarlett and Lily to their first Rolling Stones’ concert. We all wore our Stones’ T-shirts. We took pictures of the stage, with its massive tongue-and-lips design, before the show began. We chatted for a few minutes with my sister, who had made the last-minute decision to grab tickets on StubHub and head down with a friend. That long car trip was fading into memory.
The lights went down and the pre-show music came up. I had seen some great Stones’ shows over the years, with and without Bevin, but having the girls there this time made it even more special. The band kicked into “Get Off Of My Cloud” and we were rolling.
The volume was brutal, but we had earplugs in, so the girls were doing OK. “It’s Only Rock ‘n Roll” and “Paint it Black” followed. We had been on our feet singing along, dancing, and doing the Jagger-point, but by “Gimme Shelter,” the girls decided to sit. I stayed up and kept dancing, getting bumped into ceaselessly by the woman next to me. Unbeknownst to me at the time, Bevin, on the other side of our two seated daughters, was being offered a hit by the woman next to her. She declined.
At some point in the show, Lily fell asleep. Literally. In the 200 tier at the arena, the World’s Greatest Rock and Roll Band playing at the other end, and my daughter is slumped down in her chair, out. You’d think she had been behind the wheel for the drive down 95.
Scarlett, on the other hand, was in tears. Bevin and I had switched spots, and she was trying to console Scarlett, but it was not going well. I guess the whole spectacle was just too much for her, and she had crumbled. I was still trying to enjoy the show, while checking in with Bevin. The band was only about ten songs into a twenty-two song set, but I told her we could leave if Scarlett needed to. After a trip to the bathroom, they decided we could stay.
The concert, by all reports, was one of the best of the tour. In addition to all the classics, we heard the extended masterpieces “Midnight Rambler” and “Can’t You Hear Me Knocking,” plus a cover of “Under the Boardwalk” with Aaron Neville. When the opening chords of “Jumping Jack Flash” kicked in for the second encore, I tried to rouse Lily. And tried. And tried. But no amount of shaking seemed to faze her; she continued to sleep through a Rolling Stones’ concert. Scarlett, fortunately, was on her feet.
Keith Richards ripped into the unmistakable “Satisfaction” riff, I knew the concert was ending, and I could not let Lily miss the whole thing. I made another attempt, and this time she came to. After a moment of grogginess, she was able to sit up and enjoy the last moments of this night with the legends.
Despite their difficult evening, the girls were wide awake on the train leaving the arena. As the youngest fans there, they were little celebrities, with several people asking them what they thought of the concert, and them smiling broadly.
Still, I felt a little bad about how things had gone down. They were eight and ten at the time, and I wasn’t sure if I’d made the right decision in bringing them. I had made the call to do so because, well, at this point, we never know when a tour could be the Stones’ last, and I didn’t want them to miss out. I just hoped they wouldn’t remember the show as a nightmare.
My fears were assuaged as we got dressed in the hotel the next morning. I had brought my iPod dock, and the girls ran back and forth to it repeatedly to play their favorite Stones’ songs. I breathed a sigh of relief, and smiled that their love of the Rolling Stones was growing.