
A Sad Mick Jagger Story
No sex is involved
It was a hundred years ago. I drove into Ft. Worth. I parked my car and stood in line for two hours. As the line grew shorter I ignored my full bladder.
Why would I do such a stupid thing?
Duh! I was trying to buy tickets to a Rolling Stones concert. The whole time I was standing in line I was imagining my girlfriend’s face as I flashed two tickets to a Rolling Stones concert before her. I pictured her freaking out with excitement. I imagined the thank you hug and kiss and the appreciative lovemaking the night before the concert. Yes, I would be the MAN who took her to a freaking Rolling Stones concert!
The line kept getting shorter and shorter.
Suddenly, I was just four people from the window. And then the window closed down and a sign went up that read, “Sold Out!”
My full bladder was the last thing I was thinking about. I was devastated. I was just four people away from seeing the Stones live! The lovemaking on the night before nothing turned out to be altogether way too appropriate.
Luckily, I was able to secure tickets to a Poco concert three weeks later. Unfortunately, the girlfriend broke up with me before the concert. I ended up taking the guy from the apartment complex who helped me fix a flat tire. Seriously?
I felt pretty secure driving to the concert with this fellow because I figured if my car broke down I might have someone to help me out of it.
Before the concert this guy pulled an envelope out of his pocket. In the envelope were two tabs of acid. He asked me if I wanted one.
Seriously? Do you even have to ask?
I may have never been able to see Mick and Keith in person and I may have not topped off a delightful evening with exciting, sensuous lovemaking but I did become an ardent, devoted fan of Poco.
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