After a few minutes, I noticed that there was an open gate about three hundred yards away and that several people had circumvented the road barricade by walking through the gate and down the road that was adjacent to and directly behind the guards watching over our line.
"I'm going to try it," I said to my crew. "I'll call you and let you know what I find." Five minutes later I was first in line at the main entry gate. Fifteen minutes later, the other three were there too. Then we waited . . . for over an hour and a half, and the anxiety began to build.
"What if the ticket scanner for this line doesn't work?"
"What if our tickets blow away or we lose them right before the lines open?"
"Will they not let us in because we have these candy bars?"
My sister-in-law just rolled her eyes and said, "You all need medication." I could have definitely used a beer.
When the gates finally opened, we were off to the races (after being frisked by what seemed to everyone in our line to be the slowest frisker of them all)! Once in the amphitheatre, we had to get first-come-first-serve white wristbands that read "Entering moshing and or crowd surfing areas is at own risk" in order to gain access to the floor seats closest to the stage. Seats were available in the front row, but there was a amplifier obstructing the view, so I opted for the better angle in row two. To my frustration, the amplifier was removed just before the concert began. Ah, we were close enough.
As I described in an earlier post, Buffett played Last Mango in Paris as the one and only encore, which he dedicated to the late Ed Bradley and Captain Tony Tarracino, who died the day before the concert. Jimmy sang through tears, and we all felt blessed to be so close at that extremely moving moment.
On the way out, I had my picture taken with now President-Elect Obama. He was decked out in Parrot Head gear. See for yourself:
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