Happy Friday, my friends. I'm still riding yesterday's coattails, basking in the glow of a very quick, very awesome photo opp with The Boss.
Bruce Springsteen was at the Free Library of Philadelphia promoting his memoir
Born to Run, released earlier this week. I pre-ordered my copy from Amazon and am actually excited to read non-fiction -
I know, who am I - so my signed copy is going to my Dad. He couldn't go yesterday and I might not be the huge fan I am today if I didn't grow up on this music. When he called not an hour after I was back at my desk I knew he'd say, "No, you keep the signed copy, that's yours," and SPOILER ALERT, he did. But it's mine and
I do what I want and what I want is to give it to him.
I thought about some things I might say to Bruce in the three seconds we interfaced, like how I grew up on his music or how I cried when Clarence died or how his lyrics speak to the blue collar piece of me or how many times I used his catalog as a road trip playlist or how his energy in concert feels like a tangible parting gift he gives to every person in attendance; then I realized if I attempted to say any of those things I'd probably tear up or babble or squawk like a high pitched chicken, so I just smiled and clutched on to him for dear life, which he graciously allowed. He had a strong, calm, humble vibe like after all these years as a legend he was still surprised and grateful that people came out to see him.
Huge thanks to Jimmy for the pre-sale code and shout out to my peeps in line. Standing in the misty annoying rain for over 2.5 hours was worth it for the five second interface. Plus I got to test out my rain jacket for Ireland. Pass, with flying colors.
I never thought I'd meet The Boss, and I'm happy I had the opportunity to. I'll never recover in a good way. There are very few people I fangirl over, and he is at the very top of that list.
