I was invited as a plus-one to the Tom Petty concert. Cool as a cucumber, I accepted the invite, and made my way to the venue via the 1 train.
Tom Petty seems like such a familiar name to me that I expected the subway to feel like it does on the way to a Yankees game – everyone buzzing and wearing para-fan-alia (get it?). But it wasn’t. No one even headed the same direction as me once we got off the train. When I met my date at the venue, I realized why.
These were VIP tickets, so it was for entrance an hour before the show started. Everyone in the group was the equivalent of a Dead Head, but for Tom Petty. What would we call that? A Heartbreaker?
I don’t know. Because I’m a poser. I actually can’t even name a single Tom Petty song, so I was out of my depth when people in line starting comparing their Tom-themed tattoos.
Someone quick. Hand me a sharpie. I’ve got work to do.
