Shortly after we moved to Tucson, our son, Josh visited. Perusing the newspaper, he discovered that a very famous Rock Band was in town, whereupon he said, “Mom and Dad, you have never been to a Rock Concert. Well, now’s the time before you get too old.”

We couldn’t argue with logic like that. Unfortunately, three tickets had become available in the balcony. So, gritting my teeth, and stuffing cotton balls into my purse, we headed to the theatre. After we climbed to the balcony, I whispered to my husband, “Glad our seats are up here and not too close to the stage.”

When the musicians blew onto the stage (30 minutes late) the entire audience stood up and began to scream and sway. It was kind of like a religious revival, and I thought I had died and gone to Hell. Well, if you can’t beat them—join them. So, I stood up, let out a blood thirsty shout, waved my arms, and then sat down and stuffed cotton into my ears. I offered cotton to my husband, who by this time was so traumatized that he looked catatonic. I hadn’t heard this much noise since the County Road Department was breaking up concrete on our street.

Mercifully, there was an intermission. I knew it was intermission, because my ears stopped ringing and everyone sat down.This was my favorite part of the concert. Then the commotion began again, and I fished out some fresh cotton for my ears.

With this experience in mind, I came up with some rules that audiences at rowdy Rock Concerts should follow:

Stay Home! But, if you can’t do that, leave your machete at home, because you can expect a pat down.

Don’t ask people in front of you to sit down. They can’t hear you.

Don’t yell out, “Sweet Adeline,” when a performer asks for requests.

If you are going to drink in your seat, buy something in a can or bottle, because when you push your way back to your seat, you are sure to be bumped, pushed and jostled.

And, for God’s Sake do not spend the whole time looking at the band through your cell phone. For that, you could have sent a friend to the concert and stayed home (as I suggested in the first place).

When our experience at the Rock Concert was over, Josh enthusiastically said, “Wasn’t that great!” And, my diplomatic husband replied, “Son, that was really something. Please don’t ever make us do that again!”

Esther Blumenfeld