This was one of those embarrassing memories. I was pretty psyched to see John Fogerty, but unfortunately, none of my friends shared my enthusiasm, so I ended up going by myself. Since I was alone and bored before the show, I spent a little more money at the beverage booth than I probably should have. The first act came on, and I became very aware of that certain unease in my stomach, so I made a rapid dash to the bathroom and actually made it into a stall (which thankfully was clean). After getting quite sick, I made it back to my seat and sat there alone, not feeling all that well.
Fogerty came out, and he sounded good. I remember hearing about five songs, and then the next thing I knew, I was being awoken by a man with a broom, the harsh lights jarring my brain: “Time to go home. Concert’s over.” I looked around and I was the last person there, except for the staff cleaning up. I dragged myself out of the venue and went to the bus stop. I tried to console myself with the fact that I did get to see a few songs, but honestly, I was feeling pretty depressed about the whole affair.
Oh well, these things happened at concerts back in the day.