What do the Eagles, Elvis, and Neil Young, All Have in Common?

Oh come on. I'll give you a guess.

1974. 1971. 1973.

I've got you thinking, don't I?

Okay, what does having the most fun in all your entire life on this earth, agreeing to go on a date with someone you simply loathe and wishing you could come down with some weirded-out disease to get out of it, and seeing your absolute idol for the first time as a young hippie-wannabe and nearly passing out from the excitement--in that order--have in common?

Okay, sheesh. I'll tell you.

These are people/bands/idols I at least can remember to have seen in concert.

I'll tell you why I bring this up. Tonight, I will be joining my adopted daughter, Amanda, on a trip to the Wicomico Civic Center in Salisbury, Maryland, to see two dudes dressed in cowboy hats named Montgomery Gentry.

I don't mean any disrespect, but my car (which housed the main source of my music entertainment) is still sitting in the yard, waiting to be fixed, and I haven't heard any music, country or not, in ages.

So, Amanda asks me last month if I want to go, she'll pay for tickets. She says they're a country band and she knows how much I love country.

So I said yes.

Well, today is the day of the concert, and I have nothing to wear, have way too many projects to complete, and haven't been to a concert since my hippie-wannabe days, and quite frankly, I wouldn't even know how to act if I were at one.

So, I'm wondering how much has changed.

Are we still allowed to hold lighters in the air, or will they be confiscated by the guards in case we have plans to burn down the place?

Can we take our own drinks inside or are they going to be seized because we are smart enough to make bomb-like weapons out of them and blow up the only source of entertainment in our corner of the woods?

What about screaming and yelling, "Peace, baby!"

Oops, this is country. How about "Yee-haw!"?

Can we do that?

Are we supposed to do that?

And what do you wear to these things?

I guess you can tell I'm not really looking forward to this. I don't have any cool, stylish clothes. I don't even have a cowboy hat.

What a waste of good writing time, but I'll let you know how it pans out. Wish me luck. I'll need it while trying to find that happy face I used to have. Groan.

Long live Woodstock, baby.