You know, you start ridin' the Internet at one second after 10 AM. Those good tickets are going to be yours this time. You can just feel it. A few "System Too Busy" messages later, you finally get in. Excellent!!

There were no tickets available that matched your request.

There were no tickets available that matched your request.

Sigh...OK, let's just go for "Best Available", whatever that means. Well, it turns out that it means two seats in the very last row of the balcony of Boston's TD Banknorth Garden. Kinda disappointing, as I was buying these tickets as a Christmas present for Stepson #2. It was either this or shell out some crazy amount of cash for seats near the stage. Oh well, better luck next tour.

So last night, right after we'd frozen our keisters off walking the length of the Alewife Station T-Stop (Did I mention that it was about 10 degrees outside? With a 35-bazillion miles per hour wind?), waited for the third train on the Green Line at Government Center (they made everybody exit the first train we boarded at Park Street, of course with no explanation...because why would an employee of the M.B.T.A ever want to be helpful), waded though the security check, spent 20 minutes in the T-shirt concession/moshpit, paid too much for a crummy Coors Light (and don't get me started on the stupid rule that says my 22-year old stepson can't drink because he's not from the state of Massachusetts)...we get to the top of the last escalator leading to the balcony and section 307.

"Row 15" doesn't sound too bad if you don't put much thought into it. Then I turn around and see the section number, "307", emblazoned on the concrete wall directly behind Row 15. We trudge up there, take off our coats and sit down to begin the "getting used to it" phase of arena-induced vertigo.

Not more than 10 seconds later a man wearing a security badge approaches us and asks if we'd like some "better seats". Of course we would. We've been upgraded. A random act of kindness. Or something. Anyhow, we reverse our trudge, find the appropriate escalators and stairwells and end up at the "loge" level. Two steps through the curtain hanging across the doorway marked "15" (Funny,eh? 15?) and we find ourselves about 30 feet from stage right.

Amazing. I feel like I've been visited by the Rock 'n Roll Karma Fairy. Or something.

My only complaint (and this could have happened way up in section 307 too) was the idiot three rows behind us who felt the need to call every single one of his bonehead-buddies up on the cell phone, informing them of the goings on. "The guys are climbing the ladders to the rigging". "They're sending guys up to man the spotlights". "Mick's gonna hit the stage in about five minutes, I'll call you when he comes on!!" Louder and louder and louder this voice became. Maybe cell phones cause brain damage after all.

Oh yea...the show.

The opening act was Sloan, who I think I've heard a few times on the satellite radio. I liked 'em. Sorta reminded me of The Replacements with sweeter vocal harmonies. The crowd seemed to appreciate them too, at least the ones who were in their seats. I'd love to know where everybody was at that point. I mean, they couldn't have been out there drinking that lousy beer, could they?