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The JMU senior was mighty dubious. “Listen to us," his father and I insisted. “We know what we’re talking about. Bruce Springstein and Michael Jackson might sell out in a few hours — not Dylan and the Dead. They’re yesterday's stars.”
But oh, the times they have been a changing while we weren’t looking. The telephone was dialed; all lines were busy. When the call finally went through 15 minutes later, every ticket was gone.
"My summer is ruined,” moaned the JMU senior. “This was the ONLY thing I wanted to do."
Like any good mother faced with a heartbroken child sunk in deep depression, I got busy. I called a friend whose son is a Dead Head at U.Va. Undeterred by parental counsel, he had camped out in the parking lot and had extra tickets. (Dead Heads always buy to the ceiling that the outlet and their wallets will allow. THEY know there are millions of others like them out there.) He wanted $45 — more than double the original price — and it was a reserved seat with restricted view rather than the coveted field admission. But if it would save the summer for the JMU senior, it was worth it. However, at that price the rest of the family and our friends would stay home.
“Mom, Mom! They’ve scheduled another concert on Monday!” came the second excited announcement. This time, we didn’t argue when he insisted on spending the night at the ticket outlet; this time, we got our dozen tickets.
In two cars, ^ve joined the caravan down Constitution Avenue on July 7. edging in between battered vans and VWs plastered with Dead
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