I woke up this morning with a blog post in mind that involves the 1980s rock bands who are still touring and drawing huge crowds.  That thought sparked some fond memories I have of concerts at the awful, wonderful and 20 years long gone Hollywood Sportatorium. (Wikipedia really is fabulous, isn’t it?)

I met a cute boy named Donnie in the gravel parking lot of the Sportatorium after a Bryan Adams concert.  We were each with our own friends, parked next to each other and waiting for the over-crowded lot to clear out of rowdy (and drunk-- it was Florida in the 80s) teenagers.  We started talking… and ended up kissing while sitting on the hood of my brand new, midnight blue 1987 Camaro.  He wanted my phone number but I wouldn’t give it to him (he had “bad boy” written all over him and I was a good girl), so he wrote his number on the back of a picture of the Lauderdale-by-the Sea pier.  I worked in a photo lab at the time and was into photography and that was the only paper I had on me.  I kept that picture forever (I’m pretty certain I still have it somewhere), but I never called Donnie and I never saw him again. 

Memories don’t get any better than that, do they?  Sigh...

Alas, my day was sidetracked by some nasty weather (the tornado hit west of me, I’m fine), a sinus headache and other, more pressing work.

I’ll blog more about the good old days one day this week.

Life - thin as a thread
Sometimes you’re lucky
Sometimes you’re better off dead

Your first breath is taken and in to the world you are cast
You long for tomorrow while living each day as your last

Well I know what your heart desires
But you can’t take it with you
Into the fire

Now you’ve done all you can
Your life’s at the crossroads
You watch as it slips through your hands...

-- Bryan Adams, “Into the Fire”—1987

Posted by Kristina in Musings at 01:06 AM Permalink Leave a comment