I woke up yesterday morning with a song going through my head “It’s only Rock and Roll…” And I like it. Truthfully, it’s one of my least favorite Stones’ songs. But nevertheless, for no reason at all, that song chimed me awake. And as I was beaming and singing it, I knew: It was going to happen. I was gonna Stones it that night. No ticket. No matter. It was gonna happen.

For two days, I’d tried the newly released $85 tix, but every attempt ended in error. I have terrible dady-to-day karma, but for some reason, as if to make up for all the mishaps, I have good concert karma. I decided to get off of my cloud and drive downtown. No one wanted to bother coming down with me (“Impossible,” was all I heard, mixed with “yeah, right.” Staples is five minutes from my house, so what did I have to lose? I brought my salad and planned to stash my car in my secret free spot, walk a few miles and get some exercise. The fans could be a scene in and of themselves, so I’d check out the Stones crowd and see what happened. My strategy was this: Since the last-minute released tickets were only sold in pairs, I focused on people who were either standing alone or in triplets. SOMEBODY in the crowd had to have a situation fall through.

After two hours of checking out the fans, vowing on May 20 to come earlier than 6:30 (the box office had tickets at 5:30, but hey, I had to work and pay for the tickets, didn’t I?) But the sun was setting, I thought I’d give the line one last try. And there was a very subtle, real deal in a low-key blank t-shirt, Wavy Gravy hair, with a Neil Young glint in his eye. Paul! Turns out he’d come up from Long Beach in hopes of meeting someone there to sell the ticket to and share the concert with. Newfound friend, Paul, I’m the One! Rockstar angel! We had a blast — before and after the tequila. He hadn’t seen the Stones since 1978 in Anaheim, and when The Rolling Stones stepped out, smiling ear to ear, we boogied like it was 1978, finding that sometimes, you can get what you want and what you need.

UPDATE: When the Stones graced San Jose, they asked my alma mater The San Jose State Choraliers to sing the opening of “You Can’t Always Get What You Want.”  Lucky! I was part of the Choir of the World when the choir was winning European festivals, then led by Dr. Charlene Archibeque. On the night I was due with my son Roman, I was waiting to explode on stage and remember watching Dr. A’s steady hand and singing, hoping I didn’t break water in the alto section. Roman had some pretty incredible licks to listen to in utero while I was with SJCU choraliers. A few months after he was born, the choir went on tour to Hawaii where I had to pump that golden breast milk out, or watch it fountain all over the bikini.