Way back in the day, I lived in a southern NH town and was part of a neighborhood group of teens from a middle class part of town. We did lots of things together in various combinations of our group, there were around 30 of us aged 15 - 18. Sometimes we did naughty things like skip school and go get drunk under a lean-to we constructed in the woods - a practice that began during a prolonged teacher's strike. We also had flag football games on the grade school lawn or street hockey games.
As the counterculture was in full swing, going to concerts in Boston was one of our hobbies, some of us could drive and some couldn't, usually due to lack of access to a vehicle, but we would pile into whatever vehicle and get ourselves down to beantown for some great entertainment or a protest on a regular basis, concert tickets were so cheap back then and Boston was less than an hour away.
So the band Traffic was coming to town, one of their last concerts, Boston Garden - the basketball/hockey venue of note. Cool! Several kids in our neighborhood got tickets ahead of time*, some of us were unsure and decided to get tickets at the door. Turns out, there were a whole bunch of us who intended to go so making sure we all had a ride was interesting. I had a car at the time, a big Chevy wagon, 9 seater, got it from my dad for $40. With passengers set, we loaded up on that Friday the 13th and set out for beantown for a night of fun. It was summer so it was light well into the evening, the transportation portion of the following course of events took place before dark.
As I was gathering up the passengers, I let my BFF's boyfriend do the driving and remained our driver throughout, there was a question about the car's transmission, it was having issues and some passengers were uncomfortable so we decided to find another vehicle. The driver's dad owned a dairy delivery so we went to the shop and grabbed a delivery truck, all nine of us would fit. We had milk crates to sit on. But before we got to the edge of town we discovered brake problems and the sliding driver's side door wouldn't close. That presented us with a problem. A couple of the guys decided to split off and hitch-hike and another couple had come up with an alternate for them, no one could get a large enough vehicle for all of us. That left my BFF, her guy, two others and myself.
Not all of us had secured tickets, myself included, didn't seem it would be a problem as it was barnyard seating - the balconies had seats, the floor was the floor. The night's entertainment started before we crossed the state line, some substances were involved, primarily alcohol since that was easiest to acquire. Well, that stuff is liquid so it takes up room in one's pocketbook, my BFF's remedy was a large shoulder bag that held a substantial quantity but it did not have the capacity for the amount we had available for inside the venue and it all had to be transferred with each vehicle change. We just smoked pot on the way there.
We eventually found a car, my BFF's older sister had a new Saab we could use, not the bullet shaped kind, and we somehow all fit in it, off we went. At about dusk we were in Newton, MA where there was a route change and a large rotary, several lanes. As we entered the flow a cruiser behind us turns on its lights and we all have a heart attack, we'll be busted for substances and pot for sure and most of us are underage and, and, and... Shit! It's Friday the 13th, we're doomed!
So we pull over only to have the cruiser blast by us and nail someone else! a few seconds of realization and we're moving again as we marveled at our good fortune so far in our expedition only to find a parking spot right outside the front door of Boston Garden!! What?!?
We jump out, loaded up the liquor and into the cattle chute we go. Somehow, there didn't seem to be a ticket counter anywhere visible at the entrance so as we become swept up in the mass of humans slowly walking up the ramps, a strategy must be devised for those of us with no tickets. Hmm. My BFF was a highly functional drunk and as blasted as she was, came up with a totally credible, to us, plan to get me inside the concert. The rent-a-cops were thick, a line of five to seven at every door, I'm thinking, "Ok, BFF, I want to fucking SEE this!" like it was a challenge.
At my age, at the time, I wasn't hard to look at so my BFF had that as the weapon and my attire at the time was a workable option in her thinking. I was wearing a western style blouse with snaps and some kind of short shorts, very long hair and a figure I wish I could restore. She had me unfasten my blouse to a provocative depth and roll up the bottom and tie it around above my waist. If I wasn't so high I might have objected but I wanted to get inside so... She then briefed me on the story line that she was going to use and what my lines would be if I had to say anything.
And by then, we were up to the doors and the rent-a-cops. Cops were checking tickets and asking if you had any illegal substances in your bags, remember BFF has a large, decorative, leather sack full of bottles of alcohol on her shoulder and she's absolutely lit. Fortunately the line of cops we ended up dealing with were mostly hippies, one had hair almost as long as mine, and only one actual city cop who was asking all the questions and he starts asking us for tickets, this part went by very quickly. BFF starts in with,
"Well, I have my ticket and the others have theirs but 2na's boyfriend has her ticket and we got split up somehow and now we have to find him to get her ticket. How can we do that?
Cop, "Well we, I don't know, ma'am, but... (tells another to check her bag for whatever because it looks kind of heavy, raCop asks her if she has any liquor in there).
BFF, "But she'd have to stand out here and how are we going to find him in there?" As she's relating the rebuttal the raCop is asking her about the bag,
"Got any booze in there?"
Without breaking stride she turns quickly and says, "No" to the raCop as he pats the bag and says,
"You're lying"
BFF, "I know" as she continues on smoothly explaining the issue of why I don't have my ticket to the other Cop.
Another raCop, the one with the hair, has been observing the conversation, chuckling to himself at the banter while also looking me over, smiles as I notice. Then the real Cop decides, fuck it, let them go. And we got in!
...before the music started. With I don't know how many thousand people who were on the floor, we managed to locate the rest of the entire neighborhood group from our original vehicle and the rest of the neighborhood kids that went that night.
We had a great time and found our way back home, safe and sound. Best Friday the 13th ever.
*This usually required making an earlier trip to Boston area to get tickets at a music or record store.
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