Seeing the Beatles in concert

When I was sixteen I saw the Beatles at City Park Stadium in New Orleans. A friend's father volunteered to take as many girls as could fit comfortably in his Volkswagen Bus. So, my friend and six girls and her father and her father's girlfriend drove from Moss Point, Mississippi to New Orleans. Her father left us at the stadium about three hours before show time. We walked around the park and stadium then tried to find ways to sneak in. We all had tickets........they costs five dollars........but we were positive that the Beatles were in the stadium hanging out and we were going to find them.

Finally, the gates were opened and we ran in. It was a mad scene, just like all the news footage they show now of screaming girls crying and fainting. And, this was before the Beatles even got there. I can't for the life of me remember who the other acts were. I know one was a girl. I don't know why they even bothered. No one could hear anything. No one was even trying to listen to them. We were too busy screaming......'WE WANT THE BEATLES!!!'. My friend was in one of her pious moods and kept saying that George would not appreciate or approve of us doing that. I did see her with her mouth wide open a bit later though. She lost her voice before I lost mine.

A group of policemen came out and ringed the field, City Park was an open air stadium. We knew what was fixing to happen and I thought I was going to wet my pants.

Then, finally, there they were. John, Paul, George and Ringo. They ran up onto the stage and the screaming got even louder. I was deaf and hoarse by then, I was shortly to loose my voice completely. I have no idea what they sang or said. It didn't matter. What matter was that I was within fifty yards of THEM.

It was over all too soon. Girls were still crying and fainting. One girl sat under a tree sobbing because she had just realized that she had come as close as she was ever going to be to Paul. I was in another world. I KNEW that I was going to meet them one day. Not only meet them, I was going to be friends with them.

My friend's father found us and told us that as he was driving around New Orleans, he had stopped next to the limo the Beatles were in. Said that he could have reached out and touched Ringo. His daughter loved Ringo and started crying again. We all piled into the bus and talked at once about the concert. After awhile we settled down and some of us went to sleep. I got home at 3am and missed school the next day. My mother was mad. (and I am still amazed that she allowed me to go) But, I had seen the Beatles and ran across the field after them.

It's sad to think that sort of excitement leaves us as we get older. I do get excited about things, but not at that level of almost total abandonment. I don't know of anyone who does once they hit thirty or so. Too sad isn't it?