Hop on the Bus

When I was 16 I spent a summer as a counselor at a day camp for underprivileged, inner city youths. (I had my car and my locker broken into more times than I can count, hut that's another story.)

One day a slightly older co-worker asked me if I wanted a ticket. To see the Rolling Stones. At Madison Square Garden. That night. Mick Jagger's birthday. For free. (This was the 1972 tour, when the Stones were still at their peak.)

He, for some reason, only had the one ticket, and his girlfriend was pissed that he didn't have two (to also take her) and that he was even THINKING about going himself. So I got lucky.

I lived in New Jersey, about 40 minutes outside Manhattan by bus, and went into the city regularly. After work my mother gave me a ride to the bus station, and off I went.

Stevie Wonder was the warm-up band, and he was incredible. The Stones were as well. But the best part of the concert was my seat mates.

Just before Wonder came onstage a large, very flashy black man and two black women sat in the three seats next to me. I realize now (but certainly didn't then) that he was a pimp, and the two women were his ... employees.

For some reason he took a liking to me, a skinny, long haired, suburban white kid. He offered me liquor from a flask (I declined) and then some "blow" (I didn't know what that was), but didn't seem to mind as I repeatedly turned him down.

One of the women was VERY affectionate with him during the show, while the other was eying me. As the concert was nearing its end, he started talking about what we should do after the show.

"Looks like Charisse (the name of the woman who was eying me) really likes you. After the show come back to our hotel for a little party."

I, having no idea what he was talking about, thought for a minute. "Oh, I can't," I told him. "The last bus leaves at 11:30."

"The last bus?" He was incredulous.

"Yeah, I took the bus here. I can't miss the last bus."

"Instead of coming with us you're gonna catch a bus?" Now he seemed amused.

He shook his head. Charisse giggled a little, as did the other woman.

The concert ended and we parted, me wondering what it had all been about (I'm a little less naive now) and he, no doubt, muttering "crazy white kids" under his breath.

To this day I consider it one of the best concerts I've ever attended. Even though, in retrospect, it appears that I might have missed the best part.