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I will admit I'm not a Fleetwood Mac fan, but the boy suggested I go anyway, sort of as a history lesson... not wholly unlike listening to your grandfather's stories about the war before he dies. I guess in that analogy, this could be my last chance to hear Fleetwood Mac before they all kick the bucket. So off I went...

Out of the car, and off I went, ticket in wing. (And a grateful quack! to Jodie for the tickets.) The snack line was a bit long (and blurry), but as I can't easily chew popcorn, it didn't much matter. The seats are nice, certainly, but not quite designed for the underweight concert goer...
... as demonstrated here. The slightest movement, and wham! The bloody thing collapses. My view from the beak-bleed seats -- hard to see, but I'm far younger than the band, I can see this far. I tried to get at least one or two pics with my smuggled-in camera, but this was as good as it gets. :(

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