Our 2012 visit to Toronto was mainly to see Bruce Springsteen in concert, and my husband and I managed to squeeze in some date time that weekend. Little did we know that seeing The Boss would go beyond the typical arms-length encounter between the performer-on-stage and his audience, but something that was much, much closer. And it was totally unplanned...and unexpected.
My husband is a huge fan of The Boss. When he heard that Bruce Springsteen and his E Street Band were doing a concert tour that year to promote their 17th album, Wrecking Ball, which was released on March 5, 2012, he checked their schedule and found out that Toronto was in the itinerary. He resolved to go and see him this time.
We missed the 2009 concert Working on a Dream (I was pregnant that time, but we were in Europe that summer and it was too late when he found out that the European leg of this tour was ongoing and that we could have extended our stay and caught him either in Denmark, Dublin, or Glasgow after our own tour). But we did see his Magic Tour concert in Vancouver in March of 2008 (my first Springsteen concert and his nth – he has seen so many).
My husband told me that this was the band's first tour without founding member, Clarence Clemons, the saxophonist, also known as the Big Man, who died in 2011. To fill this void, Springsteen added a full horn section, which included Jake Clemons (Clarence’s nephew) on the saxophone, three background singers, and a percussionist. He was not sure what to expect. He loves the Big Man as much as he loves the Big Boss and this concert would be different without him.
So, there we were in Toronto for that weekend, temporarily abdicating our parental duties and passing them on to my in-laws in Montreal, while we reverted to the carefree versions of ourselves...joining the crowd of concert revelers, just like the good, old days when we were young and single.
As expected, the stadium was packed. The audience was a mix of Boomers, Gen-Xers, Millennials, and younger people, including children. To my knowledge, Springsteen is one of the few musician/performers that can draw a crowd as varied as this. His music career spanned generations and his style encompasses a wide-range of genres. And at his age, his energy and endurance onstage are unmatched. I kid you not, he performed for three hours and forty-five minutes (including a long encore) without a single break, and his high spirits never waned until the end of the concert. Even the tear down crew in their orange hard hats were dancing as they waited at each side of the stage to do their jobs after everyone left.
The show was kicked off with a trio of Springsteen “summer songs” and closed with the festive “Twist and Shout.” In between, he treated us to powerful renditions of the new album's songs, as well as old classics, fast and slow. There was also a tribute to his late friend Clarence, and an introduction to the band’s new saxophone player, Jake. He’s big like his uncle, he's got the same signature wild hair, and he plays well. I guess my husband was happy with the replacement.
It was an exhilarating night of fun, music, and dancing. But all these were trumped by the real highlight of this trip – meeting The Boss himself the very next day, having a chat with him (in an environment bereft of screaming fans), and having our photo taken with him.
On the day after the concert, when we were heading to the Royal Ontario Museum via the Toronto hop-on-hop-off tourist bus, my husband and I got off one stop before our destination. He wanted to find a bakery to get freshly-baked bread and the bus driver suggested we try our luck around the Yorkville area, not far from the museum. He said there might be an artisanal bakery there or something similar.
Yorkville is a high-end area of Toronto, where one can find luxurious boutiques, posh hotels, fine-dining restaurants, chic cafés, polished bars, and expensive art galleries and design studios. This is the area where celebrities usually spend their time, and the posh hotels here are where Hollywood insiders are often hosted, especially during film festivals. Apart from expensive commercial establishments, one can also find Victorian homes with ornamental gardens lining side streets. We were skeptical about finding a bakery here, but we got off the bus anyway. At the very least, we could find a café that orders its bread directly from a bakery, and maybe they would sell us some if we would order something from their menu.
As we were walking, my husband noticed two guys along the sidewalk on the opposite side of the street. Here’s how our conversation went:
Hubby : Hey, doesn't that guy look like Jake?
Me : Which guy? And who is Jake?
Hubby : Jake Clemens…you know, the E Street Band saxophone player...the one who replaced
his Uncle Clarence?
Me : (looking closely at the guy that hubby was referring to)
Hubby : They even have the same long, curly, wild hairstyle.
Me : (while still closely studying the aforementioned guy) Errrr, honey, I think that might
actually be him. That’s not a Jake-look-alike. That IS Jake! (taking a second look) Yes,
definitely Jake!
Hubby : (considering my assessment and nodding) Yeah, you might be right…wait, yes, I think
you are right. The other guy is the pianist, Nils. I do recognize him.
Me : I told you.
Hubby : Sooooo….should we approach them?
Me : For what?
Hubby : For autographs or pictures or something?
Me : Nah...just leave them alone. They are on their personal time. I don’t think they’d want
fans approaching them.
Hubby : Okay, fair enough.
Me : (following Jake and Nils with my eyes and noticing they were heading to the cafe/pub
at the end of the street; alert radar activating in my head)
Hubby : (already forgot about the band members and changing the topic - something about
not finding a bakery around the area)
Me : (not paying attention to hubby; still curiously looking at the two guys; hunch
already brewing in my brains)
Hubby : (still blabbering about the absence of a bakery and suggesting we try the next
street)
Me : (noticing that the two guys were met by three other guys at the café; focusing
attention on this one guy wearing an all-black outfit with a familiar silhouette;
hunch brewing stronger)
Hubby : (still talking without even noticing he had lost his audience)
Me : (gasping as I saw the guy-in-black turn around and realizing that my hunch had
been right all along; it's Bruce, with the rest of the gang….Bruce, the one and
only…The Boss!)
Hubby : (finally noticing that I had stopped walking and seeing my mouth gaping open as I
stared straight ahead) Hey…what’s going on?
Me : (pulling hubby’s arm) The Boss! It’s him! Bruce! Follow me!
Hubby : Whaaaattttt? Wheeeeere? (not finding the time to say anything else, as I dragged him
along; starting to run to keep pace with me and realizing what I am about to do )
Me : Run faster! They are about to leave the café.
Hubby : What are you doing? I thought you said we shouldn’t bother them because it’s their
personal time?
Me : Forget what I said. Honey, we are talking about The Boss - your Boss. Run faster!
And things happened so fast indeed. All I could remember was us standing right in front of Bruce Springsteen and me saying something like, “Hello Sir, we were at your concert last night. You were amazing and we are such big fans. Would it be too much trouble if we could ask for a picture with you?”
He was so gracious. He thanked us for watching the concert and told us that it’s probably better to cross the street and have our photos taken at the park, since his party was about to leave the cafe anyway.
So, we walked with The Boss, with his body guard beside him, and his entourage behind us. My husband suddenly found his tongue and told Bruce what his favourite songs are. He also mentioned that we have a two-year old boy who has already been exposed to his music and already sings his songs, and that he hopes he continues touring in the years to come so that one day, we could take our son to the concert. Bruce said we could take him soon and added that he saw four and five-year old children in the front row the previous night, dancing the night away, way past their bedtime. Yes, next year, perhaps?
When we reached the park, his body guard offered to take our photo, with me in-between The Boss and my husband. We thanked him and his body guard afterwards and waved to his entourage. As they left, we stood there mesmerized, still not believing that the encounter actually happened. It’s funny because in all my years working in the television industry in the Philippines, I had never been star-struck with the celebrities I worked with. But this time, I was star-struck…and I was not even the fan here, but my husband, who, for some reason, appeared so calm.
When we recovered, we totally forgot that we were looking for bread, and instead started tracing our steps to the museum. Bruce and his entourage were walking just a few feet ahead of us. My husband asked if we should approach them again. “For what?” I asked. He said he felt it was rude of us to just say thank you and goodbye as soon as we got our photos taken…like we were sort of user-friendly people. But I said, “Trust me. It’s not rude. That’s what they would have liked…to be left alone. They are trying to be inconspicuous here and meeting a couple of fans is enough. If we keep talking to him, it might bring attention to the gang, which I am sure they won't appreciate.” And he said, “Okay, you know these things better than I do.”
Bruce and his entourage continued walking in front of us for the next few minutes, but we kept a safe distance. We did not want them to think we were stalking them and we did not want the few pedestrians around us to take notice. When we hit the other end of the street, they turned left, and we turned right.
I looked at my phone again to make sure that the precious photo was still there. I saved it in a couple of places, then sent a copy to my sister-in-law in Montreal, with the caption, “Meeting The Boss.”
Suddenly, my husband came to his senses and realized something. He said, “Hey, why were you standing between me and Bruce? Am I not the fan here? What’s up with that?” And I just said, “If not for me, you wouldn’t have this picture. And Bruce pulled me towards him, so I had no choice.” When he gave me a fake smirk, I added, “You’re welcome!”
At the museum, while my husband lined up and paid for our tickets, my sister-in-law texted back. She said, “Nice poster. Very lifelike. Was that at the Rogers Stadium?” I chuckled. She thought we were posing beside a poster of Bruce! So, I texted back, “Not a poster. That’s Bruce in the flesh. We shook his hands and talked to him.” And she said, “No way!” I told her I’d tell her the whole story when we we’re back in Montreal.
At the train station the next day, we saw a lot of Bruce Springsteen fans. It seemed like majority of the train commuters were out-of-town fans, who traveled to Toronto to see the concert, just like we did. It was an easy conclusion, for I saw Bruce Springsteen shirts, Bruce Springsteen ball caps, and Bruce Springsteen bags all over.
As we were lining up to board the train, my husband excused himself to go to the washroom. While he was gone, I overheard the guy behind me strike a conversation with the guy behind him. They were both wearing Springsteen shirts, so I guess it was an instant bonding for them. They were talking about the concert and how close they got to the stage. I couldn’t resist the urge. I butted in.
I said, “Excuse me, I heard you were at the concert. My husband and I watched as well. He’s a big fan. And I’m sorry for interrupting, but I just feel like I have to show you this.” And I turned on my phone and showed them our picture with The Boss.
Both guys gawked. “How did you get this?” they asked. So, I gave them a short version of our encounter with Bruce in Yorkville. One of the guys asked if it’s alright for him to show the photo to his buddies who were all behind him and I said it’s not a problem. “Hey, guys, take a look at this. This lady actually talked to Bruce.” And after the phone was passed around, there were cheers and shouts.
My husband came back to this commotion. I introduced him to my new acquaintances and they all said to him, “That’s very cool, man!” My husband later joked with me and said, “I disappeared for five minutes and you become friends with the whole train station!” I told him it’s called fan bonding. I couldn’t help not showing them our picture, not when we had the best bragging rights.
And once again, he teased me and said that he is the actual fan, but that after this concert, he was beginning to suspect I had been totally converted into a super fan. My enthusiasm surely exceeded his own. I told him that I do like Springsteen and that I just never really paid much attention to him before. My enthusiasm was a product of that one star-struck moment.
Little did we know that we would see him again in a few years…this time, in New York City...and as promised, with our son...but that’s for another story.
Photo Credits:
wagjag.com, thedistillerydistrict.com, rcarpi (Trip Advisor), tripadvisor.co.nz, creatorscommune.ca; theglobeandmail.com
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