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I saw Paul McCartney last night. I know what you’re thinking right now — what’s a guy your age doing at a rock concert on a school night?

But that’s part of it — I wanted to prove I could go to a real rock concert and still get to work on time the next day.

And so, since I am here —

Mission accomplished.

But also it’s because Paul McCartney is the living representation of an era, so you go, to see if it can bring back old feelings.

Actually, the first thing it did was make me feel like that ad where you become your parents — why do you have to go through security? Couldn’t they label the rows with bigger letters so you can see them? Why is the stage so far away? Are rock concerts always this loud?

But we finally found our seat. We entered from the wrong side and the whole row had to get up — and also I will say — I don’t believe I have ever seen in a seating section quite that steep — I felt like a needed a parachute — but I’m happy to report I experienced only minimal vertigo so:

…another gold star for me.

As for the concert, Paul’s voice is pretty husky now, but then he’s 79, and husky or not, I admire any performer at any age who can hold a crowd playing alone on a guitar or a ukelele. And those solos were my favorite parts.

A lot of feelings came flooding back, but this is the part where I got all caught up in the moment and my mask got all wet — when he just sat down at the piano to play a few chords.

I looked around for a sign of a little teenage sparkle in all those 70-something faces … yeah, it was definitely there.

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