I've been in a bit of a foul mood since the Simon and Garfunkel concert fell through last year. I was ecstatic the day I bought tickets. After I got the confirmation email, I sat on the floor and cried. I was ridiculously excited…and equally crestfallen later when poor Art paralyzed his vocal cords and the tour was cancelled. Who knows if they will ever tour together again even if he gets his voice back (though I'm wont to believe that artistic temperaments that marred their partnership mellow with age—but I just don't know).

So, this time around, when Nick bought tickets to another concert, I held myself reserved. These aging musicians…you just never know.

I was at home getting ready to host a Lia Sophia party the next day. Another U.S. concert was announced for the current tour and tickets just went on sale according to the email he forwarded. I wasn't sure why he sent me the email since the concert announced was almost 2,000 miles away. He called me to chat. We carried on some inane chatter about the concert. He confessed that he was watching the tour schedule last year (while I was finishing up school). The tour never got close enough that we could attend one of the concerts without taking me away from schoolwork for a few days, so it was a no-go.

Paul McCartney was coming to Las Vegas on June 10th. Actually, Paul McCartney, Yoko Ono, Sean Lennon, Olivia Harrison, Dhani Harrison (who is the spitting image of his father), the fifth Beatle and his son (George and Giles Martin) were all in Las Vegas to celebrate the fifth anniversary of LOVE. Ringo was touring in Europe and unable to attend.

It was a neat idea, all of that winning DNA in the same place again.

It seems like we're always saving money for something. Last year it was the wedding and the vacation surrounding it. This year it is the reception we are holding next month. Next year I'm sure we'll be putting away money for Sophie's college fund. It's always something. I never considered that going to Las Vegas was a possibility.

We ended our phone conversation.

Minutes later, I nearly wet myself:Nick forwarded me another email. This time, it was confirmation of purchase for two tickets to see Paul McCartney live at the MGM Grand Garden Arena. I proceeded to freakout, crying and carrying on like a person who is very excited and doesn't have to worry about witnesses. Then I remembered Art Garfunkel and sobered.

I am sure Nick was mildly disappointed that I wasn't outside of my skin the two months leading up to the concert. I just didn't want to get my hopes up again. I couldn't get properly worked up until I knew for sure it was happening. By the time we boarded the plane headed toward Las Vegas, I was absolutely dazzled.

I have been a fan of the Beatles, and Paul McCartney in particular, nearly all my life. My father watched the Beatles perform on the Ed Sullivan show the day after his ninth birthday, and he was hooked for the rest of his life. I remember him singing, terribly, I Want to Hold Your Hand while he put the training wheels on my first bike. Every time a Beatles song played on the local "oldies" radio station, he turned the volume up to ear-piercing volume.

My mother used to sing to me at night, and one of the first songs I can remember her singing to me as I fell asleep was Ebony and Ivory. I remember my parents, young and in love, doing dishes together and singing the chorus to Uncle Albert/Admiral Halsey, wiggling their hips, and laughing like school children. Happy memories, very happy.

Whether they knew what they were doing or not, they spawned an über fan. Even the idea of seeing Paul McCartney live was one of the greatest rushes of excitement I ever felt.