- 11 years ago,
I put together the perfect plan
to break into a private concert
and this is that story.
So this all starts the summer
of my junior year of college.
I had a job bartending.
It was a regular gig at a local bar on Main Street,
but every so often I would take catering gigs
for a little extra cash.
So that summer, this catering company
got this contract to cater these five private concerts
for this ritzy private school out east.
Now the concerts were Tom Petty,
Prince, Dave Matthews Band,
I forget the fourth one,
but the five one was Billy (bleeping) Joel.
To give you some context here,
Long Island has been referred to as The Joel Bubble.
Now, obviously he has fans everywhere
but I was in the epicenter
and he's just as big as it gets.
I'm just trying to get you as excited as I was.
Now, because my main gig was at the bar,
I couldn't just abandon all of my ships,
so I decided to choose two of the concerts
and I got Dave Matthews Band and of course, Billy Joel.
Now, granted I would be working during the shift,
but it was a free way to get in
and I had already decided I would be working
as little as possible.
Now, the concerts were supposed to be on the sports field
which is pretty intimate, considering the level
of the people that were performing.
Fast forward to two weeks before the gig.
I get a phone call.
The catering company have lost the contract.
No!
Now look, they were a good catering group
but I just don't think that they were able to
match the ritz and glamor that the school was going for.
Needless to say, I was heartbroken.
Not only was I not gonna get to see Billy Joel,
but now I was out two shifts of work.
Days later,
I decided.
I'm still going to this concert.
I will devise a plan
to go and see Billy Joel.
Anyone that knows me,
it was pretty easy to say that they weren't surprised
that I would be attempting to do this.
This is just what Rob does.
Now, the tickets to this concert
were like 1,500 bucks a piece.
Probably lined their goal post with gold leaf or something.
Did I mention the high school had a helipad?
Clearly buying a ticket was out
so I decided to Google
some of the other premier catering companies in the area.
Now, there were like three or four companies
that the job could have gone to
and if I could find out which one actually got the contract,
I figured I could get my way in.
Now, I struck out on the first call.
They hadn't heard of the gig
so I knew it wasn't them.
Now, the second call, I asked to speak to my dad (mumbles)
in the kitchen.
They transferred me to the kitchen
and I'm talking in circles
so that they don't really know that I really
don't know anybody at this company.
After the pass of a phone,
I get one of the sous chefs on the phone
and I'm pretending to be frustrated
like I'm being transferred all around,
I can't get an answer.
I just need to know what is the catering outfit
for the private school concerts.
I held my breath and waited.
- [Chef] Yeah, it's khakis and white button down.
- Brilliant.
- [Chef] Oh, and don't forget
all the employees are to report to the local airports
and you'll be shuttled into the event.
- Double brilliant.
Okay, so once I'm in, then what?
I'll still be dressed like a caterer.
I would wear
my white shirt and my khakis
and bring a spare pair of jeans
hidden inside of an empty sparkling water bottle.
Caterers are always hurrying somewhere
or carrying a bunch of random (bleeps).
So I'd look like a caterer
running around, getting ready for the event.
But in reality,
I have change of clothes.
Okay, I feel good about this.
My friends were having a big pool party that night
which I would be skipping
but if I succeeded,
I'd be able to go back to that party
and have plenty of people to gloat to.
I'd be the (bleeps) man.
All right, so the day finally arrives.
It's worth mentioning here that my parents
were completely aware of what I was about to do.
You know, like I said, it's no surprise.
So I'm leaving the house,
my mom was all kind of excited.
She was like, you're gonna see Billy!
Only thing my stepfather has to say is,
where's the local police station
so we know where to come pick you up?
Okay, so, it was time.
It was time to start.
On my way to the private airport,
I take up the box of sparkling water,
dump 'em out in my trunk, they're all rolling around,
jeans inside, ready to go.
I pull up to the airfield, I park.
Caterers everywhere.
I get in line.
I got my box of sparkling water
waiting to get onto the next shuttle.
Just a five-minute drive down the road.
We get to the gate.
We pull in through security.
I get out of the van.
I'm not catching as much as an eye.
Caterers everywhere, blending perfectly.
I was playing the part.
This event was ginormous.
I mean, no expense spared.
They have lugged in full-sized
portable walking fridges,
giant fancy tents with glass bay windows.
They had flowers and professional lighting.
Absolutely nuts.
Oh God, wait a minute.
The concert doesn't start until dusk.
I have three hours to kill.
I needed to be fitting in
with the caterers, chefs, party planners running around
and concert goers all have bracelets.
This was only going to work
if I remained a caterer until dark
and then I would change and head out to the stage.
No one would be able to see if I had a wrist band on or not.
It was gonna be dark.
So I sat on a folding chair for quite some time
and moved my positions here.
I just looked like a caterer that was on a break.
It felt like ages!
But the sun finally started to set.
I jumped into a porta potty to change.
Before you judge me like, ew, that's gross.
One, what was I supposed to do?
And two, you should've seen this thing.
It had running water, marble countertops.
Must be nice.
I emerge with a white button down shirt
and a pair of jeans.
I would blend in perfectly with the other 1%,
but I was about 10 to 15 years younger
than every other person there.
As soon as I walk out onto the field,
I was immediately offered food and drink.
I'm like what!
I made my way to the stage
with a beer in my left hand
and a kickass steak sandwich in my right.
This is going to be awesome.
My pulse was racing.
The sun is set, the stage lights come up.
I was here, I was in.
I was in the perfect spot.
I had (bleeps) done it.
Now, if you think this story is done,
the craziest part is about to happen.
Within minutes, I was able to budge my way through
and now I am standing right at the foot of the stage,
six feet from Billy.
For the next two hours, I had the time of my life.
So like 45 minutes or so into the concert,
I couldn't tell if I was just fangirling out
or if I kept catching Billy Joel's eye.
For a minute, I was like,
oh my God, no, he knows.
He knows I'm not supposed to be here.
Then I was like, wait a minute, that's impossible.
The regular set finishes.
He plays for a damn long time, actually.
It was time for some encores.
So he obviously finishes with Piano Man.
It was 10:30 or so, on a Saturday.
The piano sounded like a carnival.
I smell like a beer.
I was fully immersed.
The song ends, the crowd goes nuts!
People are screaming more, more, more!
I'm like, he just played for three hours,
you greedy bastards.
Let the man go home.
So Billy unholsters his harmonica.
He stands up, he comes to the edge of the stage
and he's like a foot in front of me.
I'm just like staring up at him.
Takes the harmonica, he cocks his arm back
like he's gonna throw it into the crowd,
but instead, he bends down and hands it to me.
This mission was accomplished.
Now, I know some of you are watching this
and saying cool, but this is clearly fake.
And to that I say, I promise it's not fake.
See for yourself.
(jazzy instrumental music)