Cleveland Concert Chaos: A Night with Billy Joel and Rod Stewart

Last weekend, I traveled to Cleveland, Ohio for what was supposed to be a fun-filled weekend for me and my traveling companion.  It didn’t turn out quite as well as we had hoped, but that’s another blog post.  The main attraction for our journey was the one and only Mr. Billy Joel who was doing a one night only show with Rod Stewart.  Now, I’ve been to a Rod Stewart show before, back in 1993 to be exact, but I’d never seen Billy Joel.  My traveling companion was, is and always will be obsessed with Billy Joel.  As a matter of fact, it was she who introduced me to him back in the summer before 4^th grade.  (Yes, I’ve known her that long.) She loaned me her copy of his Glass House album and I was hooked.  Not obsessed, mind you – just hooked.  I loved It’s Still Rock n Roll to Me.  This may surprise those of you who know me personally, because I’ve always been a fan of much heavier music than what these two gentlemen make.  I admit, my personal long-time obsession is Steven Tyler.  I had an Aerosmith poster in my room until I took it down to make room for the nursery I needed to make for my firstborn.  My husband played “in a rock n roll band”. Well, actually, he’s played in several, and now he’s in a hair metal band (Yeah – I know – I may actually be stuck in the 80’s) with guys who have become like family to us. I rarely miss a performance and chance to hang out.  I’m such a groupie!  But I digress….

I did a Google search and learned that Rod Stewart is 79 years old.  (It both, saddens and surprises me that I’ve become old enough for my musical heroes to be in their 70’s and 80’s.  My main man Steven is 76.) I didn’t know what to expect from the show, but to be honest, I wasn’t expecting very much.

So, off to The Rock and Roll Capital of the World we went. We arrived at Cleveland Browns Stadium, or Huntington Bank Field as it’s officially known, at about 6.  The concert was set to begin at seven, but these things never start on time, right? We had taken an Uber to the field as we probably would have had to park just as far away as our hotel was so we decided to leave the car in whatever nook the valet had it tucked into and treat ourselves to what we thought would be a hassle-free ride.  The police already had all the roads near the field blocked off, so we got as close as our Uber driver could get us and then got out to walk the rest of the way.  Now, as you may remember from my previous post, my traveling companion had just had two surgeries on her leg.  She was supposed to be walking with a crutch for support and, of course, the brace that she’s been sporting for almost a year now.  But, because she didn’t think there would be room for a crutch at our seats (and she was right!), she had left it back at the hotel and was hobbling along leaning on me when she had to and stopping for breaks every few steps.  For her, this walk may as well have been 10 miles.  But we were determined.  We stood in line, produced our tickets and then hobbled into the stadium.  Because we had been on the road for most of the day, neither of us had eaten very much.  Me, because I was running a bit behind getting packed due to a misplaced luggage issue, and her, I suspect, because of the excitement of seeing her idol, Billy Joel, and also the fact that she was driving. There were people everywhere, as expected, but what I was surprised at was that they were very happy to just push – and I mean PUSH – past her, several of them causing her to stumble.  These weren’t younger people, either, these folks were older than us and certainly old enough to know better.  (When did having no manners become an acceptable thing?) And, of course, it didn’t help that our section was half way around the field from the entrance they had set up.  So, it took us even longer to slowly but surely make our way around the stadium to our seating section.  We stopped once for a rest at a vendor off the beaten path right by our section and wound up buying bottles of water for 5.00 each. ($5.00!!) I playfully called it my bottle of toilet bowl water – it was labeled for the Browns and you know I bleed black and gold, right?? 

So, we finally made our way into our section.  Of course, our seats were a few rows up some stairs so we had to climb.  Once again, people were pushing all around us and those stairways are pretty narrow.  Anyways, a passerby wound up tripping me (instead of her, thankfully) and I went down, hard, on my knee on those concrete steps.  A kindly gentleman nearby got up to help me back onto my feet as my companion stood there helplessly hanging onto a railing so she wouldn’t topple over.  It turned out that this gentleman was seated at the end of our row (we had finally made it there!) and he helped me and my companion into our seats, the third and fourth seats into the row.  It turned out that my companion was seated next to his wife and we had a fun conversation with them throughout the entire evening.  Then, we were hungry, so we wound up grabbing a tray of nachos and a steak sandwich from a vendor and, for stadium food, they were pretty OK.

By this time, it was 6:45.  15 minutes to the supposed start of the concert.  Many people were nowhere near their seats and everyone seemed to be milling around. I sat there thinking – here I am – at the Home of the Browns – someplace I never really thought I’d be unless I was decked out in a Steelers jersey and screaming at the top of my lungs to cheer on the Black and Gold, but neither was happening right now.  I felt out of place, like I was somewhere I wasn’t supposed to be. (In fact, I had this feeling throughout my entire stay in Cleveland, but, once again, that’s another blog post.)  The seats were narrow and, even though I have recently lost quite a bit of weight, I still had no choice but for my thigh to be touching the thigh of the gentleman seated on my right and my traveling companion on my left.

A text message from my son snapped me out of my daze of thought and I looked down at my phone.  “6:58, this concert should be starting shortly, but it probably won’t,” I thought.  I looked around, people were still absent-mindedly roaming around and less than 25% of the seats that I could see had a butt in them.  It was still daylight, so lights weren’t a give-away and I could see absolutely no indication of the show starting anytime soon.  My thoughts drifted back to all the times when I had been promoting shows and running concerts, I was a stickler about starting on time.  My thoughts continued to drift back to a particular show I had done when a loud blast of bagpipes snapped me back to reality.  I looked at my phone – as I always say, it was seven dot dot oh oh.  And, yes, Rod Stewart’s band and backup were on the stage – (how did I not notice them sneaking out??) – so YES!  The show was going to start on time.  I leaned over to my friend and said to her, “Well, I guess Rod has picked up at least one thing as he’s gotten older, he’s right on time!  No casually late for him!  Woot woot!” 

I will tell you, however, that was the only part of Rod Stewart’s performance that reflected his age.  When he took the stage, I was totally shocked at how good he looked!  Yes, I know, he can afford all the surgery and treatments he wants, but still.  His trademark hair was on point (literally!) and he moved and danced like the years had forgotten him somehow. His voice still sounded pretty much the same and the show was very fast-paced, non-stop.  He had some young women with him who were extremely talented.  They danced, sang, and played the mandolin, the banjo, this huge medieval harp, the fiddle and danced what I can only guess were traditional Scottish dances whenever the bagpipes were heard.  I never seen the piper, I’m not sure if there was a live one there, if it was keys or if by chance a recording (although I seriously doubt the last part given the quality of the rest of the show.) 

The crowd danced and sang and had a great time for the next hour and a half.  At no time did Rod Stewart stop, sit down or anything else.  He managed to make 4 wardrobe changes in record time.  The only slow part of his show occurred when he dedicated one of his best-known later songs to the Ukraine.  He wore a yellow jacket over a blue shirt and pants.  While he was singing, photos and videos from the war-stricken Ukraine were shown on the big screen for us to view.  It was a very somber moment, but then after the song ended, he took off the yellow jacket and jumped right back into his fast-paced show.  It was amazing and, although we wanted to see Billy Joel, I was in no way anxious for Rod Stewart to give up the stage.  But, eventually he did.  Exactly one- and one-half hour – on the dot – after when he took the stage – on the dot.  There’s a lot to be said for punctuality, eh? 

So out came the stage crew to set up for The Piano Man.  People seated around us were afraid to leave their seats for fear the concert would suddenly start back up like it did with Rod Stewart.  And, so we waited.

Almost 45 minutes had passed before we watched them wheel the piano onto the stage and several more minutes before we got to see the man most of us came to see.  He did finally stroll out, in no particular hurry, and begun his show.  And, what a show it was!  I’ve seen a lot of concerts, including my all-time favorites Aerosmith and The Foo Fighters (yeah – I’m still a Dave Grohl fan.  He’s not the only famous entertainer who has experienced domestic issues while on tour and he probably won’t be the last.  I give him credit that he’s doing what he thinks is right for his family and his new child and baby-momma.  Plus, what he does in private while offstage in no way diminishes his musical prowess or is any of my business.  I could do a whole blog about that and, maybe I will, but not today.) 

Billy Joel didn’t move around very much.  I mean, how could he when he’s seated at the piano?  But I didn’t really care.  He did come out from behind it a few times to stand at the microphone.  One of my favorite parts of the evening was when he brought up several members of his supporting musicians and started singing “old time” songs and then slide into his songs with a similar tone.  The one I remember most was Barbara Ann, only because that’s my late mother’s name and I used to sing that song to her all the time.  He also began The Lion Sleeps Tonight.  It was both unexpected and refreshing for someone who doesn’t know every word to every song Billy Joel ever wrote or recorded, such as my companion, to know the words to something.  My companion NEVER doesn’t know the words to any Billy Joel tune you choose and for the entire concert she seemed to know what he was going to do.  Perhaps, because she’s seen him more times than I can count.  He took us on a little musical journey with him from back at his “beginning” until right now.  I really enjoyed it! 

Now, my traveling companion (I keep calling her that because she wishes to not be called by name in my blog), was saddened when he begun to play Piano Man because, according to her, that signifies the end of the concert.  I was shocked!  It hadn’t been as long as I would have expected a headliner with the pedigree of Billy Joel to perform and, more importantly, we hadn’t heard some of his more recent mega hits like We Didn’t Start the Fire.  But even though she was insistent that he absolutely never does encores, I was pretty sure he was going to do one that night.  I mean, I had been extremely disappointed when Rod Stewart hadn’t sung Maggie May, but I understood why when Billy Joel later brought him back onto the stage during his show and they did it together.  I suspected something else like that was going to happen.  I didn’t know what, but I was pretty sure.  The gentleman with whom I had inadvertently touched thighs throughout the entire evening and we both pretended not to notice, chimed into our conversation agreeing with my companion that Billy Joel never does encores.  Well, guess who was right?  Moi, of course. 

After The Piano Man Billy Joel simply got up, bowed, waved, and walked off the stage.  Now, I know he just finished up a stint in Vegas and, maybe that’s how they do it there, but I’ve seen enough shows to surmise that the way he left the stage was not the way a superstar as famous as he is signs of for the night in front of a stadium-sized crowd.  And, I was right.  He and his accompanying musicians came running back onstage and played another after another of his very famous songs, for almost another 40 minutes.  It was only after he left the stage then that I knew the show was over.  But, as is commonplace, the crowd (myself included) attempted to lure him back onstage again with cheers and chants but, it didn’t work.  People started heading for the exits. 

Now, going to our seats, people were trickling in at a slow pace but, such was not the case when we were trying to leave.  It was a mass exodus of a sea of humanity if I’ve ever seen one.  I suggested to my companion that we wait but she didn’t want to because we kept having to stand up to let other people through so she thought we may as well go, which we did – Straight to the restroom.  Now, lucky for me, I couldn’t bring myself to drink my plain toilet bowl water in a bottle so I just carried it.  My companion, on the other hand, had chugged hers so I stood outside and guarded the handicapped restroom door while she did her thing.  After she was done and yes, she washed her hands, we filed out the exit closest to our section (we weren’t walking all the way back around to the entrance again) and joined the throng of people leaving the concert.  We walked out past the main crowd, sat on a low wall, and pulled up “ye olde Uber” app.  When much to our dismay, did we see prices starting at 75.00 and going up well into the hundreds to go a mile from the stadium to our hotel.  Further, the wait to get the Uber was ridiculous and we’d have to walk almost back to the hotel to catch the stupid ride anyways because, you guessed it, the police had even more of the roads by the stadium blocked off than they had on the way to the concert.

On a side note, I’m so glad Pittsburgh Police don’t do that!  I guess they’re a little more used to sold-out crowds than Cleveland Police are 😉 (customary rivalry jab there, in case you didn’t pick up on it).  But, seriously, that’s probably one very good reason that people don’t go to Browns Stadium, especially disabled people and those who are inferm, as my hop-along companion was. (She knows I love her, but, that night wasn’t the time to joke and jab at her, so I choose to do it now.)  You may recall that I mentioned previously that she had not brought her crutch.  And, rightly so, because there would have been no place to put it at our seats.  We already were holding our jackets because it was supposed to get chilly.

Nobody knows better than a Steelers fan about the wind and chill coming off the water into the stadium.  But, as luck would have it, that night in Cleveland we didn’t get to experience what would have been a much-welcomed breeze.  I had brought my 80s style jean jacket with rock n roll patches sewn all over it in anticipation of the no-show chill and decided to just wear it out for the mass evacuation, even though I was already pretty warm, so I wouldn’t have to carry it.  So, disgusted and already tired, we joined the vast multitude of people who were walking from the stadium.  Neither one of us had any idea where we were going, but we dutifully went along with the crowd. 

Unfortunately for us, we had the same situation as we had experienced going into the stadium, which was people pushing past us, especially her, causing her more difficulty than she already had.  I was trying to walk ahead and use my phone’s light to see anything upon which she could twist her ankle or fall and warn her about it.  That plan didn’t work very well at all.  She was reaching out and clutching at anything of mine of which she could get a hold much of the time.   It was darn close to a stampede, for no apparent reason.  There was no danger from which to run away.  And, honestly, I wasn’t expecting the crowd of people our age and older to be moving at such a quick pace, but they were.

We finally got to a spot where we could “pull over”, let my friend catch her breath and open my Google app to get walking directions back to our hotel.  Much to my chagrin, it was another 1.1 miles from that point.  At that point, we had no choice but to walk, right along with everyone else.  So, walk we did, for what seemed like forever.  I was almost sure that Euclid Avenue kept moving further and further away the longer we walked.  I mean, shouldn’t we have been there by now?? After a while the crowds thinned out because those interested in walking very fast had long passed us by.  At one point we noticed one – and only one – rickshaw and, someone else nabbed him before we could get there.  We avidly kept a lookout the entire way back to the hotel, but another one never appeared.

(Bonus:  Side gig idea for anyone who bicycles in Cleveland – operate a rickshaw.  With all the events going on in town and the obvious policy of the police there to close down all the streets near any event, you’ll make money hand over fist.)

On our very long, slow walk back to the hotel, which took over an hour and a half at our pace, we encountered many people.  Drunk people, stupidly drunk people who were slurring and stumbling all over the place, people who though it’d be a good idea to just take their shoes off and walk in downtown Cleveland barefoot, homeless, panhandlers, loiterers, and those unfortunate souls who were out working to cull the crowd.  Most memorably, we encountered a surly police officer, who was probably perturbed that he was out directing traffic, blowing his whistle and yelling at everyone who walked past him.  I’m nobody to criticize (I am a sailor’s daughter, remember) but he was doing far more swearing than I personally felt was necessary.  My companion and I were bringing up the rear crossing the side street because she was sore and having a difficult time walking in her brace, we were both hot, tired and perturbed anyway and had given up all hope of any forthcoming solution other than hoofing it, so we weren’t going knees-to-chest.  This police officer wanted to let the cars go, so he blew his whistle at us several times, swore at us and threatened to release the cars to run us “the f***” over if she didn’t hurry up and get off the street we were trying to cross. It was frustrating, angering and humiliating all at the same time.  I guess that officer forgot about the protect and serve component of his job.  Amazingly enough, there was, of course, another officer at the next intersection also directing traffic.  She was close enough to hear what had been said to us and apologized profusely for her colleague’s conduct.  I thought that was very nice of her and that she deserved a shout out on my blog, however, I didn’t get her name nor was I able to get her photo.  But, if she’s reading this, she knows who she is and I want her to know that her kindness was refreshing and a much-welcomed break from the situation in which we found ourselves.

See – I though that Cleveland would be like Pittsburgh – I don’t know why I guess I should have known better.  (Man, am I spoiled…)  In all seriousness, rivalry aside, when you leave any event at Heinz (or Acrisure) Field, there are buses lined up, taxi cabs, Ubers and Lyfts lined up, the T (train) is right there and, of course, the very much-loved parking lot is right there at the stadium. You can quickly and easily get away from there or you can sit in your car or sit with literally anyone in the parking lot because, you can be assured, someone will still be there tailgating and most people will welcome any fan to party with them while you wait for whatever you’re waiting for.  NOT SO in Cleveland. 

So, after walking well over a mile, we finally made it back to our hotel.  I was dripping sweat and my once nicely-styled curls, were matted and yucky.  I was sore, my companion was REALLY sore and we were both exhausted.  (Maybe that’s part of Cleveland’s master plan, to exhaust you so you can’t misbehave.  If so – it worked on us spoiled Yinzers.)  We had planned on going out, which diminished into ordering dinner, but neither of us could have eaten very much at all.  We had thrown away what was left of our food back at the field because we couldn’t have carried it that far, and by this time were completely unmotivated to move off our beds.  So, we did nothing but watch some reruns of Ink Master on late-night TV.  I wound up munching some combos I had left over from the ride to town, put some Crystal Light in my toilet bowl bottled water and called it a night. Keep watch on my blog for the next day in Cleveland’s adventures and set-backs story coming soon!

Do you have a chaotic concert-going experience to share? Tell me in the comments!

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