Lots of folks are very upset about not getting tickets to the big Hannah Montana concert coming to town this fall. We've had stories on our news about moms and dads who waited in line for hours before being told all the seats were gone. On Monday, I was walking the dog when a car pulled up to us, the driver rolled down the window and said "Joel, do you guys on FirstNews have any Hannah Montana tickets? And, by the way, you are planning on picking up what your dog just deposited on my lawn, right?" I didn't. I mean I didn't have any tickets. That was certainly not the first time I've been a disappointment to a viewer. Happens everyday, I suspect. While I do empathize with parents dealing with unhappy children, I have to admit I am really delighted that our kids are out of the loop as far as concerts and appearances of this type are concerned. At this point, if they want to see a particular performer, they generally set it up and pay for it on their own...and they don't do that very often, anyway. They can always enjoy the live performances I provide every Sunday night: "Joel Nichols Sings and DANCES the Hits Of Andrew Lloyd Webber!"

Still, I do remember a couple of times, many years ago, when I was in the line of fire for tickets and chances to meet a kid fave. Our older boys were big into the Power Rangers. Once, on after*words, I had the Yellow Ranger and the Pink Ranger as guests. My wife drove downtown with the boys to meet them. They did. Even sat on their laps! I thought that would have met the Power Ranger quota, but I was wrong. Not long after that, the RED RANGER visited town as part of the World of Wheels Expo. As much as the boys had enjoyed meeting Pink and Yellow, it was RED RED RED who was the major player. So, on a beautiful Saturday afternoon, there I was, standing in line...a long, long line...to meet a guy who did most of his acting in a red suit and mask. (Like Jim Flink on any given Saturday night, but that's another story.) My wonderful wife and tiny daughter walked through Bartle Hall, looking at exhibits while I stood in line with the boys. They would occasionally escape with mom...I stayed in line. After about an hour and half, we reached the stage. There was the Red Ranger. Alex and Taylor were very excited. We took a couple of pictures. Got an autograph. Then, after about a minute, it was over. When we got home, the boys put on their Power Ranger outfits and ran all over the house, fighting evil. That autographed picture hung on their bedroom wall for quite a few years. It was worth the 90 minute wait.

A few years later, when I was doing weather for Z95.7, they hosted a concert by Aaron Carter. Our daughter, Samantha, was a fan. Just Plain Dave, the station's morning star, was nice enough to get a us a couple of tickets to the big show and a chance to meet Aaron Carter in person before the show. I was a big hero to Samantha. Well, we walked onto Master Carter's bus for a short pre-show chat and a photo (which, like the Red Ranger before him, was an integral part of my daughter's wall decor for a number of years.) Then, it was time for the show. Our seats were right up front. I saw other, more experienced and savvy parents putting in their ear-plugs, and thought "Come on! Don't be so wimpy!" Well, when the show kicked off, I saw, really heard, the error of my ways. I'm sure there was music being played, but it was so loud and we were so close to the speakers, it mostly sounded like an ongoing collision between a heard of elephants, Ethel Merman and a calliope. My daughter had a ball and I had a headache. All the way home, Samantha talked about how great everything had been. I am assuming that's what she was saying because I could see her lips moving.

To this day, after those two events, I occasionally wake-up from a recurring nightmare in which I am being chased by the Red Ranger right into a large cave that suddenly lights up to reveal Aaron Carter singing at the top of his lungs. At this point, due to all the noise, I wake up. Despite this condition, both situations were worth it for the fun the kids had and the lingering memories they still talk about.

Our youngest son, Harrison, has never put his father through such a thing. His favorite show biz personality is Johnny Carson. He falls asleep watching the video tapes of old Tonight Shows. So, no long lines...no noisy concerts...no begging for tickets. Sure, we had to break him from pretending to be Ed Ames and throwing a tomahawk at his siblings but that was a small price to pay.