Dylan played Saint Paul on Halloween in '78, his first Minnesota show since '65.  Tickets would've been unlikely but it hit me the night before they went on sale (at ten, limit six) that at one place the lobby off the parking ramp, outside the store proper, housed the ticket windows.  At six I drove downtown, saw a line around at least one corner, parked on the street but walked through the ramp to the elevator and pushed the button.  Bingo.

When the doors opened onto the lobby I saw three guys sitting on the floor, leaning against the opposite wall.  One said "congratulations" and another, "stay away from the door."  They'd been there several hours and knew the guard wouldn't boot us unless the line got wind of the elevator and stormed it.  A little later the watch shifted and the new one saw us, looked outside, opened the doors and let the crowd in behind us, so the elevator led to the end of the line.  I was second at one of two windows and when, at ten, the guy ahead of me asked to see the map (dozens of terminals were humming as he spoke), I leaned over his shoulder and said, "The six best seats."  The girl at the keyboard smiled, punched it twice and up came row twelve.

My brother flew from Key West for it, figured it would be worth it and it was and when he got back to Florida he ran across tickets to the last stop on the world tour, in Miami in December.  I hadn't seen Key West anyway so I went, with a friend who brought a recorder barely smaller than a breadbox but no plan for getting it inside.  In the room I remembered an article I'd read about poor women stealing hams between their knees and, running the strap through my beltloops on one side, hung it there, hidden under a trench coat, which passes at night in December even in southern Florida.  I walked funny but knew it wouldn't matter through the press at the turnstiles.

So I got Dylan's introduction to "Ballad of a Thin Man":
 
 

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