When I first heard about the gig a few months ago, my reaction was, "I'm there!" But thinking about it, I became conflicted about attending. I'm not a huge DC5 fan, but I do love their hits. On top of that mid-level enthusiasm, it's hard for me to attend oldies concerts these days, because they remind me of that incredible summer of 2001, when I did publicity for concerts by Dave Davies, Mark Lindsay, the Troggs, and others at the World Trade Center. (You can read my recollections of that season in an article I wrote for Fufkin.com.) As I was explaining to Perry earlier today, it's like trying to go to concerts after you experienced so many incredible shows up close on the beaches of Normandy in 1939.

I arrived at B.B. King's as soon as I was done with my Post shift, but I still missed Smith's first few songs. The tables were full, so I had to stand near the back, which was a drag.

Smith was performing "The Girl Can't Help It" when I arrived. He followed with more covers: "Blue Monday" and "Great Balls of Fire." Although his performance was passable, his voice was hoarse, and the band was a typical "classic rock"-type aggregation. I soon found myself thinking, "If I leave now, I'll have paid ten dollars a song. . . .If I leave now, I'll have paid five dollars a song," etc.

I was also feeling lonely. Although I am blessed with friends who share my interests, many of whom had asked me if I were going to the show, I wasn't able to meet up with any beforehand because of my having to come straight from work. Plus I just felt lonely period, and frumpy to boot, having not thought about getting Modded up for the concert when I was running off to work. In my t-shirt, jeans, and unstyled hair, I could have stepped out of of the cover art of that "As Seen on TV" compilation Freedom Rock.

Just as I was thinking the thoughts of loneliness alternationg with "four dollars a song," my friend Kate materialized at my elbow, and I instantly felt better thanks to her good vibes. We watched Smith together as he finally went into his DC5 catalogue, and then she pointed out that another longtime friend of mine, Michael Lynch, was sitting at a table next to the stage—easily recognizable because he was mouthing all the words! It was great to see Michael so happy and so into it.

Michael caught us staring at him and walked over to ask if I'd like to share his table. (Kate already had a seat saved for her by her friend Doug Mayer of the delightfully named Contrarians.) What an improvement! Now I could sit down and see Mike Smith's face without having to look at the video screens. Michael was amply repaying me for the time I brought him onto the side of the World Trade Center stage to witness the Troggs. By the time Smith, no longer hoarse, launched into a spot-on rendition of "Try Too Hard," I was transported.

A momentary lapse back into '50s covers with "Lawdy Miss Clawdy" gave me the opportunity to take a bathroom break. During the final strains of Smith's next song, "Because," I managed to squeeze my way back through the crowd, only to find Michael standing up and beckoning me towards the side of the stage. "I think we may be needed," he said. He had already asked me if I would dance with him should the opportunity arise (to which I'd responded with a resounding yes—I love dancing with him), so I assumed that was what he meant.

Right then, Mike Smith asked if he could have a few people from the audience join him onstage for his next number, "Bits and Pieces." I didn't know it at the time, but a friend of Michael's who'd seen Smith in Boston had tipped him off to this part of the show.

Michael waved and shouted, trying to get Smith's attention, and I pointed to Michael and yelled, "Pick him!" But Mike Smith passed us by in favor of a woman in the front row.

Then Smith looked our way again. Michael said to me, "Tell him to pick us!" I hadn't thought of that, maybe because I thought I looked pretty schlubby and didn't want to call attention to myself. I'm also a recovering exhibitionist and am consciously trying to see what it's like to not clamor for attention. But Michael said to get Smith to pick us, so I waved and shouted and—

—lo and behold, he picked us! We ran onstage, Smith gave me a kiss on the cheek [no kiss for Michael], and handed each of us a tambourine. With Michael and me standing on either side of the bass player, the band launched into the stomping beat of "Bits and Pieces." I could not believe what was happening.

I banged my tambourine and sang along (though I was unable to reach the mike) for the first verse and then realized, "What am I doing?" So I took off my cap and my outer shirt and, in my flimsy t-shirt and flared hip-hugger jeans, I FRUGGED to one of the most fruggable songs in the world.

The crowd didn't quite know what to expect when I took off my outer shirt. But when the bass player gave me an amused look as he saw me doing the Pony, I knew I'd done the right thing. Then I ponied over to Michael Lynch and we danced together. Onstage. While Mike Smith boomed "Bits and Pieces" only a few feet away. We even danced our signature dance, the Lynch (flashing one another sign-language 'L's). What a feeling.

After the song ended, Mike Smith asked each of us our name and hometown. Michael got a big response when he said he was from Long Island. Then we scrambled offstage and I felt the most wonderful adrenaline high, coupled with the realization that I FRUGGED ONSTAGE WHLE MIKE SMITH PLAYED "BITS AND PIECES." How cool is THAT?!

After Michael and I watched Smith do his last song, "Glad All Over," plus an encore, "Any Way You Want It" (the latter with Steven Van Zandt), Michael pointed out to me that, while we don't see each other very often, when we do, we always do something spectacular. And it's really true. We've had a lot of experiences enjoying legendary '60s acts at concerts—last time, back in August, it was the Hollies and the surprisingly good Joe Butler-led Lovin' Spoonful. Besides the fun of meeting the artists, we have the joy of our shared passion for what remains such a unique and special era of pop music. At times like this, I am so thankful for Michael, and for all my friends who are kindred spirits.