LEARNING TO FLY by PINK FLOYD. Story by Jim Landwehr

County Stadium, Milwaukee Wisconsin. 9/30/1987

I moved to Milwaukee, Wisconsin, in 1986 to take a new job. A year later, some guys I worked with heard that Pink Floyd was coming to County Stadium for their “A Momentary Lapse of Reason” tour. A handful of them got tickets and in my own momentary lapse of reason, I didn’t. At the time, $20 seemed like a lot, so I opted out. Money, it’s a crime.

When the day of the concert rolled around, my friends told me to come and tailgate with them at the stadium. Peter had a Winnebago that would transport them all to the stadium as a sort of house party on wheels. Because I didn’t have a ticket, I drove separately so I could leave when the concert started.

The atmosphere in the stadium parking lot was pulsing and electric. Over 60,000 tickets were sold, and Milwaukee is nothing if not known for its tailgating culture. Park the car, open the trunk, grill some food, drink some beer. It was all here and everywhere you turned, someone had ‘Floyd’ on their car stereo or boombox. I parked next to my buddy’s camper and joined the festivities. The smell of bratwurst and burgers on the grill blended with the smell of cigarettes and weed; this was Pink Floyd, after all.

After an hour and a half of revelry, my friends decided they would head in and find their seats. By this time, all the hype had me really wanting to see the show. So, in my comfortably numb state, I went looking for a ticket. After searching for 20 minutes, the music started. I heard the first notes to “Shine on You Crazy Diamond” and saw the iconic inflatable pig flying high above the stadium on its tether. Quickly, my search became more frantic.

I finally heard a guy saying, “Tickets, tickets right here.”

I wandered over to him and asked how much he wanted. He said $15.

“Nah. I’m not paying that much,” I replied.

“Okay, how about ten bucks? You gotta admit that’s a deal, man.”

Being absolutely truthful, I looked in my wallet and said, “Sorry, I only have $5.”

“Oh, I can’t take that. It’s a $20 ticket. You sure that’s all you have?” he said.

I  reached into my pocket and found two quarters. “I’ve got five fifty,” I said with a touch of drunken shame.

“Sorry dude, I can’t do it.”

Now, I’ve never been a salesman, but like I said, I really wanted to get in, so I resorted to guilt.

“The music’s playing, man …” I said, preparing to walk away.

It was clear from the look on his face, I was killing him with my poverty.

“Aw, dude, you know I really don’t want to do this, but, okay.”

“Thanks so much, man!” I handed him the fiver and the coins and took the ticket.

The band was right. Money is a gas! Sure, I had missed a few songs, but I’d heard that Pink Floyd often played for two hours, so I would catch the lion’s share of the show.

***

As I walked through the stadium tunnel, I saw the huge circular screen showing crazy imagery. David Gilmour stood playing guitar and singing “Learning to Fly,” and I had a moment. It was my favorite tune from their new album. I found my seat and what followed was an hour and a half of epic-ness.

A slice of epic that cost me $5.50.

Stereo Story 861