My love affair began when I was fourteen. It was not supposed to be. Back then, Bon Jovi fans did not match their Polo socks to their Polo shirts. It was not supposed to last. Some fifteen years, seven or so albums, and eight shows later, I no longer match my socks to my shirts.
So when, an outdoor general admissions Bon Jovi concert was announced, Hubby thought, for sure, that my enthousiasm for the metal hair band had reached a limit. Would I brave possible rain, crowds, line-ups, mullets, bad perms, and Montreal's crappy subway system for one more rendition of "Bad Medecine"? Hey, is there a "doctor in the house"?
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