August 22nd, 1992 - The day Pearl Jam changed my life...and put me in the hospital!

by jbalbano64 on jun 02, 2011

If you talk to anyone who knows me they'll tell you two definitive things about me. 1) I have an awesome rack, and 2) I am one of the world's biggest Pearl Jam fans...of all time....ever. I can pinpoint the exact moment that I became a full fledged Pearl Jam fanatic and my life thereafter was forever changed...I would say bettered (some, like my family, would say turned to madness). That moment was the first time I heard the live guttural voice of Eddie Vedder blasting from the Lollapalooza stage speakers in Bicentennial Park in Downtown Miami on a late balmy August afternoon in 1992. I was 14 years old and despite being a middle class half Jew/half Italian growing up in Miami, I had recently discovered my inner alternative angst-ridden teen thanks to my sister buying me a copy of Pearl Jam's Ten the year before and me fully absorbing all that amazing new sound coming out of Seattle and the Pacific Northwest music scene. I nightly dreamed of getting to see Eddie and the boys live, since even back then I was a concert crazed individual who luckily had a Dad that took me to see every band that came to South Florida. Pearl Jam finally arrived in Miami earlier in the year like in March or April and I remember dying inside because they were playing a club on South Beach that I was no where near old enough to get into. I think actual tears were shed and a feeling that I was missing out on something huge took over me that my teenage heart couldn't bare. So, when my older sister's best friend showed up at my house that summer and said she had two tickets to the traveling Lollapalooza show that Pearl Jam was headlining and that was making a stop in Downtown Miami AND that the show was ALL AGES I nearly had a heart attack. Would my sister be cool enough to let me go in her place? Would my parents be down with me going to a huge festival show downtown with just my sister's crazy BFF as my chaperone? Thankfully the answer to both was a resounding YES! Leading up to that August day I remember feeling such excitement, the likes of I hadn't felt since my Michael Jackson phase in the early 80s and getting to see the Jackson 5 Reunion show at the Dolphins Stadium wearing my red zip leather jacket and sparkly glove (but that's a story for another time). I was excited to see all the bands on that epic 1992 lineup, but really there was only one band I HAD to see and that was Pearl Jam. The week of the show I ended up getting super sick, as is just my luck. I used to have childhood asthma and would get really bad bronchitis whenever I got a cold. My mother was hyper-sensitive to my illness and since I had been hospitalized before for my wicked asthma attacks, at any sign of a cough she would go on high alert. She was already trying to put her foot down that if I was still coughing, there was NO WAY I would be going to a hot/sweaty/crowded music festival and risk getting sicker. I, however, was on a mission so I took all my meds and I placated my Mom that I was getting better every day and would be totally fine by the time the festival rolled into South Florida. This, unfortunately, was not the case. My bronchitis got really bad and I was on anti-biotics but I hid my cough well and started to fool my Mom into thinking I was well enough to go even though I knew I really wasn't and actually felt like total crap. The day of the show I fought every racking cough in my body to pretend to my Mom that I was completely cough-free and ready to go, grabbed my asthma inhaler and with all the excitement actually convinced myself I was feeling good too. I made my normally lackadaisical friend go super early so we wouldn't miss any of the bands and if you've ever been to Miami in August, then you know the dense humidity soup and intense tropical sunshine one has to endure at an outdoor show in late summer. But I did not care. Come hell or high water, hurricane, asthma attack or heat stroke...I was going to see Pearl Jam play that show. I just knew it was a once-in-a-lifetime kind of thing and there was nothing that would keep me from it. The festival was amazing, in my 14 years on the planet I had never seen anything like it and it completely solidified my love of alternative music and my soon-to-be obsession with all things alternative rock. My cough was still pretty bad but I fought through it and we made our way to the stage where Pearl Jam was going to play. I was too small and skinny to survive the mosh pit plus my friend/chaperone knew I would probably die from an asthma attack if I got anywhere near that madness, so I got as close as I could get without running the risk of mortal injury. Close enough to see Mike's crazy hammer pants, Stone's lime green shorts, Jeff's floppy hat and my beloved Eddie's iconic brown cordouroy jacket. I was in Heaven. When the set began and my ears got that first wave of glorious sound - "Even Flow" live and raw and amazing coming straight at me with such power...I was hooked. It was like I truly left my adolescent Madonna-loving, Pop music dancing self behind and became a real teenager and a real music fan. It was definitely the start to my real education on what is right and true and lasting in the world of music. And to say that I became a believer of the Power of Pearl Jam at that moment would be an understatement of the highest order. The pain in my chest from my incessant coughing, the sore throat, the tight wheezing breaths...gone. All I felt was genuine connection...to the band, to their music, their lyrics and to the thousands of people around me who were all feeling it together. I had never been so happy in my whole life and I knew no matter what, I wanted to chase that feeling from then on...for as long as I possibly could. When their set was over I felt like it had almost been a dream - the weight of it so heavy on my mind that when we walked away from the stage I started to realize that I had actually been coughing the entire time and the heat, the dust, the sweat of all those mosh pit crazies was starting to make my lungs close up - and fast. My friend started to panic because I had left my inhaler in the car, but since I was an old pro at asthma attacks and bronchitis nastiness I tried to slow it down and stay calm. But I soon realized we had to leave, there was no turning back or stopping what was happening in order to stay at the show and enjoy the rest of the festival. All I kept thinking was, "That was the best thing I have ever seen...and my Mom is going to absolutely murder me." I ended up having to call my Mom to meet us at the Emergency Room of a nearby hospital (she was less than thrilled) where I was admitted with acute bronchitis, a whopping asthma attack and put on 4 IV drips, steroids to open up my lungs and kept in-patient for 3 days. I was even admitted before some stabbing and gun shot victims because so little air was geting in by the time I got there. It was definitely one of my scarier episodes and my parents to this day think I'm a total asshole for putting myself through that for one set from one band at one show...but, in the end, to me...it was 100% worth it. I may have almost died to get my very first close encounter with my favorite band of all time, but had I not had that experience, 20 years of my life would have probably shifted in a different direction. I might not be the avid music fan, concert-goer, new band seeker and all around tunes junkie I am today...and that would be a damn shame. Yeah, I would have saved myself a trip to the hospital and a lot of grief from my family...but I never would have that Lollapalooza memory - that epic moment etched into my brain for all time...the genesis grain of when my favorite thing in the world became a band that would end up being there through every phase and facet of my life. And I wouldn't trade that for anything. I will always think of Lollapalooza with such a reverence and a fondness and be grateful for that crazy night. I try to go to the new version of the fest in Chicago as often as is possible and it may not be those glory days in 1992 and it may not quite be the same vibe as when the festival traveled to your town and gave you those singular monumental experiences...but it is still a history-making collaboration of important artists and I thank Perry Ferrell and all who help make it possibly every year for keeping it alive for those of us who have such a connection to it. I will continue to love and support Lolla forever..for giving me that night with Pearl Jam and helping to shape the rest of my life.

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