We chose a spot on the right of the stage where the crowd was still only 2 or 3 people deep. Too many giants for a perfect view, but I didn't really mind. We chatted about jobs, trips, Lady Gaga, and apartments past and present. The longer we talked the more cramped I felt. I stood on my tiptoes to survey the scene behind us and realized the crowed was packed in to the back wall. My sister shifted me in front of her where I could peer around the 6 foot tall, French photographer. I watched a familiar young man in a brown felt fedora with a red feather hop around the stage messing with guitars, wires, and microphones. "That's Sean Lennon," I whispered to my sister in the noisy room, "I think." She shrugged. I looked at his face and nodded. "It's definitely him," I said, "Sean Lennon."