When I was twelve years old, in 1987, my parents got a hold of four tickets to Michael Jackson's Bad concert in Hartford, CT through family friends who were unable to attend. My parents and I, along with my younger sister went to the show. What we expected to be an incredible concert turned out to be much much more.

We were fortunate to have great seats a third of the way back in a lower section of the 15,000 person arena. My sister and I were gleefully dancing and singing along when we were approached by a man who could have easily been an offensive lineman in the NFL. He asked my mother if we (her children) would like to dance on stage with Michael. Despite our utter disbelief, she said yes and he informed us that he's be back during Billy Jean to bring us back stage.

Granted my mother was very nervous that this gentleman, despite the multiple credentials strung around his neck was simply using this as a ploy to kidnap us, or perhaps he wouldn't even bother returning... But sure enough as Billy Jean was being performed, he showed up. Despite multiple "no ma'ams" to my mothers request to join, she quietly (not all that hard) followed behind. When we reached the entrance to the backstage she realized it was legit and returned to her seat (I learned of this after-the-fact).

Once backstage we were given special credentials/passes to wear, and then brought to the other side of backstage. It was incredible to see the behind-the-scenes of such a production.

Finally we were positioned besides some steps that led up to stage left (i believe it's called). I recall one many onstage musicians playing keyboard and smiling down at us. The time had come! The song ended and Michael started up with Bad. That was our cue and we were lightly pushed (directed) up on stage.

For a little white Jewish kid from Connecticut, I am fortunate to have more rhythm than one would think, and so it didn't take long for me to find myself center stage dancing next to (and I literally mean next to) Michael. I don't recall much, but I do recall several things: the beads of sweat covering his face. His walking by me while his head turned and remained focused on me with a smile (one of warmth, enjoyment and excited passion- nothing malevolent in any sense), seeing a crowd of 15,000 people dancing and cheering, and seeing myself on the jumbotron. Once the song was over, he left the stage and I followed. Offstage, he was drinking water and toweling off. I shook his hand and introduced myself. He did the same, and commented on my dancing and said he hoped I had fun. I was reunited with my sister and the gentleman who had ushered us backstage was there to return us to our seats. I recall crowds of people calling me "little Michael Jackson"

For years, my parents tried on and off to secure the footage of the show, but we're ultimately unsuccessful and so the memory remains a memory. An incredible one at that!