We planned on leaving for the concert by 4:30 since we would have to try to make it around Boston in rush hour traffic, which could easily take a couple of hours. My beloved but time-optimistic (read: often late) husband called at 4:30 from work. Since I am a bit of an early arrival maniac, this got my heart rate going just a tad. Then, in a little internal lecture to myself, I decided to not sweat the small stuff. Except out loud to G I promised to get really mad (issuing an anger i.o.u.) if we missed Elvis Costello.
Not to worry, guys! We got there in plenty of time (especially since I thought it started at 7. Oops.) So I ripped up the anger i.o.u. + was glad I wasn't prematurely bitter.
First priority, get sustenance. And try to peek into the VIP tent section for local celebrity sightings. No Tom Brady or weathercasters or Kennedys. Where else would they want to be, I wonder?
Next stop, the tshirt stand, where we laugh at the earplugs for sale and deliberate on a tshirt selection. I chose #7, the white one with the pink lettering. It's pleasingly retro, like I've had it for years and don't care a bit about fancy new tshirts. But, obviously, I DO care about fancy new tshirts because I paid concert prices for one. (Speaking of pleasingly retro, look at my beautiful sister Nancy who was stopped on the street in NYC for a photo blog. Cool, yes?)
Then we settled down to our seats. We were very geeky...the first ones in our section pretty much. Did I mention I'm a little particular about being early? At exactly 7:25 (as Deirdre pointed out yesterday five minutes EARLY) Elvis started. Oh, I love him. His slower ballads are my favorites. His new album is called Momofuku and G had great fun trying to say that all night. Turns out it's pronounced a little differently than you might worry.
Sting came out and joined Elvis on Allison, which was very cool (but not unexpected since I had seen the video clip already). Two great voices + it was thrill to hear them together.
Here we are waiting for the Police to come on:
(I never like these hold-the-camera-up-and-snap-yourself photos. Oh well.) And the Police set was marvelous. He's aging well, that Sting. Yoga serves him well.
Finally, this one's for you, Jackson. The quality is poor, you can't really see Sting but that WOO-HOO at the beginning? One hundred percent, enthusiastic, thrilled me.
Today my ears are ringing and I'm saying "WHAT?!" and "huh?" a lot. Maybe I should have taken the earplugs.