Dave and I scored two free (read: Sabo and Susan will be drinking on us for a few weeks) tickets to the Police concert at Citizens Bank Park last night. We spent a lot of time with a lot of white people in the 28-47 age demographic. I didn't know whether to feel young because I was at the lower end of the spectrum or whether to feel old based solely on the fact that I was at a Police concert. And enjoying myself.
Seriously, it was great. We saw your mom, and your fourth grade teacher, and a few dads with hats identifying them as little league coaches. Oh, and that lady down the street and her "friend" or her "roommate" or whatever they are calling each other these days. There were a lot of cut-off jean shorts and ripped Budweiser tees that showed a lot of midriffs. And that was just the men.
Dave and I got there when the doors opened and secured ourselves a spot behind Section 124, right behind home plate, smack in front of the stage, which was out in center field. Our $90 seats were complete nosebleed so I'm guessing we stood behind people who paid at least $150. Suckers.
The first opening band was FictionPlane. Thumbs down. It was new rock for old people. Yeah, so, um, they kinda went over pretty well there. The dads rocked out. Then, miracle of all miracles, the Fratellis came on. Bonus! I had no idea they were on the bill. I love them. You check them. They almost fill that gaping hole in my heart that Ray Davies put there decades ago. Almost. I love you Ray. The Police went on at 8:45 as scheduled and snowed us with smoke machines and totally 80's light shows and their old songs and now I'm trying my best not to sing to Roxanne in Quality Assurance about red lights and that dress.
And that Sting! Mygod, he went on for hours without stopping.
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I'm jealous. So glad you had a good time, though. Police is one of the few cassette tapes I owned back in the day.
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