Dear Stew, Gord-o and Andy,
First, let me start with an apology.
I know that Florida seems like it has a lot going for it - great weather, nice beaches. I mean, seriously, who wouldn't love 360 days of sun each year? But, as you probably discovered on a Wednesday night a few weeks ago, the thing that really makes Florida unbearable isn't the heat or the hurricanes - it's the people.
I'm sorry that people didn't seem excited to be there - it had no reflection on the night. But more on that later... I think that the attitude of the people can be summed up by my experience after the show. My husband and I decided to wait out the traffic by having a drink at the hotel next to the arena: we found a table, sat down and waited for a waitress. No such luck - no waitresses. After making my way to the massive bar and seeing that there were only two female bartenders working the hoards of people who had the same idea we did, I took my place and reminded myself to be patient. And, for 20 minutes I waited amongst drunk guys who, while sloshing their jack and coke all over my white Ann Taylor blouse, pushed their way to the front of the bar, shouting out orders of 10 - 12 drinks each. "Oh wait - I need two more Cosmopolitans!" they'd yell at the bartender after she'd already printed their tab. Yeah, that kind of fun.
I was ignored on the bartender's first pass down the bar, but when I was ignored the second time (after waiting 20 minutes of dealing with the kind of jerks that I'm sure are present all over but who seem to come out in droves in the great Sunshine State) I had enough - we left. Too bad too because I would have given the bartender a much better tip than the 2% left by the aforementioned drunken meatheads. (I mean, seriously, who leaves a $1 tip on a $50 bar tab?) But I digress... At least now you know your audience.
But enough on the people because the show? Because the show... Ah the show.
For years I've listened to my husband wax poetic about what he'd do if the police ever got back together. As we sat in our seats that night, it was hard to believe the 'if' had become a reality.
Andy, although you might want to rethink the green in-ear monitors (they looked like big jalepenos stuck in your ear), you're still amazing. Great solos without being over done - not too short, not too long.
Stewart, you're a man after my husband's heart. When you brought out that big set of toys and ran around on the stage playing them all, you made my husband's jaw drop. Every so often I'd get an elbow nudge, "Check it out - he's playing the tympani!" my husband would exclaim.
And Sting, you could make a fortune bottling water from that fountain of youth you must have in your backyard - I know 20 year olds that don't look as good as you. Seriously, it's almost unnatural. And although you had to bring 'So Lonely' down a few steps (didn't think we'd notice, did you?), you sounded great.
Sure the set list was almost identical to the other shows you've played - so much so that my husband was accurately able to scream out the name of each song before it started but I honestly didn't care. I screamed until I lost my voice, I jumped up and down until I was soaked with sweat and I sang along to songs that brought back so many amazing memories - while also creating new memories that I'm sure I'll treasure for a long, long time.
Even better, I saw my husband in a state that - in our almost 10 years together - I've never seen. After the concert I realized that I've never seen my stoic husband so excited - not even at our own wedding. He smiled for the entire 2 hour show and was more excited than a kid at Christmas - I know this might not sound like much but, trust me, if you knew my husband you'd be rushing to check the temperature in hell.
And as for the encore - remember the rotten people - who, even in light of the amazing show that turned even my hardened husband into a singing-along, jumping-up-and-down, screaming fan, the "fans" that stood there, barely clapping or showing any emotion? They didn't leave. For the first-time in my concert-going history, I stood there in awe as not a single person left. The arena remained packed - full of people yearning for more.
By the end of the concert I was convinced that if we ever have children, we'll throw all of your names in a bucket and pull a winner. Hell, even if my kid wound up being dubbed Gordon Sting, at least I'd know he was in good company.
Wednesday, July 25, 2007
Dear Stew, Gord-o and Andy,