* * *
So, vespapod and my insane roadtrip began about 2pm Saturday afternoon. What should have been a 5-hour drive turned into more like seven as we got stuck in both Jersey shore and New York City traffic jams...not fun! We staggered into our hotel just a little before 9pm, managed to eat way too much for dinner at an extremely funky polynesian restaurant right up the road, and then collapsed for the night.
We thought we had our Sunday plan all figured out. Drive into Boston (we were staying in Revere) around 10am, park the car near Fenway, trolley over to Newbury Street to meet with Highway Joe and see Andy's exhibit. Problem was, we got to Fenway to find out that none of the parking garages opened there until at least noon! (I'm boggled...we may not do much right in Philly but at least you can park your car 24 hours a day in most places!) So that meant trying to find street parking around Newbury Street...
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!!!!!!!!
*headdesk* *flail* *scream* *flail*
I think after nearly a half-hour of driving around and getting honked at for not knowing what the hell we were doing, we found a spot a few streets away and scrambled over.
On the way up Newbury Street to the gallery, I spot a fellow wearing one of the Vancouver Police show t-shirts. We make eye contact--or does he spy my tube socks?--and after a brief conversation it turns out we've conversed a few times on tpt.com. At this point Highway Joe spies us all and Takeshi, our new friend on the street, promises to stop by the fan gathering later that afternoon.
It's too early to go in the gallery and I'm not hungry enough to want to spend $50 a person for brunch at the gallery's own overly-chic bistro. A block away we instead find an Au Bon Pain for a light bite. We linger until about ten of noon and head back over to the gallery. There are a couple other Police fans waiting to get in as well.
I have Andy's book (thanks vespapod), but it was definitely interesting to see the prints done up on a larger size as well as seeing which images Andy had picked for the exhibit. There were lots of small details I noticed that had escaped me looking at just the book, and certain images certainly became more powerful when presented on such a scale. If you have a chance to see the exhibit, please do so. I was very, very tempted by one print in particular (the self-portrait in the roadside mirror on Montserrat), but was good given I reasoned I could use that money to buy more concert tickets instead.
Priorities and all of that.
We still had about four hours to go until we wanted to show up at the Cask & Flagon, but it was past noon so we hoped we could at least park near Fenway now. Success! From there it was a hot but not too long walk to the Isabella Stewart Gardner Museum, which is a fabulous reproduction of a Venetian palazzo in the heart of the city. The venue as well as the collection was quite impressive, even if, as one visitor commented to us, they tended to have a lot of "B-grade paintings by A-level artists, and A-level paintings by B-grade artists." As often is the case with me these days, I was most entranced by some of the primitive religious tempera paintings and some 17th century portraits.
But enough high culture. After two hours in the museum I was finally getting really hungry and in need of liquid refreshment too. We trekked back outside and made our way to the Cask & Flagon for the tpt.com-organized get-together. We found the table(s) in the back of the room, though somehow the amount of space reserved had dwindled considering the 40-50 or so folks that had RSVPed on the board beforehand! But we ran into Takeshi and his friends again, who were more than gracious to give up their seats to us as we needed some FOOD along with our alcohol!
Things sort of all blurred up for a while after that. Skip dashed in so I got the flag, but then he had to run out to get his ticket for the night. mtobinjones and an old Cambridge friend of mine, Frank, arrived to get their tickets from me. The next thing I know I'm deep into my third bourbon & coke and being asked if I'd like to step outside and be interviewed for a little unofficial documentary on Police fans on the road this summer--and when have I ever turned down an opportunity to babble on-screen, particularly when a little lubricated?
It's about 5:45pm and the streets are starting to get rowdy. We find a somewhat quiet spot behind some street vendors to tell the story of the flag for their documentary. It goes well, even if a creepy vendor dude was hovering off camera giving us the scariest looks. vespapod runs astray hunting down a local freebie paper with a big Police special (one copy for us, one for Dietmar, natch.) We reconvene and fight the gathering herds to get to the gates, after figuring out how the hell we're going to try to find each other after the show. vespa and I are headed to the front of the floor, Highway Joe & Frank are in the stands, so it's there we part company and hope for the best later.
I'm stopped by someone along the way who recognizes me from my headbanging glory at the Whisky a Go Go. Oh dear. :blush:
We find our 3rd row seats--holy crap!--even if they are at a bit of a severe angle to the stage, it looks like we should be darn well all right. If anyone is worried about sneaking in regular old digital cameras, don't be too nervous--the security guard in front of our section was more than happy to snap a picture of us on my camera. We tell the few other early birds around us about the flag, and then it's time for Fiction Plane.
I like the kids. They're certainly trying out some different stuff and longer jams since when I first saw them in Dallas where they seemed to stick really close to the recorded versions of the songs. There weren't a lot of people there yet but they did have a pretty good cheering section in the middle section right near us. All the while I'm watching the skies warily, as they're half-clearing and half-threatening looking. The flag's rain gear is close at hand at all times.
The place begins to fill up as it draws closer to 8:15. Around us seem a pretty mellow bunch. vespa is relieved when two pairs of shorter folk take seats in rows 1 and 2 in front of us. One drunken guy near me wants to talk about Neil Peart, but I'm in no mood. It's time to get up and stand up! I can hear the gong rumbling, but was the sweet spot missed tonight for the glorious climax? No matter--the show is only just beginning!
Every location in the stadium has pluses and minuses. Though we were very close, Stewart still seemed "farther away" than in Dallas when we had 12th row center section. But Sting was right near us and we had a great view of the three big jumbos right behind the band. I like those outdoor screens right behind them like that--it was hard to decide which to watch more, the guys in front of us or the screens where you could read the facial expressions so much clearer. Down this close the bass guitar and drum literally hit you in the chest--I even felt my arm shaking at one point and it wasn't out of excitement.
We were in the middle of our row so I was a little worried about flag-raising, not being able to duck into an aisle for it, but no one gave us any grief (I did mention this was a very mellow section, right?) Of course we saved the raises for between songs and if there were any crowd moments to flash it. I will neither confirm nor deny it may have been flashed at Sting once or twice when he came on a strut down the walkway right in front of us, but his attention seemed quite elsewhere (perhaps the boob-poppin' gal by Andy?)
In fact I was a little concerned after the first few numbers if we'd get a flag sighting at all for the night. Unlike what I remember in Philly, between songs here the lights mostly would go down completely, both on stage and in the crowd! I'd wait to raise it for a moment when we might catch Stewart glancing our direction but it seemed we had no luck. Oh well, still buzzed when vespapod noticed the cameraman getting ready to pan the audience during the "De Do Do Do" call and answers. When that red light is pointing your way (not Roxanne's), be ready! I'd start creeping it up from waist to chin level, and if I caught a flash of green on the jumbotron then it would go up full mast! Frank said after the show that from clear into the grandstands you could see the light shining through the back of the flag, lighting it up in a brilliant flash of green.
Oh, so anyway, the show itself. I know some folks have said it was the best one yet...I'm still thinking Philly maybe has the edge musically to me. I'm not sure the band sounded *tired*, but some moments that were just transcendent in Philly -- like "When the World..." and "Driven to Tears", just didn't feel quite as sharp, and I'd put it mostly to Andy's solos not ripping through me as hard as they did in Philly. That said, "Bed's Too Big Without You" jelled the best of the three versions I've heard in person so far, with what felt like a longer, most interesting jam section. "King of Pain" hit me as well--actually any song with Stewart on the percussion rack is an easy highlight for me. And for whatever reason, "Truth Hits Everybody" was my emotional moment of the night. Maybe it was the truth hitting ME once more of what I was having the chance to witness after so many years of wishing for it to happen...
"Can't Stand Losing You" begins and Andy seems to be having some guitar issues. But they're soon into gear and as the song progresses into the first round of "e-yos" and "e-yay-os", vespapod is punching me in the arm and screaming in my earplugged ear. I'm watching Sting for a moment, dancing with the flag just at my chest level, and vespa's screaming that Stewart's nodding and looking for the flag! He tries to raise it (and me) up but Stew's not looking now, I don't want to be an asshat, and in the meantime we nearly tumble into the second row. Oops. The mellow crowd is finally alive with energy around us and I'm ready, and second time around we get "the look" in time! Shaking the flag like crazy and in response we get a couple solid crashes on the cymbals from Stewart (hey, it gets the message across!)
So we now we've made "contact". "Roxanne" is next, I'm kind of on too much of a flag-rush to groove into it too much. vespa comments afterwards he didn't think Sting was jamming it as magically as he did in Philly. But at the end, I know it's time for the pre-encore break so I raise that flag high. Stewart gets up and gives a direct, determined stick point! The girls around us who know the story are all cheering on and high-fiving the moment.
During the encore break, I hand vespapod the flag (with the deathstare of promised non-asshattery) and try to get my camera ready. I figure we don't have any pictures "head on" into a point so it's worth a shot! The guys come back out for a great version of "King of Pain", then "So Lonely", quickly into "Every Breath You Take", making the audience dizzy with one encore after the next. There's a quick wave out in our general direction before Stewart leaves the stage.
They don't waste much time returning for "Next to You". I love it but I can't believe the show is almost over already. How did it fly by so quickly! But we're poised and ready and screaming our heads of at the end--I'm stuck somewhere between whooping it up and desperately trying to keep an even hand and focus. Stewart waves out to the general audience, then sweeps over in our direction. vespapod's screaming my ear off, again, which is probably why it looks to me like Stewart's saying something but I can't hear it--plus I'm just giddy from "the point!" They come together for the final bows and then Stewart turns back to us with the double point while Sting's looking on rather...well, I hope it's merely puzzled and not pissed off.
I'm on one hand kicking myself for watching most of this through my camera instead of my own eyes, but then, having the even fuzzy pictures is something I'll be able to hold onto for a long time to come. The lights come up, we're trying to come back to earth as the again mellow crowd is trying to get the hell out. Takeshi bombards us in excitement over how good the show was. I get a last picture of him with several other fans we'd been talking to before the start of the show. We're herded out to the street in our daze, and of course on the exact opposite side of the park that we need to be at.
We push through the crowd slowly, passing truck after truck already being loaded with equipment bound for Hartford. We pass an open club door to hear the sound of Fallout, the Police tribute band, cutting through the air! It's tempting to step inside but we've got to find Joe and Frank, and we've got a long night on the road ahead. We eventually make it back to the Cask & Flagon where they're waiting for us, and find many of the tpt.com and sc.net folks again for a few new hellos and a big round of goodbyes...at least until Wednesday night in New York.
By the time we get to our car, the lot is mostly cleared out and we may have missed the worst of the post-show crunch. It's one last round of goodbyes and vespa and I are on the road back to Philly, hoping to get home by 4-5am if we're lucky. Once we're out of the worst of the city roads, I send a round of texts out to the "crew" because I know you guys are all about instant gratification. That's when I get Skip's message about the shout out and just about have a heart-attack in the car.
We burn home in about 5 hours fueled by adrenaline and late night espresso. I know I'll be trashed today no matter what and so I still don't manage to get more than two hours sleep before I'm back up on the computer, downloading my pictures and catching up with everyone else's reports.
So that was our Sunday in Fenway Park with the Police. Cheers to everyone we had the chance to meet this time around, we love you all. Amazing kudos (and strength) to Dirty Martini for organizing the flag project and getting it this far already. And of course, biggest thanks of all to Stewart for everything, for bringing us all together in the first place and making it such a delight--as always--to call myself a "fan".
