Saturday, May 07, 2005

About last night

I went somewhere I said I'd never go. Mohegan Sun. It's a casino about an hour from my house. I didn't go to gamble, but to see Sting perform at the Mohegan Arena. My friend Heather is a huge Sting fan. No, of those crazy-like fans. Last night was the third time she'd seen him this year. She lives in Massachusetts, and when she found out he was playing in Connecticut, she convinced me it would be fun. And it was. Except for the creepy casino part. I've never been to a casino, and we had to walk through a big part of it to get to the concert. To me, it was like a giant intensive care unit. Blinking and beeping, no windows, no sense of time. In my limited travel through the gaming part, I saw 3 different people wheeling around their oxygen tanks while playing slot games. There are many things I don't like about this type of venue, mainly the crowd. And the seats. But the people watching was fabulous! The show was great, Sting played lots of old stuff, including many Police songs. Heather is also originally from the Midwest. We are sometimes a dangerously friendly combination. She wouldn't take "no" for an answer, and eventually charmed her way to the second row. We were pleasantly suprised to like the opening band, Fiction Plane. During the performance I mentioned that the lead guy looked like a young Sting, and as we watched him it became apparent that they must have the same genetic code. Sure enough, it was his kid. But no mention was ever made of the connection on stage. Image hosted by Fiction Plane New York Daily Times article on the band. When we got home, John put a framed photo of Sting (that our friend India had taken a few years ago) on Heather's pillow. She got to meet his son, and came just a few inches from Sting's very own pantleg. She went to sleep a happy woman.


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