Patwoman VS The Police

Well, not versus. I just thought that sounded catchy.

Let me say something about The Police: Back in the eighties, when Patwoman was a 40-year-old teenager, Sting et al were the first group to really speak to me (in that way that music speaks to a person). I remember I was driving my Dodge Dart and smoking my Sobrani Black Russian cig on Hwy 13 (where the hell was I going?) and this song came on. The drummer seemed to be pushing the beat, like he couldn't stop, couldn't slow down. And the vocals. Oh my. Like he was barely restraining himself. And something in my head just went "exactly."

A while later, I met T. I tried to explain to him this obsession. But I don't think he got it. Not really. Because, for the next couple of years, whenever The Police would tour close to us, I would say things like "I would totally kill for Police tickets." and "Who do I have to sleep with to get Police tickets?" and "The only thing I really want for my birthday is Police tickets."
But we never got to go. And right after that, the group broke up.

Now, flash forward to today. And The Police are together and touring again. And it's our 23rd wedding anniversary this month. So Thursday, T and I went to Chicago to finally see The Police in concert.

Row 12 on the field.

The boys have aged some, that's true. So have I. (I think Stew coaches soccer at my kids' old middle school.) But, you know, if you shut your eyes, 23 years just drop away and your brain is going "exactly" again.

And Sting still looks good. Like, really good.

Know who else looks good? Sting's son. Fictionplane was the opening group for The Police. I confess, I hadn't heard of them. But when I saw the lead singer, I knew.

Quickly, I sent a text message to M: Google Fictionplane. Lead? She responded: Joe Sumner.

First, let me say, these guys rock. They could open for a supergroup like The Police even if they weren't blood-related. Awesome group. Very professional stage presence.

Now, let me also say, Joe Sumner... have mercy! ...this guy is fine.

Fine.

The only thing I really didn't enjoy about this concert (and it was, in no way, Sting's fault) were the dumbasses who sat in the middle of our row and got up to get beer 40 times during the concert. That's just rude, people.

Patwoman always gets the concert's supply of Maitais before the concert begins. They fit nicely under the seat, and you can drink seamlessly and with consideration for others. Because, let's face it, people. Once the music starts, it's no longer time to go wandering around. It's time to dance and sing (ee-yo-oh!) and maybe flash Sting your boobs.

LOL. Don't get excited, kids, if you're reading this. Mommy didn't flash Sting her boobs.

Not after what happened last time.