Phillip is eagerly awaiting this post

There was much rejoicing and we could finally put out the burning sacrifices when it was announced that The Police were getting back together for a reunion tour.

Playing bass apparently chisels out one's brooding cheekbones.

You see, when other innocent children of our generation were rocking out to the New Kids and Debbie Gibson and Bel Biv Devoe, Phillip was listening to his older brother's Pet Shop Boys and Michael Jackson tapes. It was during these formative years that he developed an unholy crush on the man known as Sting.

Pictured here wearing his brooding hoodie.

I've been aware of Phillip's first love since I first met him, a fact well-documented here. And before he loved Sting, he loved The Police and there was some serious pants-wetting when we heard The Police would perform at the Grammys. But bummer, someone forgot to tell TiVo and we missed it.

Apparently they broke up due to serious disagreements regarding armpit exposure.

Anyway, for about a week Phillip has been pestering me about going to see The Police when they inevitably arrive out west. He wants to see the concert in Vancouver, as ticket prices for the Seattle show are INSANE. And hey, let's take the baby to his first concert! Doesn't [insert revolting saccharine nickname] want to catch what may be his one and only glimpse of his father's true love? 

HA. Ha ha ha. We are NOT taking the baby to see The Police. The End.

I don't really have anything against Sting (unless you count the cheekbones and the general snootiness) and I actually love it when he sings the old torch songs and showtunes. We danced to his version of 'My One and Only Love' at our wedding even. And I've tagged along to many a Phillip-approved musical event- classical saxaphone, mind-numbing experimental jazz, Victor Freaking Wooten.

Which is why, when it was confirmed that our Day After Valentine's Day Date was indeed taking place at Teatro ZinZanni, Phillip earned some MAJOR brownie points. Because Teatro ZinZanni? IS MY KIND OF PLACE.

The magic takes place in a tent.

I mean, the first thing you see when you go in is a girl wearing feathers in her hair and dressed up like a Moulin Rouge dancer and she's asking you if you want your face painted. OF COURSE I WANT MY FACE PAINTED! You're directed to the bar and invited to look around the "boutique" (but I already have five feather boas) and then you're ushered into the tent and seated at your table where, if your group is small enough, you're seated with a dozen strangers at a long table and none of you have any idea what you're in for.

THIS is what you're in for.

You're served a five course dinner over three hours, with a whole bunch of circus and cabaret acts in between. And it never really stops because you can be sitting there eating your salad and that creepy guy right there will lift your hand with his spidery fingertips and ask you to dance. (Not that this happened to me, but it happened several times to the pretty blond girl at our table. Oh, to be blond!) Or someone will do a magic trick at your table or the slinky Russian girl will run her scarf over your head as she passes by.

There's a 'plot', sort of, but it's mostly a bunch of strangely (awesomely!) dressed people running around. Half of them perform stunts (like climbing up a pole, hanging onto it with just hands, and swinging yourself out so that you are perpendicular to the pole, dear GOD how did they DO THAT?) and the other half are hauling people out of the audience to help in the between-dinner skits. Oddly enough, you have time to eat. Oh, and the human doll, who was like a three-hour version of the 'We Both Reached For The Gun' Roxy-as-ventriloquist's-dummy in Chicago. If Roxy had been training as a contortionist since age 9.

Anyway, it was ten kinds of awesome and totally worth the gargantuan amount of money I know Phillip shelled out for us to go. But like he said, "I figure this is the time to do it!" Next time, however, I am wearing my red boa and false eyelashes.

Comments

[Jenn]

If I don't get to see The Police, I very well may die. The End. Ticket prices will be through the roof if they come through here, I'm sure. I'm always excited to hear that people besides me like the Pet Shop Boys!

[lee]

you didn't mention how you got to listen to the worst police song. ever.

in fact we all did. somehow, i cannot get that song out of my brain.

[Jenny Ryan]

Oh my gosh, what a FANTASTIC place!!

[Lindsay]

That place sounds so amazingly awesome. Gosh, I wanna go!

[Kate P]

For some reason I wasn't able to post yesterday. Your date sounded like fun!
I developed a crush on Sting and an obsession with all things Police when I was in high school in the early '90s. (That crush has cooled considerably. Kinda grossed out by the open marriage thing.) My best friend and I were in art classes together and she created an autobiographical hero named "The Skirted Wonder" (we had uniforms) and I was her sidekick, Sting's Luv.
Unfortunately my brother, who had a blast with me at a concert a couple years back, called me 15 minutes into the Grammys, which I thought didn't start for another 45 minutes, to ask me if The Police had played yet and I didn't know. A quick search on the internet brought up the press release saying they were the openers. We were sad!