Getting “Stung” at a Sting Concert
A long time ago I gave up purchasing tickets for rock concerts. Because I never know whether or not I’m going to be in town and in a musical state of mind, I wait until the day of the event to see how I’m feeling. And, if I’m home and in the mood, I drive to the venue and always find a single ticket (even when the event is "sold out.") This was the exact approach I used when I decided to see Sting perform at the Wiltern Theater in Los Angeles many moons ago.
After arriving at the theater on Wilshire BlvFd., someone pulled out of a space directly across from the venue. "So far, so great,” I thought.
Before leaving the car, I did my usual successful visualization technique. I my mind, in vibrant colors I experienced buying a great ticket at a reasonable price, and witnessing a superstar legend.
However, after crossing the street and walking up to the ticket booth, I encountered some sobering realities. It turned out that there was no opening act and Sting already had started to perform. In addition, I didn't see any desperate scalpers or latecomers who might have an extra ticket to unload.
The only thing that I did see was a sad and futile scene. There, waiting patiently by the Will Call window, were at least 20 people. I assumed they were still hoping that some last-minute tickets would be returned or released by the producers. However, to me they resembled a hopeless line of lemmings waiting for a bus that had already left town.
Because the situation appeared bleak, I attempted to assess my options. First, I could go home. Second, I could keep waiting for a tardy scalper or a latecomer with an extra ticket. Third, I could wait on the Will Call line from hell. Or fourth, I could attempt to get more creative.
I chose the last option and began looking around for any promising signs.
Without any possibilities in sight, I decided to at least stay in motion by walking around the periphery of the theater. After strolling along a path on the side of the theater, I began to hear faint sounds of music.
I then noticed a large, high, and sturdy iron staircase running up the side of the building. It was a long fire escape for balcony patrons. Hoping no one was looking, I began climbing the stairs. By the time I arrived at the first landing, I could clearly hear that the music belonged to Sting and his amazingly unique voice and bass playing.
As I thought positive thoughts, I tried slowly to open the emergency steel doors. Not cooperating, both doors remained locked.
So, down the staircase I descended and continued along the dark pathway leading me to the back of the theater.
If there was any good news it was that the further down the walkway I traveled, the louder and clearer Sting's music was becoming. The path led me to two huge and very well-guarded opened backstage doors. Due to the two high cement walls leading from the pathway to the backstage entrance, there was a natural echo chamber for the music.
Then, acting on a passionate urge, I jogged back to my car, opened my trunk and took out my flute. (I've played the flute since childhood and always carry one in my car for musical emergencies.
(If this wasn't a musical emergency, then what was?) I then raced back to my private listening chamber.
After returning, I assembled my flute and began to play. The high cement walls gave my flute a rich and amplified sound. “This is as good as it needs to get,” I thought. Sting was rocking, the music was rolling, and I was having a fine old time.
Suddenly, in the middle of this near peak experience, I heard the sound of many feet running down the dark path. My heart began to pound. The animal in me knew I was so isolated in this dark spot that I or my wallet easily could disappear without a witness in sight.
I was startled even further when I discovered that the noisy feet belonged to a small group of young men. As the "gang" got closer, I was able to read the word Atlas printed on all of their T-shirts.
I breathed a huge sigh of relief. Atlas was the name of the adjacent restaurant and not a dangerous gang. I relaxed even further when I saw some of the young men carrying several opened bottles of wine and some paper cups.
Apparently, I had stumbled upon a secret musical hangout for Atlas busboys who were taking a break after completing the pre-concert dinner rush.
Since I had arrived first, I decided to remain calm, be brave (or stupid), and continue playing. Apparently, the Atlas "gang" approved because they rewarded me with my own 1/3 of a bottle of Merlot and a cup.
So, there I was, with an adoring audience, sipping merlot, and making music with a superstar. Wow! I thought, how could I ever have envisioned or intended such an outcome?
Epilogue
The next day, when some skeptical friends asked whether I was ever able to get a last-minute ticket, they weren't surprised when I answered “no.” However, they were shocked to learn that while I never got to see Sting, I did get to jam with him!
Conclusion
My Wiltern Theater experience provided me with some powerful lessons. First, adaptability and curiosity are oftentimes the name of the creative game – especially when encountering unexpected challenges.
Second, sometimes you have to be willing to venture away from the "maddening crowd" by moving in new, unexplored, and “outlier” directions.
Third, if you can remain calm and collected after encountering a dead end, what may appear to be bad news can turn out to be different news with new possibilities.
“Sometimes, we have to give up our plan in order to play with what’s at hand. ”
The coached summed it all up by saying, “in the final trials, you finally met-up with other brilliant Johnny’s, only they were all free of knapsacks.
