IN SEARCH OF "STING"

Many years ago I gave up purchasing tickets in advance for rock concerts.

I never knew if I was going to be in town or if I was going to be in a musical state of mind when the date arrived. Instead, what I now do is to wait for the day of the event to see if I’m in the mood for music. If so, just before show time, I drive over to the venue and usually find a single ticket (even when the event is “sold out.” This was the approach I used when I decided to see Sting perform at the Wiltern Theater in Los Angeles.

Before driving over, I spent a few minutes doing a ticket imagining ritual that has brought me an amazing amount of success.

It revolves around creating a successful scenario within which I get a great ticket for the concert. Whenever I can create this internal picture and a successful state of mind, I usually get lucky and somehow get a great ticket.

I began my success process by imagining myself driving up to the Wiltern Theater and finding an empty parking space. Next, I pictured myself going up to a well dressed man, asking him if he happened to have an extra ticket for sale, and having him say yes. I then envisioned myself buying it, walking to my seat. and seeing Sting on stage. I executed this visual ritual with so much color, vibrantcy, specificity, and assurance that I was sure I was destined for success.

I kissed my cat goodbye, got into my car, and drove over to the Wiltern Theater. Just as I arrived, someone pulled out of a parking space directly across from the venue. “So far so great,”. I thought. However, after parking my car, and walking to the theater’s entrance I was surprised to encounter a challenging reality. It turned out that there was no opening act and Sting had already started to perform. In addition, I didn’t see any frantic scalpers or latecomers who might have an extra ticket to sell.

What I did see was a futile sight. There were at least 20 people patiently waiting outside of the Will Call Window. I assumed they were still hoping that some last minute tickets would be released by the box office. However, to me they looked more like a hopeless group of fans waiting for the arrival of “Godot.”

Although the scene looked bleak, I attempted to remain calm and positive and contemplated my options. First, I could go home. Second, I could keep waiting for a latecomer or tardy scalper with a ticket. Third, I could go to the back of the Will Call Line From Hell. Fourth, I could get creative.

I chose the fourth choice and immediately began a brainstorming session with myself.

Even though all opportunities looked like dead ends, I knew I had to take some action in some direction. I decided to shake up the mix by walking around the periphery of the theater. After strolling along for awhile, I noticed a narrow path that appeared to lead to the backstage of the theater. I was surprised there weren’t any security guards protecting the walkway.

As I kept walking, I began to hear the faint sounds of music. I then noticed a long and sturdy iron staircase running up the side of the building It looked to be a huge fire escape for the balcony patrons. Making sure no one was looking, I began to climb the staircase. When I got to the first landing I could clearly hear the music as it seeped under and around two closed steel emergency doors. After discovering that they were locked, I sat down on the metal slats of the landing and listened to Sting. However, after two songs my backside was aching so much from the narrow metal slats, that I knew I had to find a better location.

I climbed down the staircase and continued along the dark path. The more I walked, the louder and clearer the music became. The path ended at two closed backstage doors; Stings voice and music were pouring through them.

Because there was a high cement wall on either side of the doors and pathway, a natural echo chamber was also being created. Sting was rocking, the music was rolling, and I was having a fine old time.

Then, in the midst of all this splendor, an idea popped into my head.

Acting upon it, I ran back to my car and got my flute. (I’ve played the flute since childhood and always carry an inexpensive one in my trunk - for musical emergencies. (If this wasn’t a musical emergency, then what was?) I then raced back to my private listening chamber.

When I arrived, I assembled my flute, figured out what key Sting was playing in (through a quick trial and error process). The cement echo chamber gave my flute a vibrant, full, and amplified sound. Could life get any better I thought?

It was at this near perfect moment that I heard the sound of many feet running down the path. I was startled when I discovered that the feet belonged to a small gang of young men. As they got closer, my heart started to race. I was so isolated in this remote spot that I could easily have been attacked without a witness in sight. As the gang got closer, in the faint light, I read the words “Atlas” printed on the “gangs” T-shirts.

I smiled and breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that Atlas was the name of an adjacent restaurant and not a dangerous street gang. I relaxed even further when I saw two of the men carrying several opened bottles of wine with some paper cups. Apparently, I had stumbled upon a secret musical hangout for Atlas busboys taking a break.

Since I had arrived first, I decided to remain bold, hold my ground, and continue to play the flute. Apparently, the audience approved because they rewarded me with my own bottle of wine and a cup. So, there I was, with a private adoring audience, sipping Merlot, and making music with a legend. No, life didn’t need to get any better than this.

Conclusion My Wiltern Theater experience provided me with three powerful lessons.

First, adaptability is often times the name of the game. If your flight plan gets interupted, start looking around and getting creative.

Second, sometimes you have to be beyond statistics, reasons, and the odds.

This may entail daring to take actions in new and unexplored directions.

Third, what at first may appear to be bad news can in the long run, turn out to be good news parading around as misfortune. In retrospect, the fact that I couldn’t get a ticket, was a blessing in disguise.

Rather than believing that something is impossible and declaring the game over and lost, sometimes what’s called for is the ability to look for other openings.

Epilogue The next day, when some skeptical friends asked whether I was able to get a ticket for the sold out concert, they weren’t at all surprised to hear the answer was no. However, they were shocked to learn that while I never did get to see Sting, I did get to jam with him.