Y'know, It's Hard Not To Like This, Okay - December 19, 2024

Due to Anabelle having an afternoon final the last possible day, I continued my trend of enjoying "other people's" shows at the most famous venue in this country. Rosa and I went to see Andrea Bocelli's 30th Anniversary tour the second night he was at Madison Square Garden. She had wanted to see him since before we'd met, and the timing, location and everything else had never worked out before. Because of the ticket magic she had conjured for Anabelle, we had a credit in Ticketmaster when this show was announced. 

Given that we had stumbled upon a parking garage next door for Anabelle's concert in June, where we sped in and sped out with no issues, we booked parking in the same place, expecting the same outcome. 

"Der Mench Tracht, Un Manhattan Lacht."

I monitored bridge and tunnel traffic all day. We left as early as circumstances allowed. Though there was a back up through the Lincoln Tunnel...

Because there is ALWAYS a back up through the Lincoln Tunnel,

That most direct route was still the shortest. We fought through the multiple merges, pulled onto 34th street several blocks ahead of where we needed to be, dodged some double and triple parked cars and reached the garage more than an hour before showtime.

Then one of the "triple parkers" rolled down her window and informed us they were, in fact, on line for the garage. The line itself extended around the corner behind us. This was not indicated by the garage itself as a possibility during any part of the booking or reminder process, nor by the multiple police officers we had passed directing traffic through the busy intersections. However, her information was confirmed by the way the attendants were handling the garage, using half of this entrance as an exit. For those that live in various non New York parts of the world ."driving around the block" in Manhattan is a WHOLE DIFFERENT ANIMAL than other places. Also, when that block involves 34th Street and 8th Avenue, it moves into "major project" territory. 

We battled our way slowly around the square route. Fortunately, Rosa could see far enough down 35th Street to note the other access point  (facing the Garden) to that garage was closed before we followed the GPS that way and had to go around again. I was in far from the best of moods as we navigated, mostly pissing and moaning about how our previous experience was no help and if I had any way of knowing this, we would have done something different. (Frankly, I'm not sure what that "something different" would have been, as given what happened here, the state of The City in general, and later occurrences, anything I can think of to do differently would have been worse.) Rosa worked on controlling my temper, stating there was nothing we could do about it, we were very close, and she didn't want her rare night out sullied. 

And then...

As we finally reached the garage again, a second line of cars formed where we were when we were told to go around the block. They angled to cut in, either towards our line or into the exit side. Now it was Rosa's turn to be furious and outraged, while I pointed out we had no control of how the garage could decide to change how it handled things. The two of us are excellent at taking turns at being the rational one. We rarely freak out simultaneously. 

With curtain time approaching, I pointed Rosa to the pedestrian pass through to access The Garden while she made the tickets available on my phone as well. (Feel free to insert a loud and profanity filled rant on my part about why old fashioned paper tickets are better here.) It is a wonderful thing she left our vehicle at this point. In order to allow customers to exit the garage, the attendants gestured that I needed to stop to allow two cars who had circumvented our entire line and pulled into the exit to go and park in front of me. You better believe I had quite a few gestures of my own, but I'm positive if Rosa was still in the car the Christmas decorations would not be the only red stained objects in the area.

Rosa made it in, with some delays due to several people that didn't know how to scan their tickets. She got herself a hot dog and me a pretzel (two other applicable use of the term "New York's Finest") before finding her seat. I inched my way down to the first lower level. Fortunately, this is what they do for a living, and attendants were handing out claim tickets and providing instructions down the line, allowing the cars to be left in sets of five or greater. I reached the stairwell up to street level, and realized for what was neither the first or last time on this day that I had poor timing pulling a hamstring the night before. (This phrase could equally apply to MANY times this evening, but I will only bring it up occasionally to avoid crowding.)

As we are normally quite early to any venue, it was odd being able to waltz right into Madison Square Garden with no line outside... as the other early arriving people were already in. Security was a breeze and the guard liked both the design and easy detachability of my octopus belt buckle. (Specifically selected for the Christmas season after a conversation I had with young Anabelle as the "most obvious" choice. Strange minds think alike.) I had a similar issue with folks not understanding how to scan in that Rosa did. Several people in lines throughout the night commented how unusual all the back ups were, and that they had never seen this level of problems before. My guess is the Andrea Bocelli crowd is quite a different group from the usual sporting event and rock and pop concert goers that frequent this venue. I passed the delay time comparing Lincoln versus Battery tunnel notes and comments about "always choosing the wrong line" with a fellow who had an obvious Brooklyn accent.

I found my way to the hall outside our section including much more basketball and hockey themed displays than combat sports this time. After a rapid, if much needed, bathroom stop, I looked around for merchandise and failed to find any. Asking Madison Square Garden workers was difficult... as the events of the evening fried my brain a bit and I forgot the word "merchandise." ("Pardon me, where's the...uuuuh...stuff?" was a poor start.) That hardly mattered as, once we all figured out what I was asking for, the directions they gave me led to an equal lack of success. Instead I found my way to my seat, my wife and my pretzel. (Thanx, Honey!) In spite of the larger than usual levels of chaos around our arrival, we were seated together for enough time to take in the environment and the information on the screens behind the stage before the concert began.

The evening was broken up into two acts. There were similarities. Both featured Andrea Bocelli standing on stage while his incredible voice enchanted the venue. He puts a heck of a lot into each number, therefore many of the singers who performed duets with him had solo selections in between. I kept reflecting on what kind of incredible natural high it had to be for a young singer to have Andrea Bocelli say, "Hey, I think you're good enough to sing with me at Madison Square Garden." They were all also good enough to sing alone there. This included his daughter, who - in a staggering display of what both high quality nature and nurture can do when combined- performed a solo number that filled the entire arena at the age of TWELVE!

Given that, while his performance was magnificent, it was not visual, a great deal of other things were going on as well to add to the entertainment. During certain songs there were dancers performing in ballroom or Latin styles as appropriate, as well as an aerialist impressively hanging from silks and a ring on different songs. Music was provided by the New York Philharmonic, which would have been an impressive show by itself. The Philadelphia Chorale (another group that could have held their own in the location) sang back up.

They mentioned a painter creating a portrait of Bocelli that would be auctioned off during the night for his charity. I didn't pick up on a couple of facts. A) The painting was HUGE! B) He was a "performance painter." Therefore during one song, the screen showed a little, leather clad, bald guy dancing like a loon while putting his brush to canvas.

When completed it was Andrea Bocelli on a horse (matching the poster they sold.) Rosa figured it out first, which was difficult because he painted it upside down.

Hey kids! ART!

The two acts each had different kinds of selections. Rosa got most emotional in the second half when he performed the "regular" songs she knows him for. This led to a huge amount of happiness and excitement on her part. I try to be nearby whenever that happens. I knew a fair amount of those, specifically the Christmas songs, and standards like "Moon River." (Thank you again, Mrs. Windish.) However, many I didn't know. I did recognize all the songs in the first half, where they were all taken from operas. Not counting the Mister Rogers ones, I have never seen an opera, as I am an uncultured boor. However, a lifetime of watching classic cartoons and dumb old movies have exposed me to a depth of classical music. (The Excalibur tango springs to mind.) Hearing those powerful pieces live with the voices he and the other performers had was insanely moving. 

The break between the acts led to an additional New York hot dog for my wife. (Another high quality aspect of the evening.) There was also a far more successful (now that I remembered the word "merchandise" ) request for directions to the souvenirs. Rosa is not a t-shirt fan, and got a bag, program and poster instead. 

Continuing the trend of these concert goers being different than the standard variety: folks haven't posted the set list anywhere, and therefore I can't include it in the usual manner, outside of the variable list in the program.

What that doesn't show was the encore which included, naturally, "Time to Say Good Bye." There was a song following that I didn't know, but the most surreal part was seeing Andrea Bocelli come out in a Knicks jacket and sing "New York, New York." Note to the guy behind me who started a one man kick line into my shoulder:

"Dude, take a 'surrounding area' awareness course."

[Note- Possible artistic license here- the jacket was worn during the Encore, now I'm doubting my memory as the limited setlist posted calls out "New York, New York" earlier in the night. Either way, I was kicked. No one cares. Moving on.]

Throughout the night, the conductor stayed conducting and either Andrea Bocelli's duetist (is that a word?) or a woman in a sparkly green dress who had this as her main function walked him on and off the stage. After the final encore however, the conductor walked him off stage, then back on to wave to the roars of the crowd. They repeated this about fifteen times, with the cheers justifiably increasing for each one.  

Its hard to really describe the concert, which I why I keep dancing around it, because that level of amazing skill, amplified by the venue and other performers doesn't translate well to text. "The magic of music was in staggeringly full evidence" sums it up the best I can.

Non-standard concert patterns continued when the show ended. They turned off the escalators and pointed to stairwells as the "quickest way out." Going down many square spiral flights may have been the quickest way, but was in no form or shape a friend to my pulled hamstring. 

On our way out to reach the street, two young, "too groovy to know the word 'groovy'" and highly stylish couples asked me to take their photo. I said, "Absolutely, why wouldn't I?"

After snapping the picture, one woman said, "Thank you, I just asked someone else and she said, 'no.'"  She agreed when I said, "HOW RUDE!" Then I followed up with, "They must not be from New York."

Rosa and I briefly discussed going to see the Rockefeller Center Tree. The discussion consisted of:

Me- "Its about sixteen blocks."

Rosa- "No."

Me- "Agreed."

Instead we saw one of the trees near The Garden and then walked to the parking garage. Actually, we walked away from the parking garage first. Manhattan crowds can be confusing. The trend of this experience parking next to Madison Square Garden being completely different from the show Anabelle and I went to also continued. Instead of immediately going to the window and getting the car there was a huge line. We got most of the way to the end. Rosa realized before I did... 

Well, most things really, per usual... 

But in this case it was that we were on the wrong line, since we'd paid already. Instead she grabbed the ticket from me and we went to the tiny "give in the ticket line" before standing in the huge mob. 

Rosa elected to stay back by the stand the attendants were at, instead of being coughed on by the huge mob. She was surprised at the variety of tip sizes people offered to get their cars quicker. One woman gave $60. I have enough New York blood in me to not only not be surprised, but to have had a tip in my hand with the ticket. However, it didn't get transferred in the quick switch between lines. I believe her standing there watching spooked them. Especially with me walking back and forth between looking at the cars coming out and "checking in" with her. After the $60 one, she saw the guy refuse someone else's $10 tip, and finally point her out to a co-worker and say, "Go get her car." 

I tipped the attendant as we got in.

Yes, we did leave before $60 lady. 

Well done, Rosa.

I expected to make the right out of the previously closed 35th Street exit facing The Garden and shoot straight to the Lincoln Tunnel like we did last time. This is because I am a very slow learner. We got down to the point we had to turn right onto 9th Avenue. It then took us...

 

an hour and forty-five minutes to turn and go two blocks. 

In a staggering display of both ignorance and arrogance, the driver of a rental panel truck decided all six lanes from three directions trying to fit into the one lane on Ninth were stupid and he was going to drive around us. Instead he placed his large vehicle diagonally the wrong way in the middle of the intersection, making everyone's late night lives worse than those of us who squeezed along the edge of the corner and got in front of him. 

Both of our GPS's were useless this evening, indicating -as we sat there motionless- that there was a two to sixteen minute back up at the Tunnel. This was interspersed with notifications that the Lincoln Tunnel was closed due to "blockage on roadway," yet also the fastest way to go. I'm guessing one of the tubes shut down, but we never found out. Making it those two blocks finally allowed us to get out from behind other cars in the hydra head like merge, and have access to a left turn, followed by a quick right on Tenth Avenue. We had a rapid journey uptown to hop on the Henry Hudson Parkway to the George Washington Bridge (my preferred way of getting in and out of Manhattan) and then home. 

Hey, you know who is driving up 10th Avenue at One-Thirty in the morning on a weeknight?

CRAZY PEOPLE!!!!

But, DANG do they know how to drive!

We witnessed, and by necessity participated in, a near infinite amount of weaving and close calls which led to no collisions at all.

Another testament to the outstanding quality of the show is the afterglow of the performance vastly overshadowed any and all traffic problems.

Oh, and for those who don't know, the title reference.