From the Queen of Free:
I just don't remember their music and I thought I did. Anyway, it was a mind nummer. (Is that a word?)
It was music my grandmother would have liked. Wait a minute! I am a grandmother!
I was so mad at the Washington Post. It seemed like every single day it posted a notice about the free concert by the Manhattan Transfer at the KC. What? Did it need more people to attend? And then, of all things, on Friday the Post ran a photo, the nerve, in the weekend section promoting the performance! What was it trying to do?
Whatever, the likelihood of my securing a seat grew dimmer and dimmer as the week wore on. Thank you, Washington Post!
At Foggy Bottom, the line for the shuttle to the KC was at least 60 deep one hour before show time. I was so mad at the Post.
I walked to KC, arriving at 5:15 p.m and discovered one million people had arrived just ahead of me. Not only were all the seats taken, but people were sitting on the steps at the other end of the the Millennium Stage six miles away.
The Post had mentioned KC was installing screens for the special event and that it would observe half off Happy Hour prices for alcoholic beverages until 6 p.m. N o t. On my hike I stopped to quench my thirst, and the bartender gleefully reported: "The Post got it wrong."
Looking for a seat (step seats are better than floor seats) I stopped to ask one woman sitting on the steps if she had come to hear the Manhattan Transfer from six miles away, and she said, while wiping the sweat from her brow, that she had given up walking and had just collapsed.
She pointed to some seats in the horizon at the far end of Millennium Stage, and I hailed a taxi and took off.
Sure enough, although it was 40 minutes until the free concert began, I managed to get a seat right under the facing (from six miles) stage. When the show got underway the screens worked fine, and I could hear, but hear what? Do you mean to tell me I braved all these elements and rushed to hear lacklustre music? That's what it was.
The best selections: "A Tisket, A Tasket" and "Groovin'". The female who performed "scat" stole the show, if it could be stolen. I nodded off and upon awakening, joined some others stealing away before the end.
The Crowd: 97 percent, Caucasian; Average Age (no joke): 60; Dress: Whatever plus
I just don't remember their music and I thought I did. Anyway, it was a mind nummer. (Is that a word?)
It was music my grandmother would have liked. Wait a minute! I am a grandmother!
I was so mad at the Washington Post. It seemed like every single day it posted a notice about the free concert by the Manhattan Transfer at the KC. What? Did it need more people to attend? And then, of all things, on Friday the Post ran a photo, the nerve, in the weekend section promoting the performance! What was it trying to do?
Whatever, the likelihood of my securing a seat grew dimmer and dimmer as the week wore on. Thank you, Washington Post!
At Foggy Bottom, the line for the shuttle to the KC was at least 60 deep one hour before show time. I was so mad at the Post.
I walked to KC, arriving at 5:15 p.m and discovered one million people had arrived just ahead of me. Not only were all the seats taken, but people were sitting on the steps at the other end of the the Millennium Stage six miles away.
The Post had mentioned KC was installing screens for the special event and that it would observe half off Happy Hour prices for alcoholic beverages until 6 p.m. N o t. On my hike I stopped to quench my thirst, and the bartender gleefully reported: "The Post got it wrong."
Looking for a seat (step seats are better than floor seats) I stopped to ask one woman sitting on the steps if she had come to hear the Manhattan Transfer from six miles away, and she said, while wiping the sweat from her brow, that she had given up walking and had just collapsed.
She pointed to some seats in the horizon at the far end of Millennium Stage, and I hailed a taxi and took off.
Sure enough, although it was 40 minutes until the free concert began, I managed to get a seat right under the facing (from six miles) stage. When the show got underway the screens worked fine, and I could hear, but hear what? Do you mean to tell me I braved all these elements and rushed to hear lacklustre music? That's what it was.
The best selections: "A Tisket, A Tasket" and "Groovin'". The female who performed "scat" stole the show, if it could be stolen. I nodded off and upon awakening, joined some others stealing away before the end.
The Crowd: 97 percent, Caucasian; Average Age (no joke): 60; Dress: Whatever plus
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