Dateline Manchester, Tennessee.
Less than 2 hours into a Police reunion at the Bonarroo Festival, sensing the crowd unresponsive and his world stage presence diminished, Sting finally offered the ultimate sacrifice. Perhaps the crowd had peaked early. Pace is as important as a shade tree when trying to survive a day of mid-South heat and humidity. Regardless, Sting's offer energized the troops. They responsed by storming the ?what the f_ck stage? in hopes of extending the trippy tunes until daylight. His way lit by thousands of Zippos, the aged, age-less, rock star of Bethelem was carried aloft on a sea of hands in the direction of a very large wooden cross built by former Burning Man stage hands. To his credit, and that of his band, they never missed a beat. As the hypnotic riffs of Roxanne and the sweet smells of some kick-ass homegrown wafted over the scene, the crowd exploded as one in a super-charged, acid-drenched emotional pyre. "Dude!" one glassy-eyed fan shouted as he spewed beer over his party mates, "I think we've just witnessed the Second Coming."
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