I just returned from a conference, and to get back quicker, I decided to take the redeye. Every time I do this, I regret it because of the disrupted sleep, but there’s something about getting home sooner rather than later.
I was hoping for a whole row to myself but that wasn’t the case. As soon as I arrived at my seat, there was already a 20-year-old asleep against the window. And the middle seat was also occupied by a bookish looking woman in her 50s.
I threw my bag into the overhead bin, sat down, and accepted my fate.
After a few minutes, the woman next to me — in a very kind and unobtrusive way — inquired about my musical tastes since I was fiddling with a Spotify playlist on my phone. I told her they ran the gamut, but on this occasion I was looking for something in the realm of soft jazz since I was hoping to fall asleep.
At that moment, I came across Sting’s 1985 album, “The Dream of the Blue Turtles,” which immediately felt like the perfect choice. I turned my phone toward the woman and said, “This feels right.”
Her eyes lit up and jumped quickly from my phone screen to my face. “I love Sting!” she stated. “I mean seriously, is there a more talented and diverse artist alive today?”
I agreed with her and said this particular album was by far my favorite, but there were a few others I liked as well. She concurred, and then named a couple songs she was fond of.
I don’t know why, but at that moment, I decided to do something I’ve always thought about but never had the courage to pull off: I told a huge lie.
“I met Sting years ago,” I said with an understated tone.
Her eyes swung back around in utter disbelief. I could tell by her reaction that she was wildly interested in my story.
“Oh my god. What was he like?” she said intently.
The truth is, I’ve never met Sting. I did see him on the street years ago when I was in New York City, but that was it. The moment lasted maybe 30 seconds, just long enough for me to realize that a famous musician was standing nearby. I stared at him for a few moments and then he got into a waiting car and drove away.
“He wandered into a bar I was at,” I said to the woman.
As soon as the words came out of my mouth, the adrenaline in my body surged. “Wow, you’re really going to do this,” I thought.
“I was in New York City for a conference and I had some time to kill before my flight home. I decided to check out this little club I’d heard about in the Village. You know, one of those places that doesn’t even have a sign outside, just a door and a staircase down to the basement.”
She nodded excitedly, completely engrossed in my story.
“So, I go down there, and it’s exactly what you’d imagine—dim lighting, smoky atmosphere, a small stage with a three-piece band playing. I grabbed a drink and found a seat at the bar. I’m sitting there, enjoying the music, when suddenly, there’s a bit of a commotion at the door. I turn around to see what’s going on and in walks Sting. He was with one other guy and they came over and saddled up right next to me at the bar.”
“I would have died!” she exclaimed. “Did you speak to him?”
“I tried to play it cool, act like it wasn’t a big deal that Sting was sitting two feet away from me. The television above our heads was playing a Yankees game and he eventually asked me what the score was. I replied, then mentioned that Jeter pulled off an acrobatic play at shortstop that would likely be considered for his career highlight video.”
“No way!” she said, eyes wide and immersed.
At that point, I had had my fun, so I told her once I finished my beer, I threw $20 on the bar and told the bartender that Sting’s next drink was on me, and then walked out.
“Wow. You actually bought Sting a drink,” she said softly while rested her head back onto her seat.
I took that opportunity to slide in my earbuds and turn on my music, happy to have ended my massive lie, but also content in the fact that I gave a stranger a thrilling story to ponder.
In this week’s feature, “Blink Twice,” starring Channing Tatum, we meet another guy who likes to lie, but in his case the lies are at the expense of several beautiful young women that he’s lured to a private island.
Channing Tatum is the real deal. His good looks sometimes overshadow his acting chops, but the guy will be around forever simply because he casts an interesting allure. In this film, he’s given the chance to fully express a character that embodies a multitude of psychopathies.
Check this one out if you’re a fan of Tatum’s work or are in the mood for a bizarre psychological thriller. It’s not on Hitchcock’s level, but it’s as good as the genre gets these days.
A deceitful “B-” for “Blink Twice,” now playing in theaters everywhere.
Got a question or comment for Dom? You can email him at moviediary@att.net.
