Then it really was over. The entire band came out to the front of the stage to greet the crowd, who were in no mood to let them go.
They remained for several minuts, soaking up the adulation and returning in kind, then slowly moved off stage left.
I felt bad that I never got any good shots of Guy Fletcher during the performance. He was perfect on the organ, though it didn't stop there. If there was anything extra I could have wished for, it would have been grand for them to play 'It Never Rains'. Guy and Mark could have jammed the outro, organ and guitar. They would really have made something of that! Ah well, we can't have everything, can we?
Mark shook hands with a lucky few at the front as he followed the band out.
Postscript: Turns out, I left my credit card at Higgins, who called Sally the next day. I had an hour between meetings so ran down town to get it. There was, of course, no parking available near Higgins and I wound up leaving the car down next to the South Park restaurant, on 9th avenue. That was ok because it would make a nice walk on a pleasant day, through the park blocks and the farmer's market. I got to Higgins, retrieved the card and chatted for a few minutes with the maitre'd who recalled we had been headed for the concert the night before.
As I made my way back, in true ex-New Yorker style, I jay-walked across Salmon street between 8th and 9th, and then proceeded west on Salmon. As I crossed to the west side of 9th I looked up and there was Mark Knopfler himself having lunch at a sidewalk table outside the restaurant. Now, as any New Yorker knows, when presented with a celebrity in such a way, normal routine is to act as though nothing unusual has happened. But this was Mark Knopfler, whose music I have loved for many years. I was sorely tried by this, but stuck to my guns and kept walking. Perhaps he caught the double-take and the slight smile on my face, perhaps not. Part of me wishes I had stopped and thanked him for the fantastic show, but we haven't been properly introduced, you see, and it would have been rude. No matter that he is the greatest guitarist/singer/songwriter the world has ever seen.
So I'll file this event away with the time I almost literally bumped into Charlie Watts window-shopping outside Valentino, the day I passed within feet of Wayne Gretzky coming out of a hotel, the time I passed by Neil Young outside the Sherry Netherland, and the morning I saw Isabella Rosselini in a housecoat crossing Madison Avenue with a cup of coffee in hand.
It's what it is.