I was walking down the street and a rock concert broke out

So I took an extended lunch break today to go get a haircut and a shave, a most relaxing ritual I treat myself to on a regular basis. As I headed back towards the subway station at 7th Avenue and 40th Street, I could hear loud screams and cheers, with occasional whoops of a police siren. I looked north up 7th and there was a large crowd of people on the west side sidewalk who seemed to be following a big truck in the middle of the street.

A closer look and I could see police on motorcycles leading the truck, and behind them jeeps and vans with still photographers, and video and film cameramen hanging off. I could also hear the faint strains of some kind of rock music. “Ok,” I’m thinking, “I’m in no hurry to go back to the office anyway. Let’s see what’s up.”

The truck was now right up on me but I was on the wrong side of the street. It was a tractor-trailer hauling a flatbed, with musicians, mic stands and speakers, and still more photographers and video crews. Whoever it was, was playing to the opposite side. So, I hurried down the block and crossed over in front of them.

By now the crowd was building in size and intensity like a tornado whipping through Kansas. Usually jaded New Yorkers were either stopped dead in their tracks staring with amazement, or jumping, screaming and running along side like an MTV audience. And that was the adults! Cops and security guards worked hard to keep them back.

Now pardon me for being stupid, over the hill and/or unmoved by pop culture, but one White rock musician looks like any other to me. I couldn’t make out who it was, although his face did seem vaguely familiar. But all around me, grown men and women in business suits were going gaga over this guy. Wonderful age we live in, picture phones and digital cameras were everywhere (except for mine, back in my briefcase at the office). One man rushed past me to a corner newsstand to buy one of those disposable ones.

A little careful evesdropping on cell phone conversations solved the mystery for me.

The band was U2, and the familiar face was lead singer Bono. (When I got back to the office, I found out they were apparently promoting the release of their new CD “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb” and a free concert this afternoon at Fulton Ferry State Park, just north of the Brooklyn Bridge.)

Once it all became clear, the whole thing seemed like a great way to break up the day. Imagine, a rock concert, with a major star, just spontaneously took over midtown Manhattan, and with absolutely no planning on my part, I got to see it. And it didn’t cost me a dime.

As they rolled passed Macy’s and Madison Square Garden–where a brotha holding a bible over his head shouted, “Idolatry! Idolatry!”–stunned shoppers, tourists, Penn Station commuters and office workers did more gawking and gagging.

Around 29th Street, a young Black couple caught up in the swell, who seemed more the Jay-Z crowd, asked me who it was. As if I’d known all along, I said with smug certainty, “Oh, that’s Bono from the group U2.” They were similarly under-impressed.

Another one of those “only in New York” moments.