'Keep singing, Kenny! Keep singing!'

Went to see Kenny Chesney last Saturday night at Ford Amphitheater.

What a show. What an entertainer.

I know the "hardest working" sobriquet is overused, but Chesney is that.

By the third song, his trademark sleeveless T-shirt was drenched in sweat.

Of course, the dampness from the rain downpour probably had something to do with it.

Which brings up another point.

Next time we go to Ford, we'll try for the reserved seating.

We got lawn seat tickets at the last minute when a friend's daughter couldn't go, but Saturday evening's downpour turned our area into slop.

People traipsing through our vicinity much of the night didn't help.

We stayed a long time, but given the size of that crowd we figured it'd be Tuesday before we got home.

So we took our lawn chairs down by the concession area, sat there for a few more songs and then split.

"Keep singing, Kenny! Keep singing!" I said, hoping for as big a head start as possible while we navigated our way back to the car.

I could still hear him as we drove off.