It is a journalistic clich? to say that rain failed to dampen the spirits of a crowd ? at a concert, at a picnic, at a wedding. The truth is actually rain does dampen the spirits at many an event.

Luckily for me and thousands of other grateful listeners at Thursday night?s 11th Annual Bermuda Music Festival, the rain which threatened all night only really dampened the finale and the push to the ferry home ? for one unlucky lady more than others.

After much begging and cajoling for media tickets, I arrived at Dockyard on Thursday night armed with a media pass and a pair of skinny jeans and a determination to see where these might take me.

My date, as ever, was late. As such, I must apologise to the opening acts, African Dance Productions and steel pan-ist Robert Symons, because I missed them.

I was there on time at the ferry, hopefully clutching my tickets but alas, we missed it by less than one minute by the time he jaunted across Albuoy?s Point.

The had sailed without us.

Grabbing the next available ferry only got us to the grounds around 8.15 p.m. for the 7.30 p.m. start event.

The set-up at Dockyard is immediately impressive with the main stage hovering over the water and facing south.

If I had looked at the festival programme a little more closely, I would have known that the media tent was immediately to the left of the stage, when you are facing the stage. But, through ignorance or cunning, I did not. So I proceeded to check out the many class-conscious divisions that make up the festival arrangement. Sadly, I was to learn that I was in the lowest class.

The area immediately in front of the stage is designated for ?reserved and premium seats? which seem to have been sold out for some time. This prime area is guarded by a diligent, purple-shirted army of volunteers, many of whom seem to take their jobs a little too seriously.

Nevertheless, my companion and I managed to gain entry with my media pass ? generally because I did not seem to be the only one who had no idea where the media tent was ? and promptly grabbed seats to enjoy local singers Steve Darrell and Wanda Ray Willis.

This duo did an admirable job of warming up the crowd for an evening of stellar entertainment that was to include the Original Manhattans and living legend Gladys Knight.

Willis and Darrell alternated vocal duties and interplayed very well. Willis delighted me by singing a decent ? if not perfect ? rendition of Alicia Keys? hit ?Karma?.

This song has become a sort of anthem for me, helping me through a horrific recent break-up, so I knew immediately the night was off to the right start.

Darrell, however, with his booming voice and energetic stage presence, really knows how to work up a crowd. Within minutes of taking the stage, he had fans on their feet cheering as he powered out songs like ?A Change is Gonna Come?.

Backed by a talented pack which included Max Maybury, Conrad Roach, Shine Hayward, Kevin Maybury, Stan Gilbert and Randy Lambert among others, Willis and Darrell then teamed again to tear through some ?Teddy and Marvin? (Pendergrass and Gaye, for the uninitiated) like ?Nothing Like the Real Thing? and ?Ain?t No Mountain High Enough?.

The results were a frenzy of appreciation from the audience and some impressed banter from emcee for the night, US comedian Steve Harvey.

Harvey praised Darrell for his ability to ?sing his a** off? before propositioning the slender and stunningly clad Willis that she ?could get a passport and a visa back at the house and never have to work a day again in her life?.

It was a good introduction to Harvey?s humour, which would soon have the crowd in stitches. The TV star and syndicated radio host of ?The Steve Harvey Morning Show? was able to zoom in on Bermuda?s idiosyncrasies and foibles quickly and exploit them for maximum comedic effect.

Sharp in his scope were Bermudians? audacious driving habits, the copious size of some of the Island?s scooter drivers and the less than well thought out plans of many a Bermuda criminal.

?How you gonna break into someone?s house when everyone knows each other,? Harvey pleaded logically.

Seemingly already well versed in and having taken to heart this nutty Island nation, Harvey seemed sincere when he added: ?When I leave I am going to have enough material for a whole new HBO special, I?ll tell you that.?

Harvey?s humorous turn was followed by a break, so we decided to test the limits of the media pass and explore the grounds.

In order for the peasants who held only $60 general tickets ? which essentially translates to side views of the stage ? to actually see the performers, a large videoscreen was erected on right hand side of the stage.

This screen was amazing effective in allowing the crowds on that side to enjoy the show, but once I checked that out, I could not envision my future there.

We swept back into the ?reserved and premium seats? where I was happily taking notes until we were asked to move because we were blocking views ? fair enough.

We managed to relocate nearby and continue our freedom of the press theme, till a bathroom break was needed. And then, after much flashing of lights and checking of tickets, and scolding, our time in the premium seating came to an abrupt end.

It was a tragic development given that main acts had yet to even approach the stage.

So much for skinny jeans.

Ever the optimist, I set my sights on a bigger and better goal ? ?The Trophy Suites?.

Four high rise, tented areas where I could see tables with linen even, surely security would at least let me take a peek.

We targeted the Tourism Suite as that most likely to be penetrated but before we could even chat with the fellow with ?the list?, a bouncer for the neighbouring ?The Foundation Suite? (sounds ominous) asked why we were lingering.

I made my plea for a peek inside ? for you, the readers, the greater public, not for myself of course ? and was told in no uncertain terms, ?No Way?, not even for a second.

?Well who is up there?? I pressed the bouncer. ?Tourism officials and celebrities,? I was told.

Tourism officials? And Celebrities? ?Celebrities,? I asked, ?you mean like the other musical acts and such??

But the conversation was over and the Original Manhattans were taking the stage and I still had no idea where the media tent was.

My date and I saw Premier Alex Scott passing on a man-of-the-people style walkabout and figured we?d jump into his slipstream, in the hopes it might lead us somewhere stately.

Mr. Scott just offered me one of his trademark smiles and told me not to work too hard.

I took that as a ?get outta the slipstream? warning and resumed my search for a place to properly enjoy the Manhattans.

It was then that my date and I stumbled on one of the hidden gems of the festival, the Onion Stage in the Victualling Yard.

It is here that local acts performed earlier in the evening, but tucked away in the food court ? where we were amazed and delighted to find sushi from Salt Rock Grill among more traditional offerings ? there were also chairs, tables and another videoscreen where we could see the Manhattans in all their glory, all in the quad of the beautifully red-backlit historic buildings.

The vibe in this section of the festival was actually the most pleasant I experienced ? although it must be noted, I never even got a glimpse at the Trophy Suites.

The crowd was swaying to the music and singing along to their ballad-heavy classics like ?Feels so Good to be Loved so Bad? and ?End of the Road?.

?Nobody begs like Ger Alston,? noted a fellow band member of the lead singer. ?Sometimes begging helps.?

I contemplated whether I would enjoy some begging ? having experienced none in recent years ? and decided, yeah, he?s right, sometimes begging helps.

As this silky, smooth quartet with their matching pastel suits and old school moves continued to belt out the love songs, the crowd was completely seduced and we had to know they were building to a heart-wrenching ending.

So, my date and I went off toward the main event again, so I could get a better gage on how the crowd was reacting to these wonderful old Romeos. With their outfits and dance moves, these fellas were surely the ?NSync of their day ? and more. They told the crowd they have been performing together for 42 years!

Just as the Manhattans were winding up their set, we found the media tent, a good side location with decent stage views.

The crowd around the main stage was in a frenzy for the Manhattans ? which many have since said was the highlight of the night. They brought the quartet back for an encore and received delivery of what many fans had been waiting for ? a flawless rendition of the killer hit ?Let?s Just Kiss and Say Goodbye?.

Ever the gentlemen, they offered a final classic ? ?Shining Star?, and left the stage to a standing and hooting ovation.

The always stunning Catherine Zeta-Jones then swept past the media tent in a gorgeous long silk number to make her way up to introduce the main attraction ? the inimitable Gladys Knight.

?I am so proud to call this my home,? the actress said, before adding that ?Midnight Train to Georgia? was her favourite song and had played at her wedding.

As Gladys made her majestic entrance, I took the opportunity to check out the other occupants of the media tent ? none of whom I recognised as actual local media, although admittedly many were sporting impressive cameras.

My date informed me I have been desk-bound as an editor for too long now and I am simply out of the loop but nevertheless we made some inquiries and soon met a nice guy from Green magazine. Cool, we thought, maybe they are trying to make the festival environmentally friendly.

But he informed us that The Green magazine is actually a golfing magazine and that ?that guy Ewart Brown is a big golfer?.

As Gladys Knight started belting out the hits, I confessed to another person I presumed to be overseas media, I did not know all her songs but thought she was amazing.

Admittedly, he was quite cute and I was borderline just chatting him up for kicks. He introduced himself to me as ?Dr. Ian? which I found odd and I later learned that he had wandered down from the upper class perch of the ?Trophy Suites? just to mix things up ? the things people do.

He also chastised me for not knowing all the glories of Gladys but I tried to plead an age defence and then concentrated on the task at hand ? enjoying her brief set.

Her voice is so compelling, you are almost disappointed when the back-up singers join in.

I was in the minority in the crowd for not knowing all her hits, many joined in on renditions of ?Neither One of Us? and ?Imagination?.

It was clear that her voice has lost some of its power, but she has lost none of her stage presence and looks wonderful (as I ascertained with the help of a photog?s powerful lens).

She told the crowd she has a long history with Bermuda that ?goes back to the 40 Thieves days?.

I am sure I was not alone in waiting expectantly for ?Midnight Train to Georgia? but just as it came up, the floods came down. It was one of those, as we say in Bermuda, ?tank rains?.

Umbrellas flared and everyone was diving for cover and it marred her classic finale.

It?s a pity, because the true loving response of the Bermuda crowd would have undoubtedly been even stronger had the rain given us any grace.

But it did not and a throng was soon off for the ferry as it continued to pour down.

The pushing to get aboard became so determined at one point that an unfortunate woman actually fell into the water requiring a quick thinking rescue mission involving a number of men and ferry coordination. Luckily, she was plucked out wet but unharmed. In the end, we made it home, a little wetter and a lot more entertained.

If you are lucky enough to have any class of tickets for the Bermuda Musical Festival this year, be sure to enjoy it for all it is worth. Check out the Onion stage, walk around and see it as a festival, much more than just a concert.

It was a truly enjoyable evening ? even for a peasant like me with a media pass.

A great show, a great night out.