![V.I.P. Riser](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/60b3a53b830d373af74f4949/1655304415562-LH5V5FQLLTIMK94CZMAL/FullSizeRender.jpg)
V.I.P. Riser
I’m no rabid U2 fan, but I can think of worse ways to spend the last Saturday in August—when all the shrinks are in the Hamptons and anyone who’s anyone has somewhere better to be—than at a storied sports arena in the company of rock stars.
![The Talented Mr. Stench](https://images.squarespace-cdn.com/content/v1/60b3a53b830d373af74f4949/1654523316530-NO60W98HYRS3ZHC9R647/img127+2.jpg)
The Talented Mr. Stench
My first cousin, Winona Ryder — Noni to me — is engaged to Johnny Depp, and this has afforded me a weird kind of occasional close access to Johnny, a rising star who’s well on the cusp of epic hugeness. Tonight, we’ll take Manhattan.