You never know what will happen at Mar-a-Lago I stumbled into an Andrea Bocelli concert

Over hill and over dale I just hit the sunny trail.To Mar-a-Lago and back in 24 hours. Donald not there.

I hear he’s been a little busy.It was a birthday party. Anthony Pratt’s.He threw it for himself.

Forget buying the guy a pair of crappy sneakers or a new tie.He’s Australian.You see him in newspaper ads.

The guy takes trash — yours, mine, he’s not fussy — and his multimillion-dollar New York and everywhere mills turn that into perfect paper bags.Buy something — even a raggy sweater from Amazon — and it’ll come wrapped in a recycled paper bag from billionaire Pratt’s mills.

He’s the world’s largest privately owned in whatever-thehell you christen his business.So this weekend he threw himself a small birthday party.Maybe 300-or-more black-tie guests.

Steak.Champagne.

Outdoors.Perfect dark night.

Late.Only one lone star overhead.It was a concert.

Live.He’d hired Andrea Bocelli — who doesn’t usually do bar mitzvahs or graduation parties.

The night, still.The audience, stunned.

Nine p.m.out came Andrea Bocelli.

Black tux trousers.Maroon jacket.Understand, we’re not talking Mel Tormé here.My table included New Yorkers Francine Lefrak and Rick Friedberg.Bocelli came onto the platform escorted by his pianist and associate.

Said nothing.Took no questions.

Just sang for maybe a half hour.Also — just maybe — not that anybody’s mentioning this, but also maybe for an inch-and-a-half of C-notes.So how did such a special VIP booking happen? Morning Report delivers the latest news, videos, photos and more.

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Never miss a story.Anthony: “I was home one night, watching TV, and I see him greeted by President Trump in the Oval Office.

I thought wouldn’t it be great to have him sing at my party.”I quickly explained to Anthony that for a lot less money, maybe next year I cou...