Author’s note: I wrote this a year ago and wanted to post it on my blog as a remembrance to a wonderful night with my daughter. I hope we’ll never forget.
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As I've metaphorically shouted from the rooftops for the past several weeks, my daughter and I attended the U2 concert last night.
On an impluse, I decided to take my twelve-year-old while thinking over the purchase of the tickets last June. What prompted my decision? My husband and I caught Coldplay the previous November; we found the audience fun, but incredibly tame. I guess, when Craig had no interest in U2 (whom I presumed would have an even tamer audience), I thought it would be the perfect time to initiate my daughter into the world of concerts, thankfully sans lighters and the smell of weed which were a concert staple when we were teens.
When October 13th rolled around, our only real concession to fashion was our Converse and my Gap Boyfriend jeans because my sweetie doesn’t do the fashion thing; thus we exited the house.
McDonald’s provided our quickie dinner, and I purchased a large Diet Coke, my poison of choice. After all, it’s important to stay alert when driving your precious cargo through big city traffic at dusk.
We dropped my son off at the grandparents about 6:00, posed for a picture (my daughter making her signature peace sign) and were in high spirits. Once on our way, Craig phoned to tell me to avoid 290 because there were two accidents blocking traffic on the way into town. We took off down I45, and everything was going incredibly well until we hit the parking lot called 610. We meandered and sauntered and stopped and strolled down the highway. In short, it would have been quicker to walk through the sea of red headlights (surprisingly pretty at dusk) than to continue to sit in traffic.
My incredibly quiet daughter started to wake from her book and drawing-induced coma; she commenced whining noises at about the same time as my Diet Coke-filled body…or maybe the last was me actually whimpering under my breath.
Crazy ideas kept cropping up in my head. Should we stop at the Galleria and catch a cab? Why didn't we just take a cab in the first place? In fact, why didn't we rent a limo? Are there any flares in the trunk to flag down a friendly traffic helicopter? We would just leave the Pilot by the side of the road and arrive with a flourish. A nice daydream, the latter two would never have happened, but it would have been worth good money to avoid the hurry-up-and-wait hour, also known as "rush hour" in circles where they don't sweat the truth. I ended up taking deep breaths to calm myself as we were driving. This works, by the way, as long as you don't allow yourself to hyperventilate.
Parking was a whole other adventure. It happened, we were glad and my blood pressure started to go down. That's all I'll say about that.
We arrived about 7:30, and, once we were at the right gate handing over tickets clutched tightly, we continued up to our seats. I tried, as I’ve tried since she was a toddler, to glue my daughter to my body. It’s never actually worked (no surprise), but I did have a death grip on her arm as we entered the stadium.
“If anyone gets in between us tell them you’re a minor, and that you have to stay by your parent,” I hissed while even then realizing the ridiculousness of my statement. She would never repeat that verbatim or even something resembling it to an adult. In reply, she just shrugged and looked at me. I didn’t think the statement deserved much more, so I grabbed her even tighter as we started up the escalators.
We ran to buy T-shirts which took less time than expected because I was able to whip out cash, bolted to the restroom and rushed to our seats. Muse was playing in the background. We missed most of their set; I was disappointed. I think they're pretty cool in a "we're not as original as Queen, but our music is theatrical" kind of way. The lead singer looked surprisingly alert and had this super-cool red guitar with sparkly stripes. I think he had on a white t-shirt and teal pants. I expected them to be wearing black or dark colors, so this was a pleasant surprise. I recognized the songs they were playing from my two CDs. They sounded terrific.
In fact, they played “Time is Running Out” right after we found our seats. “You will suck the life out of me…, “ I sang along. This tune makes me snicker in a way reminiscent of “Evil Woman” by ELO. Ahhhh…you just have to be in my head to understand. My Muse conclusion: They're definitely good live, and I wouldn't mind seeing them again; moreover, they had cool graphics on the screen. Clearly patriotic, they flashed the letters U.S. in red, white and blue. Then, the letters morphed into the name of the band.
We loved it!
Muse exited the stage and the lights came up. Wow! We could clearly see the set-up. It was amazing. The video screen was hanging from the center. It looked like a humongous, oval tub tapering in slightly toward the bottom. The stage lights, video screen and electronics were covered in a huge, organic-looking, four-legged creation. The structure resembled an inverted cactus with bright orange, prickly-pear type buttons attached periodically. There was a huge, silvery orange antenna thing coming out of the top with silver spheres at different points along its length. Speakers were hanging down in ranks from the inside top. They looked a bit like fangs and gave the structure an almost bug-like appearance.
On second thought, I decided it was more cactus than spider. There were only four legs after all.
The stage was a huge circle within another circle slightly separated from the main body. Two bridges spanned the gap. We would later discover the bridges moved around the stage in order to connect to the outer circle at different points. Awesome.
Then my daughter looked up and noticed the roof was off the stadium. No wonder it was a tad stuffy.
Vendors started making the rounds. One was selling cotton candy. My sweet girl wanted it, so I told her to go ask the guy how much. She just looked at me and said quietly, “Can you go and ask?”
I started to get all huffy, thought better of it, turned toward the aisle and yelled out, “How much?!” After all, moms don’t mind looking slightly obnoxious in the name of their offspring.
The guy held up four fingers. She hopped down a row and over to the aisle to pay him with her own money. I later purchased water for myself. It was five fingers. We settled in to enjoy our bounty: Blue cotton candy and water. Bliss. My daughter even let me have a couple of blue bites. I let her share half my water. I tried to stand firm, but she gave me the sad eyes treatment. Needless to say, I caved.
The waiting started. Ten minutes previously, Muse had left the stage around 8:15. It wasn’t long before the questions started. “Mom, when will it start?” issuing frequently from her mouth. As is usual with most of the questions they ask us (or so it sometimes seems), I didn’t have an answer. I was hoping 8:45 but couldn’t remember how late the concert started last November. Surely thirty minutes would be enough time to set up, right?
We continued to watch the audience, the roadies and tech people do their thing. My daughter was amazed to see some of the spot light operators ascend on some sort of boom and hang down from one of the cactus’ four legs. People continued to fill up the seats and the general admission area.
The GA area was especially interesting to me. There were no seats. People were spread out on the floor enjoying beverages of their choice and talking. Many were already packed in tight by the stage anticipating the start; moreover, the area was set-up like an outdoor concert venue. I thought it looked incredibly fun. Although, on further consideration, I wouldn’t want to keep tabs on my sweet girl down in that crowd. Shudder.
I kept checking my watch, wiggling in my seat, guarding my water, chatting with my neighbor and repeatedly saying I wasn’t sure when the concert would start to my daughter’s inquiries. Thirty minutes passed then forty minutes. It was nine o’clock. Surely it would start soon.
Suddenly, loud music started blaring from the speakers. It was an awesome cover by who knows of “Major Tom." Could it maybe be a tribute to our city? Absolutely. And it was a fun start.
The lights went down; graphics of some sort of clock with light-saber hands appeared on the screen. The crowd went wild (trite, but true). It was 9:10. Lift off.
The drummer came out first; then the “other” guitar player who sported a dark gray long-sleeved tee with a silver spider web design. Edge appeared next in a loose, plaid shirt over a tee, jeans and his signature cap. It works for him! Last, but not least…Bono jogged out onto the stage wearing black or dark gray.
The music started and the noise reverberated within our bodies as if they were playing us like the drums and instruments down on the stage. It was a freaky feeling but all part of the concert experience and soon to be part of the background.
I think they started off with “Breathe” from their latest album. I hopped up and started singing, “I wasn’t gonna buy just anyone’s cockatoo, so why would I invite a complete stranger into my home. Would you? These days are better than that…” An excellent start; I was ready to rock! I urged my daughter to get up and DANCE!
But surprisingly, I realized this wasn’t the universal case. The crowd around us wasn’t feeling it. They sat. I was wondering what was going on with this group. I started to feel self-conscious, didn’t want to block anyone’s view and, therefore, sat down. I would call them old fogies if I was that kind of person. Okay, maybe I am that kind of person. I looked around the audience, and everyone else except those up in the super nose-bleed seemed to be up and moving. Did I accidentally buy tickets in the section for the slightly comatose? Maybe this was the area dedicated to those recovering from the flu, and they just didn’t have the energy? I could speculate all night.
I decided to dance and sing in my seat and encouraged Emma to do the same. Although...it was inevitable I would hop up and start moving as soon as a new song began only to slink back down as my self-awareness loomed too great.
“Magnificent” was about the third song. I HAD to stand up and sing. Emma joined me; we bobbed our heads, clapped our hands and moved our bodies. “Magnificent” is a highly spiritual song; I wasn’t going to sit there and let moss grow when I had a chance to stand up and worship God with this incredible band. U2 is not a “Christian” band, by the way, but they compose where they’re 'at' in life which, in my opinion, has kept them relevant and relatable for decades. I think at least three of the band members are Christ-followers. This makes for some inspirational music even if you don’t get or like churchy kinds of things.
I won’t go into much more detail except to say “Beautiful Day” was a highlight of the concert for me. It’s one of my favorite U2 songs, and I think they performed it brightly and with the right spirit. And I believe it was at this point when the huge screen over the stage broke apart into smaller, hexagonal, sections and started expanding down toward the stage as if floating individually. The lights projected on the screen were varied, vibrant nature colors. It made it seem as if the whole stage structure was an alive, blooming flower.
It was truly beautiful.
My girl waited and waited for “Vertigo”. This is her favorite U2 song and she was dying to hear it performed. I kept assuring her it was coming up (before the concert, I looked at the play list on their website, and it was there). Once she recognized it, she jumped up and started clapping her hands over her head along with Bono and the rest of the crowd. Thankfully, she had loosened up considerably after a few songs and commenced the fun.
I wish I could say the same for the crowd surrounding us.
There are about a million more things upon which I could comment, but my narrative is getting pretty long as it is.
So as we reached the end of the concert, my sweet girl became tired. She would lean against me as I sat and bobbed to the music. She was losing energy and didn‘t seem to care when her head would bounce against my shoulder as I kept time. Inevitably...I think around two songs from the end...she asked if we could go home. I asked her to wait.
You don’t get to see U2 in concert every day.
The band wrapped up, the crowd roared, and, of course, they came back for an encore. But my daughter persisted in her request to leave. This was irritating me; I don’t think I’ve ever left a concert early. I kept denying her request, and she continued in the same vein. We made it through the first song; then I decided it was time to put on the responsible parent hat and leave. After all, it was my decision to keep her out so late on a school night...so I should get her home and to bed.
We made our way out of the stadium, and she was stumbling around a bit. I decided it was a good thing we were leaving before the main crowd. At one point, we were having trouble figuring how to get back to the car, and I walked off in one direction not realizing she was too tired to notice and wasn’t following. Luckily, I’m programmed with Mommy GPS to track my children in my peripheral vision approximately every ten seconds or so. When she dropped off my radar, I turned around and found her standing about twenty feet behind me looking dazed. I called her over and we started on our way again.
Once in the car, she promptly curled up in a ball and fell asleep.
I was left in my thoughts to ponder our adventurous and amazing night. There were good things, funny things, irritating things, bad things, worshipful things and “glad to be alive” things. It was a microcosm of life. As Bono sings,
“Walk on, walk on
What you've got they can't deny it
Can't sell it, can't buy it
Walk on, walk on
Stay safe tonight”
We were.
Beau reve, mes amies.
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Another author's note: I've added "Beautiful Day" by U2 to my Mixpod at left.
