Stronger Than Fear

Day 24, Part 2
June 4, Soldier Field Loading Dock Area

From my spot under the giant pine tree, I spied my friends Deena Dietrich and Brigitte Rebecca chatting together across the street.  I immediately felt very silly peeking from across the street, and wanted to talk to my tour friends.  So I emerged and headed to the loading dock to join them.

I was happy there, sitting with Deena, bidding Brigitte goodbye as she went on her way back to hold her spot in the GA line after just a few moments.  Other familiar followers stopped by, and we were there again in community.  It was the third time in 48 hours that I found myself hanging around outside that loading dock.   We sat and talked and just enjoyed the moment.

I got a text from Gina Cloe, a graphic designer and activist in the U2 tribe. She reached out to see if I might be willing to help with a little project she had in mind for the #strongerthanfear campaign.  I was intrigued, and we started talking it over through FB messenger.

After a little while, AJ Rankin, (whom I had encountered briefly in Seattle at the tree stage), walked out from the loading dock and headed off quickly down the sidewalk.  I popped up, and ran after him with my note for Bono.  I called out his name, and he kindly accepted my photograph with the letter hastily scribbled on the back, and he promised he would get it to Bono for me.

I felt a flush of victory as I messaged Elsha an update that our message to B-man seemed to be on its way to him.  At the same time, Gina was waiting for my response to this time sensitive opportunity she had extended to me.  She needed a photo of a group of U2 fans posed in a certain way.
 This photo needed to happen today, following yet another insane and seemingly random act of senseless violence that had happened in London last night, the news of which had broken while we were in Soldier Field waiting for the band to take the stage.  There was no end in sight to this grief, and the #strongerthanfear campaign was out to provide U2 fans with encouragement to continue to stand up for love.

This was an effort that was dear to my heart, and struck me as a spiritual counterbalance to the madness of ongoing efforts for individual face time with Bono.  All the while, my heart was skipping in my chest as I considered the strong possibility that the lead singer might receive my communication this afternoon, and my mind was addled with everything that had happened over the last 48 hours.  Regardless, I knew it was time for me to rise above my personal limitations, draw on some higher powers, so that I could do my part and be stronger than the fear I had of standing up and acting like a leader.
I told Gina I needed to take five and I crossed the street to sit on the grass and ground with some deep breaths.  I asked silently of the space inside myself for the strength to get out of my own way and be useful.

After a few moments, I messaged Gina back and said I would do my best for the campaign.  I crossed back over to the fans, still rather shaky and feeling incredibly awkward, as I put on something of a strong voice and asked the other fans awaiting the band's arrival if they would be willing to participate to help make this picture.  Most of them turned away from me, as I stood there in front of them in my velvet skater skirt and silver high tops, speaking out about the need for us to stand up to terrorism.

There were a couple of women, though, that didn't look away from my ridiculousness... and one that even nodded as I spoke.  Two of the women who had been sitting with Deena also stood up and agreed to be a part.  And so here was my first opportunity, in the moment, to stop agonizing and get organizing on U2 show day.
Before long, I had five fans arranged and photographed according to Gina' s specifications.   I sent her a couple of images, and she said she would work on it and let me know, giving gracious thanks for my help.

Whew!  I was relieved that was done.  I sat down near the barricade again, and tried to relax.  It was about 3 or 4pm by that time.  More fans were showing up in hopes of a meet and greet.  A number of those who had been present yesterday appeared, including Marcela and Paul and their friends.  Blessedly, not including the blonde bully whom I had since realized, clearly, had been an autograph hound.

In contrast to the day before, Marcela kept her distance from me when she arrived on Sunday at that loading dock.  She looked exhausted and nervous.  Now, as I write this, I understand that surely, I must have looked that way too.

U2 fans stand up for love 

Day 24: Hitting the Ground in U2opia

Day 24:  Hitting the Ground in U2opia

June 4
HI Chicago

Upon awakening Sunday morning, my body was tired and my heart was happy, until I checked my Facebook feed around 10 or 11am. At that time,  I saw a video posted that showed Bono walking out yesterday evening to Marcela, in the spot I had left 90 minutes previously, upon her suggestion that if he hadn't come out by 4pm, he wouldn't be coming out at all.  Still, there she remained, at 5:30pm, waiting in that very place and insistently calling to him "HI Bono!" repeatedly, as he walked right up to the spot where I had been and began to chat with the line of fans.  It seemed that she quieted only when he took her hand.
I felt like someone I thought of as a friend had tricked me and stolen my stash.  If I had been a cartoon, steam would have been coming out of my ears.

In the midst of that rage, I got it.  This was the response of a frustrated addict, seeing someone else get what they had wanted.  Or maybe a toddler, seeing a girl steal her favorite toy.  I zinged a few sharp, pointed comments at her through Facebook once I stopped seeing completely red.

Blessedly, at my current age of 40, I had come to understand that the things that bother me the most about other people show me the unhealed,weakened aspects of myself.  I remembered hearing in the rooms of recovery, and even prior to my entrance to those rooms, the saying "you spot it, you got it!".  Was the Universe winking at me, being that my new acquaintance Marcela not only had the same name as me, but that she was also serving as my mirror today!?  If I was going to be angry with her, wasn't I really only being angry with myself? Surely, to be honest, in past decades, I had at some point behaved selfishly in relation to other fans in order to advance my own purpose of contact with Bono.    I felt, in this experience, and those ego driven moments in my past, where I had been the offending party, the dark side of U2 fandom: wherein we turn against each other, reaching and pushing against each other, because we really can't get enough "of that lovey dovey stuff" that we can feel welling up from within whenever the members of U2 come into our immediate view.

So there I was, exactly 18 months free of my substances of abuse, and ironically, still caught up in the frequency of addiction.

I didn't want to be a part of it anymore.   I didn't want to go back and sit against the barricade again today.  There was a lovely lakeside right next to the venue where I knew I might spend a beautiful day soaking up the sun and the wind.  That's where I could go, I told myself as I got dressed to head back out into the city.

Before I had spotted the offending video in my Facebook feed, I had spoken with Elsha about what had happened the day before, and shared that I wasn't sure about sitting around waiting for the band today; that I wouldn't be willing to stay there long if it were to turn into a pressure cooker as it had the day before.  Elsha and I agreed that it would be okay to write a note for the singer, to give to one of the bodyguards or techs, to let Bono know that she was available through my phone today if he would like to video chat with her.  I penned a message to the star on the back of a picture I had of Bono and me meeting in years past.  Then I went out and found an Uber to take me back down toward the lake and the loading dock.

When the uber pulled up near near stadium, I was again dressed up (like a car crash?) in my velvet skater skirt, my silver high tops, blue galaxy leggings, and one of the Dream Out Loud Film crew t-shirts that Dave the filmmaker had given me the day before.  I figured some people I might know might be hanging around the loading dock already, and I didn't want to be seen.  I hopped out of the car a block away, crossed the street to get within eyeshot, and peeked to see who was there, as I crouched  under the canopy of a giant pine tree.