The Call to Awaken

Night 40: JT30 from the Red Zone

A number of times I had heard Bono singing this timely lyric variation in this year's performance of "Pride": 

One boy washed up on an empty beach/ one boy never to be kissed

The emotion of this line, the grief and sadness, touched me to my core; especially now, as a mother to my own sweet three year old, tears stung my eyes.

Tonight, just outside D.C., he spoke to the crowd from his heart specifically, passionately,
"From the right, from the left, and those in between, you are welcome here tonight!
Whoever you vote for, you are welcome here tonight;
We will find common ground reaching for higher ground!"

There had been some controversy during recent dates of the North American tour around Bono's outspoken perspective on our 45th president.  This message of unity was reassuring.  I knew I stood amidst a community of varying beliefs, right next to me, all around me; we could still celebrate together.

"Pride" moved through to its close, and the crowd chanted "Oh oh oh oh" together, cheering.  As the redness of the "Streets" opening swirled through the stadium, the band stood together in a line, gazed upon the crowd, then turned back to climb the ramp to the stage.

 Bono said:
"Maybe the dream is just telling us to wake up,
Awaken the America of community and compassion,
Protest and tolerance,
The America of justice and joy.
Maybe the dream is just telling us to wake up... Awaken!"

And with this, Edge's guitar rang out in its own language beyond words, directly awakening the energetic center in my heart space.  Until the redness broke through to a bright open screen showing the road we were on, dizzyingly vast and endless, open.  The crowd roared together on this roller coaster ride down those open streets they invited us into, on their megapixel high-def-wave-voyage screen.

It was a ride, and we cruised right into "I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For", Bono observing "here we still are... here you still are!" and we were one giant fucking family singing our hearts out, rocking back and forth to Adam's steadfast solid bass line.

During "With Or Without You"  I had my antennae up to see if Brigitte, presumably down at the main stage, might take a little walk with Bono on the ramp, but it was not to be so tonight.  The screen was beautiful from this perspective.   The boom was in the way a bit, here and there, but it didn't matter.  We had it all at that corner of the tree stage, Beth and I did that night.  From the whites of their eyes to the vast, overwhelmingly gorgeous cinema of the main stage.
As "With Or Without You" peaked, Bono announced to the stadium:
"These songs belong to you now
Let them sing you!
Will you sing us, as we sing you?
Lovers of song! Lovers in song!
Sing your heart out!"

And we did.

Then, the breakdown...
"Bullet The Blue Sky"...
Settling eventually into "Running To Stand Still".

Running, the ode to the addict.  I hadn't known that's what I was until a decade or so after I first got to know this song.  Tonight, tears again...

Sweet the sin, bitter the taste in my mouth
I see seven towers but I only see one way out

Bono had been singing of the seven towers of Ballymun, the low income dwellings of North Dublin visible from his boyhood home.  For my part, I had come to realize that the seven towers of childhood had stood over me in the forms of my five older siblings plus my two parents.   Tonight, with my sisters and my brother here next to me, with my U2 family all around me,  I stood among them, feeling tall as a tower unto myself.  Knowing I always had been, I just had to find my own way to plug in to my power.

"Welcome to Side Two!" the vocalist proclaimed after side one's harmonica swan song.   Off we rocked into God's Country.  How the landscape here had changed so fast in just the last year... still, we danced on through.

The mad dancing thrill of the second side kept me bouncing around the rail again until "Exit" began, and then still captivation, anticipation of the Shadow Man's visit back out to the tree stage was all I knew.  I was fascinated with the idea of Bono's Shadow Man playing out in the backyard of the real life shadow man who now sat in The White House. 

I summoned up as much focus as I could, and filmed.  The shot is shaky especially when Shadow Man has approached... I kinda started vibrating....

https://youtu.be/LFDcdYLwCOk

After that... Mothers.  I sang El Pueblo Vencera to myself as the final chorus rang out through the stadium.

During the encore, Ultraviolet was specially marked by Bono's return to the tree stage.  There was a little girl and her father next to me on the rail.  Bono gazed at her then nodded in a sign of respect to her as he sang U2's song to women everywhere.  Her father lit up like a Christmas tree, laughing as I high fived him after he finished hugging his somewhat dazed looking little girl.

Finally the show wrapped up oddly.... appropriately, perhaps, to follow the last song tonight, which was "Vertigo".  A young man down front had a poster advertising his ability to perform a headstand...

"You better be good", said Bono, "we normally don't work with tall people or animals".

Here's the link to the whole thing:

https://youtu.be/fTo98ED8DFs

So this was the way my 40 day journey chasing the Joshua Tree across North America ended in the capitol... on the longest, loveliest day.

Sister glow (with gratitude to Tony Weier for making it possible)

Another Hit, Another Time, Another Place

By the time "The Whole of the Moon" filled the stadium, and Larry strode out on the stage I was full on blissed out.  I said to my sister, "Here comes Edge" as his guitar rang out through the crowd, and my jaw dropped when Bono came into our  view.  I managed somehow to snap some pics to capture our (slightly rear) lovely view of the band.

Zoomed in

Four-legged table

Hallelujah Here He Comes

Then, as the band flowed into New Years Day, Bono was handed a bottle of water by one of the stage crew.  After he belted out the opening "yeah yea oh oh" he drank some more, then turned to walk toward our corner of the tree stage.  He bent down, with his gaze upon my poster or license plate, and set down his bottle on the edge of the stage.  In a flash, he straightened back up and pointed at me and my sign before he turned back around to cross back to his mic.  

"Whaaaa'? Wait did that just happen?' said my brain as I turned to my sister, grinning, to see if she could confirm the reality of this perception, even as the band cranked into the first chorus of New Year's Day.  She didn't look back at me, just stood with her chin resting in her hand, above her elbow resting on the rail, seeming appropriately mesmerized by the performance unfolding in front of us.  

For some reason, any time I have any kind of interaction with Bono, even one as small as this, I experience a lasting sense of disbelief.

So I was glad to find the YouTube video and grab a couple zoomed in screenshots a couple months down the road, confirming for me what no one else could this time around.  Childish, for sure.  But, here it is.

Getting my little fix of Bono love... just can't get enough.

Then the music took me away again.  New Year's Day had me lifting off, then Bad brought tears to my eyes on this night, in gratitude for how life had shifted since I first got close to the song of an addict/co-dependant in 1992.  Still the layers peel away.  That night, I was beyond high off the show, and the (real or just imagined?) moment of recognition that had just occurred.

Day 40: Pre-Show Shenanigans

Day 40: Pre-show Shenanigans
June 20 at Fed Ex Field

Beth and I walked the sunny sidewalk to the stadium through moments that remain vivid in my memory to this day of writing, nine months later.  To be in the company of my big sister Beth on the final day of this journey was a great gift.

We found the Dream Out Loud film crew easily with directions from the lovely Amanda McCune, and joined them to shoot film under a shade tree. I sat self-consciously for my long-anticipated fan interview.  David Barry set me up for a comfortable and most enjoyable conversation.

After the interview we met Michael Wilson, a fan who was due to interview next, Phillip Roy Neal Chambers, the U2 Fan Tour ticket  guru, and we sat and pow wowwed in the Sun for awhile before Beth and I went on the stadium walkabout.  We stopped and chatted with Brigitte, and I met a new U2 friend Rhonda Apple waiting in the GA line, who I would subsequently "see" at Periscope broadcasts when the tour travelled on to Europe in July.
We circled the stadium and scoped out where the band might enter, but I wasn't feeling waiting for them today, so we went on to find the Red Zone entrance.

At about 2:30pm at the designated RZ entrance, we found 2 other fans waiting to obtain their RZ wristbands.  So we joined them.  I had a sharpie, and for the first time in my life, I played line leader and marked numbers on the hands (of any that wanted them) there before us and those that soon joined to form a line behind us.

With Philip, David, Amanda, and Michael
  Photo by Beth Weier

Lowest queue number I will ever have!

What a luxury, to enter the stadium after queuing for a mere few hours and nab what seemed to be prime rail!  I chose the corner at the Edge side of the tree stage where the Red Zone was divided from the more crowded GA rail in front of the tree stage.  Yes, I was hoping that the band might see my sign, and that I might gift someone with a few (now slightly wilted) summer solstice irises.

My friends, Sun and Joshua Tree

The best times

Across the tree stage, there was Dahna Propst... I messaged her a picture of herself across the stage and she sent me back one of me.  Soon enough, my other sister Julie and bro-in-law Tom were there using the seats I had grabbed in the presale, which I had sold them after grabbing a couple of Red Zone spots in the public onsale.  Julie texted me that she had unexpectedly run into our cousin Jennifer as she went for a pre-show snack.  There was simply love around every corner, well before the band came onstage.

And then, the techs closest to the band started walking up and down the long ramp to the tree stage.  There was Stuart Morgan, Adam's right hand man, and I managed to catch his eye and show him my license plate from my rail spot, earning a smile I remembered from 17 years ago.  And then, Dallas Schoo, a rock star himself to us long term U2ers, marched Edge's guitar down the ramp to the tree stage amidst great cheers and jubilation from the masses on the ground.  He began tossing out a pick here and there to a few lucky fans.  When he turned my direction, I waved the irises at him, and he walked right over to throw me a pick!  It fell on the ground as I returned a throw of the irises.... And he caught the flowers then stayed to make sure the local security in front of me picked up the tiny prize and gave it to me!  Oh I was buzzing then.  Dallas turned and walked back up the ramp, flowers tucked into his elbow, and when he reached main stage, he turned around to look back our way, lifted the flowers above his head, and waved  before disappearing into the substage underworld.

Dallas made sure the pick found it's way into my possession as he held those droopy irises.  (With gratitude to photographer Janice McKenzie).

All this, already, and the day hadn't even given into the dark of night yet.

Day 39-40: A Grand Madness

Day 39: A Grand Madness
June 19, Fairfax, Virginia

When I woke up on Monday morning, the Facebook U2 groups showed me that the GA line was forming near FedEx Field.  I was excited that Beth and I would be able to get close without spending so much time and energy in a parking lot near the stadium.  This was to be my first experience in the Red Zone, and although I may have been in the grips of an addicted U2er's madness when I charged the tickets to my Visa card many moons ago, I was very glad to have them on this penultimate day of my pilgrimage.

I spent the day running around Northern Virginia, pulling a few last-minute things together, including materials to make a  sign of my own to hang from the Red Zone rail, and another bouquet of three irises to take with me.

That evening, while Beth and her teenage kids kindly entertained my little one for me, I was downstairs constructing a sign, the words having been given to me by an Irish U2er I knew from Facebook.  In a chat a week prior to the DC area show, Ciaran  had shared with me a perfectly magical and moving idea for my summer solstice sign.  At the end of many hours of mad colouring and glittering, this was the finished product:

General translation of the Gaelic phrase: 
There's no place like home
Followed by this fan sentiment:
I feel at home with U2.

Day 40: Our Arrival
June 20 morning, Fairfax to FedEx Field

Beth and I packed everything up in the clear stadium safe bag and left the house to catch the Metro to the venue at about 11am.  Though we didn't have to stand in the GA line, I did have a long-awaited appointment with David Barry at 12:30pm.  I was very excited to sit down with him and share some of my U2 fan life story.

I got a bit of a head start on the storytelling on the way to the stadium. Beth asked me about the day in September 1998, when I had waited for the band outside Hanover Quay studios.  That evening, I had a letter I had written to Bono on the back of a collection of essays detailing my experience at four Popmart shows in 1997. My dear Irish friend Astrid had joined me there as moral support, and she stood by me in the rain for hours waiting for the band to emerge from their studio.  In the end they all came out one by one. Astrid captured a picture of me grinning next to The Edge, who had been so very kind and patient with me.

Hanover Quay, September 1998

The visit with Bono that night had ended, incredibly, with him graciously driving us in from the Dublin Dockland studio site to the City Centre.

I practiced telling the twenty year old story in detail to my sister on the way to the venue that day, anticipating that David Barry might like to hear it for the film as well.

When we finally exited the Metro in Landover, Maryland, we stopped to apply sunscreen as we took in the beautiful, hot summer day.  I knew the way from the Metro to the stadium, having walked it alone for U2360 in 2009.  Today, the path home to the show beckoned, as abundant joy filled my heart, and my whole being, releasing and rising off me, into this longest, loveliest day.

Day 25-38: Between Times 3 (June 5-18)

Between Times 3:  June 5-June 18
Days 25-38


Day 25:  Grateful to Ground
June 5, Chicago to Denver

On Monday I ran into Ken Mendez during checkout from HI.  We went to grab a bite to eat together and share more of our experience with each other before we went our separate ways.  As we sat down to breakfast burritos, I noticed that the café TV was turned to the news of violence in London over the weekend, and I tuned it out, annoyed.  The constant chatter of mainstream media doom speak had long since begun to feel like an involuntary fear brainwash. I wasn’t buying it anymore.
Before we parted, Ken M. and I agreed that we would surely see each other down the tour trail somewhere in the years ahead.  We embraced, and he headed to the train station as I headed to O’Hare.
Finally, the fuzz and buzz of tour energy in my head began to clear a bit as I drove out of Denver International Airport and toward the mountain vistas that were a backdrop on my way home into the city.  I was relieved to be out of the concrete jungle of Chicago, and back to my big sky mountain country.

It was a relief to see the blazing blue Bronco on my arrival back to Denver.

Day 26-35:  Pushing Through
June 6-15, Denver

Though I was glad to be home in Denver again for a minute, I was beyond exhausted.  Switching between the two worlds of single working mother in recovery and Stateside travelling U2er was losing its charm.  I was incredulous as I considered that I would be heading out less than two weeks’ time to once again cross the country by plane and see the band play The Joshua Tree album front to back.  U2 would play near the neighborhoods of my parents and three sisters in Virginia on Tuesday June 20^th, the night of the summer solstice.  I would be there, and this time my little girl would travel with me to see her grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins. My sister Beth was planning to attend her first U2 show in the Red Zone at Landover, Maryland’s Fed Ex Field with me, on the longest day of the year.

Any internal debate considering whether to go to Philadelphia on June 18 was over.  I had no desire.  I was finding this spring/summer's cap to the decades-old obsessive drive to follow the band, and that was reassuring.  
Looking forward to this trip, my focus was on the intention to make direct amends individually to my parents by taking responsibility for any damage I had done to them over my years of active addiction to marijuana and alcohol, during my upcoming face-to-face time with them.  The visit would be the first time since entering recovery that I would see my mother or visit Virginia, the location where I spent a tortured adolescence, and in fact I would stay in the very house where I had suffered such feelings of isolation over 20 years prior.  It was in that house that I had first connected consciously with U2 music in 1992, and discovered that I already had known and loved most of their back catalogue, that their music had been playing as the backdrop to my childhood and pre-teen years all along.  It was within those walls that the longest love affair of my life had begun.  My sister Beth had made that house her home in 1995.  I was ready to feel the space around me again, connected to her energy and the loving family home that she had created there.  I would even be sleeping in the same room I had once wall papered with pictures of U2.  This time, I would have my little girl sleeping there with me too.

Day 36: Flying with Grace
June 16: Denver to Dulles, Virginia

It was kind of fun travelling with my little girl on my third cross-country getaway in 40 days.  Beth picked us up from the airport and took us back to her house in Vienna, Virginia.  My other two older sisters Julie and Gini also came over that evening, and we sat around the kitchen for pizza and conversation.  At some point, I checked my phone for news of the show that was happening in Lexington, Kentucky that night.  I was delighted to see that Brigitte Rebecca had become the first fan to grace the tree stage, having been pulled up to dance and walk down the ramp from the main stage with Bono during “With Or Without You”.  Her friendly, open smile lit up the stadium and she looked adorable in a white summer dress with her gold flower in her hair.
Watching the video of my new U2 friend onstage with Bono in Kentucky, later on downstairs in the room where I had lived out my lonely teenage days, I was thrilled. As I watched, I remembered wondering during those misery days decades ago if there was any girl, anywhere in the world, who might have felt the way I did about U2… now, 25 years later, I knew her, and she was onstage with the band tonight.  Through my connection with her, part of me was onstage that night too.  It was a good feeling to find in that old familiar space of my teenage home.

Day 37:  Step Nine
June 17: Warrenton, Virginia

When I woke up on Saturday morning, I saw more exciting news on the U2 Friends Facebook feed.  David Barry the filmmaker had managed to get Elsha on video chat with Bono in Lexington!  What a relief that this had been accomplished.  I did feel a twinge of disappointment that I hadn’t been able to connect the two old friends through my phone screen, but more than that, I was relieved that any internally imposed pressure to try again in D.C. was gone.  I didn’t want to wait for Bono at the backstage entrance again on the longest day of this summer, not even for dear Elsha.  I was pleased for her and David Barry, and for Bono too, who appeared genuinely joyous in the pictures that had been taken of him holding David’s phone to speak to Elsha, and in fact, giving the phone a kiss.

Later that Saturday morning, Beth drove us out to Warrenton, Virginia, to visit my mother in her assisted living facility where she was receiving the support she needed to live with her progressing Parkinsons Disease.  When we arrived, Beth took Julie and our Dad out of her private quarters to give us some privacy for me to make my amends.  My mother seemed a little anxious as I began to read her my amends letter, and she was willing to listen when I explained that this was a part of my spiritual recovery from the disease of addiction.  
A great relief washed over us when I was done.
After I read her the letter, I hugged her, and for a moment, I caught sense of the feeling of being her little girl.  As write this six months later, my eyes mist over in the recollection of her arms around me in our first real heart-to-heart hug in decades, and I think I will never forget her voice cracking as she said, “Oh, honey…” and, thanking me, appeared to accept my words without any reservation.

As it turned out, that would be the last day this year that I saw my mother seeing me and knowing so clearly who I am, who I was, and why I was there.  Subsequently, in October, when I returned to Virginia again for my niece’s wedding, my mom’s cognition had declined dramatically, and she required a much higher level of care.  
The clock reads 3:33pm as I type this entry on December 24 of 2017.  Upon the recommendation of her doctors, last month my mother was moved into the higher acuity memory care unit of her Assisted Living Facility, and I have not yet begun to process my grief for her decline.  It’s there, waiting at the edge of my heart, for me to face it.  I celebrate the miracle that I had the chance to make my direct amends to her before she slipped any further into the disease process.  I can’t help but wonder…. had she been waiting for me?


That night, my sister Beth drove back to Vienna, Virginia, and I stayed out at my dad’s apartment in Warrenton to spend some more time with my parents and let them spend a little more time with my little daughter.  That night, Julie Grace threw a tantrum at bedtime, then slipped into a fitful sleep next to me.  Around midnight, she woke up and started screaming again, inexplicably and inconsolably.  After a while, my father came to the door and said, “We have to calm her down”.  He picked her up and gently began talking to her as he carried her out to the living room and sat in his big recliner with her.  I followed them and laid down on the couch nearby; listening as he soothed her in a soft, gentle voice I recalled from long ago.  I dozed off there, and she was mesmerized back into a quiet calm.  Soon enough, I was able to take her back to the guest bedroom and we slept through the night.  It was a magical moment to bear witness to my father being the father I remember from a  time long ago; it's a memory I will always treasure.


Day 38:  Father’s Day
June 18:  Warrenton to Vienna, Virginia

My three sisters joined me, my parents, and my daughter for some Father’s Day festivities.  Before we left his home in the afternoon, I sat down with Dad and read him my amends letter. As we embraced afterward, again, I felt relief to be done with this task of recovery for which it had taken me 18 months to prepare.  

So, as Julie Grace and I left my folks neck of the Virginia woods with my sister Beth, I was starting to get a little bit excited for the U2 concert on the docket for the day after tomorrow.  It was time to celebrate!

Free Yourself To Be Yourself

June 4, 2017 (continued)
Day 24: Soldier Field

At the loading dock entrance from about 3:30 to 5:30pm, there was what had by now become the old familiar scene.  I felt obliged to stay, having handed Bono's cousin AJ a letter for him informing of Elsha's immediate cyber presence.  The stress had become a new normal, being there with dozens of pushy, excited and nervous fans as we awaited the arrival of the band.  At one point I stood up to hold my space at the rail, to discover a single feather had somehow appeared under my seat and was now lodged firmly between my feet on the grass.  I chuckled to myself, and messaged Gina about the synchronicity of the angels leaving me their calling card at this point in time.  If God would send His Angels, indeed, they were right under my nose all along.

On the rail, I passed around my frankincense oil to us all, the powerful scent calming our frazzled nerves.  We were there together, a small tribe of hungry ghosts.

Eventually, the black Escalade with the police escort pulled past my spot at the rail, and a cheer went up down the line.  I later saw a photo of Bono waving from inside the vehicle, his window rolled down for just a quick drive by acknowledgement today, only a second or two after he had passed my spot, hidden behind tinted glass windows.

The crowd quickly dispersed, disappointed, and I remained at the rail for a long time, chatting with Elsha over Facebook video messenger.  Marcela stuck close by me for a long while, as if I knew something she didn't, which I did, but it didn't make any difference in the end.  No one came out to fetch me and Elsha, and Bono made no further appearance to greet the fans at the loading dock that evening. Eventually, Marcela said goodbye, with a couple of quick cheek kisses and a smile.  My anger had turned to affection for my new friend in whom I had seen myself so clearly, in my relative sobriety.  I was grateful for her, after all.

 I felt a familiar disappointment.  I was amazed, seeing how I had set myself up for predictable disappointment repeatedly, and I knew I was done waiting by the loading dock for this year, at least.

That night, I celebrated in the wide open spaces at the back of the floor, dancing with new friends, having my photo taken by fellow fans  who appreciated my PopMartian outfit and U2OPIA license plate necklace, and accepting a high five from security guards who must have enjoyed watching me cavort about the place through the whole of the Joshua Tree.  I had found a platform, and in my own secret world, I was onstage too.

One more time, early on, "A Sort of Homecoming" was the jewel of the set.  In the end, I ran out of the stadium as "The Little Things..." began, to wave goodbye to the band as they buzzed past;  "Four jerks in a police escort, that's funny" (Bono's quote, 1992).  I didn't see them through the tinted glass of the vehicles, and that was okay with me. 

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