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 

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.

PopMartian on a Rollercoaster Ride

Night 23
June 3: Inside Soldier Field

As soon as Chris and I got inside the venue, I started to feel better. Memories of entering Soldier Field for U2 twenty years ago with my big brother came flooding back. The sense of joy that I had felt on that day returned as we found our way to our club level seats.

We sat down and took in the view from section 209. The floor and the seating sections were only beginning to fill up as the sun sank down in the sky, getting ready to fall completely obscured behind the stadium.  I was grateful to take another moment with my softly shining solar star before this long day might transform into another magical night.

I spoke with Elsha over Facebook chat, and shared the scene with her through the lens of my phone.  In a moment after we disconnected, I saw a text had come in from Ken Mendez, and his message brought unwelcome news.  Ken sent pictures of Bono that he had just taken, right out where I had sat for four hours waiting on the singer through the afternoon.  I had missed Bono's late arrival.  I felt as if my heart might break as I looked at two gorgeous pictures of the man greeting the crowd.  My pre-show happiness vanished and was replaced with deep pain for having missed him, especially after having waited right there for so long.  Marcela had been mistaken, apparently.  The adorable pictures Ken M. sent hit me like a punch in the gut.

Ugh.... so close yet so far.  I sadly shared the news with my brother Chris, who didn't seem too bothered.  I was so sad though! Before this news came through, I had been planning to grab a number on my hand after the show, and play the GA game again in anticipation of tomorrow night's show.  After seeing this turn of events, I figured I'd better go wait by the loading dock to see what I could see again tomorrow after the GA crowd would be let into the venue.

The smells of pot and alcohol wafted around me.  The aching hole I felt in my heart nagged for me to fill it with one of my old addictions. I was craving for real, for the first time in a long time.   I was glad Chris was with me, keeping me grounded in sobriety.  After all, higher powers willing, tomorrow, June 4, would mark eighteen months free of marijuana and alcohol for this grateful addict in recovery.

The stadium continued to fill, and The Lumineers played to a happy crowd under the oncoming twilight.  Soldier Field was overwhelmingly massive, and despite myself, I began to admire the sheer power of this joyous humanity brought together again by U2 music.

Finally, Larry's entrance song began, and he was striding down the ramp on his way to bang into "Sunday Bloody Sunday".  As the rest of the band joined him, one by one, my heart sank, seeing how terribly far away they were from me.  I flashed on troubled memories of my very first U2 concert, 25 years prior, when I had felt pained over how far away they were onstage in RFK stadium that night.  Tears began to creep up behind my eyes....
Then I remembered hearing Bono say sometime in the past...
"If I stay close to the songs, and you stay close to the songs, then I guess we can be close to each other"

With that thought,  I pushed off my personal rock bottom of isolation, powerlessness, and regret, to find my way into the songs, starting with "Bad", where we, the multitudes at Soldier Field that night, came together in an intimate embrace inside the inner sanctum of our collective, shared heart.  The band was the channel; the music led us inward together.

The beauty of the stage and the production was breathtaking from the club level.  The HD screen, indescribable.  My brother the photographer made some gorgeous shots while I danced through Side 2 of the Joshua Tree.

"Ultraviolet" remained in the encore, and I thought of my little daughter.  The lyrics this night very clearly spoke my message of gratitude to her.  Back when I felt alone, pregnant, and frightened, when "I was all messed up and I had OPERA in my head, (her) love was a lightbulb hanging over my bed".  I was in joy, thinking of her, singing what had since become her song, as we had used it to announce her anticipated birth on Facebook in 2013.

 The waves of happiness continued through the encore with "Elevation", where, from this angle, I was able to appreciate the enormous power of the crowd, spreading out before Larry and the big screen, and behind him in a magnificent reflection of happy humanity. Joy all around in these songs, in this celebrating crowd, and in the end as "I Will Follow" closed out the night for us.

Chris and I sat, and watched the crowd dissipate, and he marveled that it was the best U2 show he had ever seen, as we took a selfie to capture our post-show glow.  I rode the glow cloud all the way out of that stadium, untouched by the chaotic masses, uninterested in getting a number for the GA line that was well underway for the next nights show, unfettered by the traffic and the drunks and the city chaos, just floating on that sweet soft cloud of joy the whole way back to the hostel.

There was a feminine form in a statue, across from the hostel, where late night traffic was gridlocked and drivers were hunkered down cursing at each other.  She flew gorgeously above the chaotic commute, headlights like a carpet under her heels,  and in her, I saw me.  Happy, joyous, and free, transcending together... not coming down.

So the 34th U2 concert in my 40 years did, after all, end on a peak note.  I finally surrendered to sleep on the seventh floor of HI Chicago in the wee hours of Sunday morning.

Sadly, my sweet dreams would soon give way to a furious frustration, with the return of the Chicago morning sun.

Day 23: Waiting for Godot, Under Pressure

Day 23:  Waiting For Godot, Under Pressure

June 3, 2017
Chicago

I woke up early and rose, after a few hours of sleep in the hostel. My nervous anticipation for the day was pressing in on my heart center. On the way back up from breakfast, I met another U2er, Mr. Ken Mendez from Minneapolis.  We traded stories and shared photos from the meeting with Edge and Adam the preceding night, and agreed that today seemed it would be a good day to head back to the loading ramp and see who else might come out for a meet and greet.

Upon return to my room, I sat in meditation.  I noticed how busy my mind was, and how hard it was to let go of all my scampering thoughts.  I found it challenging to sit there for 15 minutes and nearly impossible to dive any deeper into my center Source than the surface.  There I was once again, just "sliding down the surface of things", and utterly swept up in the ride down the slide.

I called into a Marijuana Anonymous phone meeting as I got dressed for show day.  Having donned my silver light up high tops, my velvet skater skirt, my PopMart tee, and the purple heart shaped sunglasses, I disconnected from the MA meeting early, too excited to wait any longer to head to the venue.  It was about 11:40 am when I walked out of the hostel and found my way into Grant Park.

What a beautiful refuge it was from the bustling urban streets. On the way through the park, again I ran into Ken. We walked together the rest of the way to Soldier Field, along the lovely lakeside, and found the barricaded entrance to the loading dock. We chose a spot where Ken had gotten a selfie with Edge the night before. It was 12:15, and there were only a half-dozen other fans hanging around at that point.
I was very happy with our position on the barricade, seated on the grass where I felt grounded.  Before long  more fans joined us. Deena Dietrich, the author and friend I had met on the I/e tour, and remembered seeing at multiple shows as far back as the 2001 Elevation tour, showed up in her original Larry Mullen Band t-shirt.  Brigitte stopped by too, but she needed to get back to the GA line before too long.

My brother Chris called to check-in, and I let him know where we were, making it clear that I wasn't planning to go anywhere and he was welcome to join us, while trying not to imply any pressure for him to do so. He said he would probably catch up later on.

 I returned my attention to the scene, tying my license plate on the barricade in front of me like a flag. I took a selfie and hashtagged it in slight hopes of winning an upgrade to the Red Zone for tonight. Chris and I had tried for Red Zone Tickets initially, but they were all gone by the time my presale code was activated.  As it turned out, I was actually looking forward to taking in the view from the stands for tonight, yet the draw of the floor and proximity to the band was relentless.

It started getting crowded and more people begin filling in the spaces around the loading dock. I noticed a woman right next to me who was really getting into my space. I was sitting down on the grass, and she was standing up with her ass just inches away behind my head. I ignored it, turned away, and held my ground.

Chris showed up around 2pm, and we sat and had some great chats, real existential kind of stuff, and I told him how this scene always felt a lot to me like "Waiting for Godot":

Waiting for Godot (/ˈɡɒdoʊ/ GOD-oh^[1]) is a play by Samuel Beckett, in which two characters, Vladimir and Estragon, wait for the arrival of someone named Godot who never arrives, and while waiting they engage in a variety of discussions and encounter... other characters. 

We had a great time, sitting in the shade, going deep in conversation about the nature of reality with an ever-expanding perspective, from about 2:15 until around 3-ish, when the crowd started getting a little bit bigger and a little bit pushier.

Around that time, Marcela and Paul appeared.   Marcela greeted me with a big grin and a friendly wave, which was very nice compared to the distracted energy I had felt from her the night before. By then, when I looked up from my conversation with Chris, I saw a lot of people behind us, still sitting casually, whilst also holding their ground. I stood up then, starting to feel a little bit more territorial, and noticed that I had moved further away from my license plate, and now the girl who had her butt right behind my head to the point that I had unwillingly seen a lot more of her hindquarters then I certainly would have chosen to, was standing nearly centered by my license plate.  Around the same time, Paul came around the front of the barricade and remarked, "I see you have interesting company again".  My adrenal system was going off by then and I had no idea what he was talking about.

Then it clicked: the woman at my side on the barricade was the same woman that had been present the night before with a very rude attitude. While we were waiting then, I had spoken under my breath to Paul about how out of line she was. That day, I was only just realizing that the great ass behind my head had been hers all along. And now, there she was standing by my  license plate.  My fight or flight response started kicking in even more at that point.

Paul gave me a sticker he said they had made with an image of the great red screen and the giant Joshua Tree silhouette at the beginning of streets with the band members backlit against it. Marcela was wearing a v-neck black shirt with the same image across the chest, and Paul told me they had made that as well.  Eventually, Paul moved back around to the other side of the barricade where the crowd was actually supposed to be. Soon thereafter, Marcela came and asked for a picture with us, then eventually moved back off the front line when we turned away from her. I noticed the rude ass girl to my right seem to be encroaching more and more into my space so I said something like, "Excuse me, could you please move back over? You're right in front of the license plate where I have been sitting all afternoon."

Things kind of fell apart at that point. She refused to move and instead starting pushing her body against me. I stood my ground pushing back. She started verbally assaulting me with insults and I decided to test the theory that only love would drown out hate: I told her I loved her. She called me gay and kept pushing. I turned my back on her and then we were leaning back to back in a standoff, and it was very very uncomfortable.

I tried to carry on a conversation with my brother, and by then, Marcela, who had found her way up closer to the barricade with us. She asked me how long I was going to stay. Meanwhile my brother Chris was aggravated by the rude woman who was pushing against me. I was still in full flight or fight mode,  and becoming exhausted. The presence of my brother was bringing up visceral sense of what it had been like when I was a school kid being bullied, and i had called on big bro Chris to stand up for me. My drive to flee was starting to get strong when Marcela suggested to me that if the band hadn't come out by 4 p.m., they wouldn't come out at all.

This was really all I needed to hear to be convinced to get out.  I checked in with Elsha through Facebook video chat and told her I was sorry but it seemed like it wasn't going to happen today, and we were going to head out. She said it seemed like the crowd around me was nice. I said, "yeah it does seem that way" and then I winked at her.

Just then, I saw David the filmmaker walking on the hill crest across the street, filming the crowd that continue to grow in anticipation of the band's arrival. It was just past four o'clock by then, and I couldn't resist the urge to escape anymore. I untied my license plate, said see you later to Marcela,  and Chris and I crossed the street, relinquishing our spot to her.

We had a quick chat with David, and then we walked away from the scene in search of some dinner. I felt disappointed even as I was relieved to have escaped the pressure I was feeling there.  I also felt extremely triggered, and noticed panicky feelings rising up in my heart.  I sat down in the grass in the park next to some food stands while Chris went and got us some food. I took some pictures of me with the sun behind me and my license plate in front, and when I look at them the sadness in my eyes is undeniable.

Then a beautiful blackbird came and sat on the grass close in front of me. I took some pictures and felt some communion with him.

And though I remain sad, to not have met Bono again, to have failed to bring Elsha to talk with him today, I felt a bit more grounded back in my body.

Chris reappeared and we had some dinner, and we talked about what it happened. Soon, we got up and started walking towards Soldier Field, where the doors were opening to the fans.

I Go There With You

June 2, 2017


Night 22: Outside Soldier Field, Chicago


It was surreal and fabulous to be waiting to meet the band with my big brother, who had displayed his original Joshua Tree poster on the wall of his room from 1987 through about 1992.  I used to sneak into his room as a pre-teen, before I had caught the real obsession with the music, and gaze at Bono's striking profile, already captivated.


I found a spot to stand near the rail, behind a quiet couple on the sidewalk by the driveway entrance, and next to a few people standing on the hillside where the rail met the grass.  I checked in with Elsha and her mom Shana via Facebook IM video chat.  They were ready to take my call when it was time.  I disconnected with a promise to ring them back if and when any of the band came out to say hello.


I started chatting with the young man in front of me, who wore a big backpack, and found out his name was Paul.  When I introduced myself as Marcy, he remarked that I had the same name as his girlfriend, Marcela, who stood quietly, intently watching the activity behind the gates.  He introduced me to her, and she smiled slightly and said hello, then went back to watching the gates.  I recognized her then, in her black hat with a white brim band, from Facebook U2 fan groups, as one of the women that Bono had onstage during the tour two years prior.  We talked a bit about our experiences onstage with Bono, hers only 2 years ago, and mine almost 20 years prior.  She and Paul watched the video I had on my phone from my time onstage with Bono those decades ago, and I looked at her pictures.


Before too long, the energy changed as more police and a body guard that I recognized came out to let us know that they would be coming out to see us.  I got Elsha back on line via Facebook video chat.  The crowd cheered as Edge emerged from a black vehicle that pulled out of the underground, and he began quickly and quietly making his way down the barricade on the opposite side of the driveway, saying hello and shaking hands. 


After just a minute or so, Edge crossed over to our side, and we all cheered again as my brother filmed.  I reached out my hand across the gap between us and he shook it, saying, "thanks for coming out" to everyone as he managed all the extended hands and declined to sign the outstretched albums.  His body guard asserted in a lovely Irish brogue, "Not gonna be doin' any signing today, just coming out for a quick hello", and I managed to vocalize over the excitement, "Hey Edge, I've got Elsha here for ya.... on the phone, it's Elsha".   Edge looked over, surprised, and saw the phone I was holding out with Elsha's smiling face on the screen.  His voice rose with pleasure as he flashed her a big gorgeous grin and said "Hi!!  How are you!  Big kiss!!" and blew her a kiss through my phone!

To be honest, I can't remember much about what happened between then and when Adam came out, because of course by then we were all REALLY buzzing.  Adam followed Edge's lead, and he managed to sign as he went along the lines.  When he came to us I presented him with a book I had made of pictures from two years before in Denver, on June 6 and 7, when we had met the whole band one by one outside the Denver Arena.  I had it opened to the page that features a picture of him signing my then 13-month old daughter's back.  That day in 2015, she had been wearing a U2 onesie that Miss Elsha had sent her as a gift.  On June 2, 2017, Adam grinned as he signed the photo of himself signing my baby's back two years prior.  As he did, I said to him "Adam I've got Elsha here for you on the phone".  He looked up, surprised, then looked at my phone and said "oh, Hello!" to Elsha.  He moved on down the line, signing for everyone, smiling and said, "I'm on a roll!".

Then he was gone, and the guards said that was it, Larry and Bono had left through a different exit already,  and we floated away from the scene, buzz buzz buzzing, and the Chicago night was dripping with sparkling magic in my eyes.  I took some pictures, and Chris and I wandered back toward my hostel and his car, marveling over the awesomeness we had just shared.  We met two more giddy fans as we walked, and they showed us that Adam had signed their forearms, and they planned to get the Sharpie scripts turned into tattoos ASAP.

I got to the hostel, met uber fan Dubliner Greg Fitzsimons on the way in, who had flown in to surprise the U2 tribe.  We said goodnight and see ya tomorrow.  Finally, I sat in a delicious meditation in my private room before surrendering to sleep.

Day 22: Home Again

June 2, 2017: Home Again
Day 22:  Denver to Chicago

Before I headed to the airport, and after I had left my three year old at her day care for her father to pick up for the weekend, I stopped for acupuncture in Denver.  My energy was running very high, and this was largely due to my plan to head directly from O'Hare airport to Soldier Field to see about catching the band late night if they might be doing a sound check tonight.  My mission felt legitimate:  to go there with the goal of getting Elsha some Face Time with the band members, to bring her in as a part of this scene as much as possible this spring.

Looking crazy in a photograph

At the departure gate in Denver, I found a handful of friends from the local U2 fan scene who were heading to Chicago for the shows.  We got a picture together and boarded our flight, to our separate seats, together in shared tribal spirit.

I watched the clouds from my window seat after we had left the ground.  I could see Larry the Lynx on our tail, but the sunset was on the other side of the plane.  I was wishing I could see our lovely glowing orb, when an ethereal cloud formation appeared ahead.  As we approached, the clouds turned into a pink doorway that I thought might have led to the fifth dimension.

I was on for Chicago tonight, though.  We might even find 5D at Soldier Field, I believed.

When we landed, I called my big brother right away.  I had imagined him chilling in his quiet hotel outside the city, and he surprised me by sharing that he was outside the stadium, listening to the band rehearse inside.   Immediately, my brain shifted into its most driven frequency.  I would not be able to get off that plane fast enough!  I looked around and saw my U2 Friends from Denver rising from their seats.  They looked much more relaxed than I felt.... my excitement was only rising as the plane got ready to let us out.
I had even upgraded to a seat near the front so I could get out quicker!

As quickly as possible, I was out and speed walking through the terminal whilst sending for an Uber on my smart phone.  I had my back up battery and I was ready to get where I needed to be, with the tribe down at Soldier Field.  Over the phone, I had directed Chris to find them waiting around the back under stadium entrance.
I was vaguely aware of a need to use the restroom, but I pushed on.  It was 9:30pm already.  I had to get down to the spot without any delay.

I could see myself, taken completely by this desire.  I could see, peace was not at all my North Star in this moment.  My guiding light was only U2 right now.  I was on a mission.  Elsha knew what the plan was.  I had to get down there and be in place at the right time.

So, after awhile, I jumped in that Uber, and 40 minutes later, I hopped out and said hello again to all the stars of our tribe who were out tonight, shining in the summer night.  There was Margaret, and David Barry the film maker, and there was Jim Naughton, a Facebook friend.  I felt a bit like a star stepping out myself; my plate around my neck, and my silver light up high tops on my feet, as I crossed the driveway to hug Margaret and David, then find my brother who was now standing with dear Brigitte.

I was home again!  So we stood at the barricades and waited, all abuzz, all together.