Took Amtrak to NYC last night to catch yet another U2 concert. After meeting Bono last month, I felt like I had to see the group perform one more time. So I bid for a ticket on Ebay, which was luckily sold by a nice U2 fan. However, the seat turned out to be pretty crappy. Oh well.
On the train ride up, I sat next to a college student who hunched in his seat and talked on his cell phone the whole way. He would like an XBox 360 for Christmas, as well as a digital camera. During the conversation, he tried to persuade the person on the other end that "what's two pages between friends?" Hmmm.
My friend Lisa met me at Neptune, a tasty Polish restaurant on 12th Street. We had pierogies and stuffed cabbage. Yum. Even better, I did not throw up, which is how I spent most of Sunday (from a stomach bug, alas, not from too much fun). Two waitresses took our order. I am not sure if both were new or our order (MANY pierogies) was too complicated.
Around 9 p.m., Lisa drove me to Madison Square Garden to see U2. SHRIEK!!!!! But it was gray and rainy and kind of icky and I felt kind of icky. Sigh. Found my seat, which was in the LAST row of the HIGHEST section, BEHIND the stage. Oh well. This way, I could look at Bono's butt. Although I found myself staring more at Adam's butt. You know, I don't stare enough at Adam and I should.
At first I was seated next to a giggly gay foreign man, who seemed to be hitting on his companion. The concert started. My view was partially blocked by the wall to my left, the ledge above me and the very tall people in front of me. Sigh. Then the pot smoking started. Hello. That went out in high school. Well, not MY high school, which was all girls, conservative and Catholic, but you know what I meant. So there I was, in a confined space, smelling bad pot. (I am not a pot aficionado, but this stuff didn't smell too good.)
Watched the concert. Look at Bono and Adam's butts. Got to see how Bono really can NOT dance and how he hops a lot. The group still had a lot of energy, considering they have been on tour for months. They played "I Will Follow," one of their earliest hits, which they don't perform too much.
Bono sang the song dedicated to his father, Bob, who died not too long ago. Every day for 10 years, Bono's father would greet him by saying: "Why don't you take off those stupid, fucking sunglasses?" So Bono did, in his dad's honor, while he sang "Sometimes You Can't Make it On Your Own."
He brought a little blond boy on stage during "Sunday Bloody Sunday" and chased Edge all the way around the oval on another couple songs. I hoped he wouldn't slip and hurl himself into the audience. Bono is not the most graceful of men.
Neither were the drunk, loud, rude girls who decided to switch seats and stand next to me. (The giggly gay man had disappeared. I know not where). "Bonooooo!!!!" they slurred, as they bumped into me and swayed. I couldn't take it anymore, cursed them off, jumped over the rail and found another seat. Next to some cute guys. And in fact, it was a BETTER seat.
The best part of the show, for me, was Bono singing "With or Without You" while hugging and dancing with a young woman from the crowd. Sigh. Someday that will be me. But remember, I love him but not in a CREEPY way.