I feel guilty for many, many things in my life. I have a lot of regrets, times I should have taken a stand, times I gave up too easily.
You see, I was brought up to obey unquestioningly. When I was a kid, adults weren't on your side, and they weren't supposed to be. They weren't there to help with your problems, and they didn't really want to hear about them. You were supposed to do what they said and, insofar as you didn't do so, or didn't think what they thought, you were supposed to stay under the radar.
When my school started a gifted program when I was in fifth grade, we were pulled out of regular class to go to Gifted. We couldn't miss math or history, obviously, so the classes we had to skip were music and art.
I didn't mind missing music so much - it was pretty much just singing without having been taught to sing, and I was in band anyway. But I loved art. I wanted to be a visual artist of some kind when I grew up, although I knew better than to share that particular gem with my parents. (Once when I was drawing - this is a gem! - Mom complained that I was "wasting ink.")
No art in fifth or sixth grade. When we started junior high, we still went down to the Gifted classroom in the elementary building for a period. Which period? Art. In high school, there weren't any more gifted classes, so I signed up for art every semester. Every semester, I wasn't allowed to take art, because you only needed one arts credit, and - again - I was in band, so I'd end up with at least four of them.
My point is, I didn't think to formulate an argument and take it to my parents or to the principal. They weren't on my side. In the same way, I had to take an advanced math class (based on the track I was in, based on my grades in other classes) when I really needed the basic math class. My individual needs weren't a concern. In fact, adults didn't really think we had individual needs, as far as I could tell.
They finally let me take Art I when I was a senior, but by that time I was performing at about a third grade level, and it was really too late.
I'd still love to learn to draw someday.
By the same token, I quit piano lessons after the new male teacher persisted in sitting too close on the bench, leaning from behind with both arms to show me things on the keyboard, etc. I didn't tell anyone why I quit; my parents wouldn't have cared. I didn't confront the teacher. Nothing in my experience had given me the impression that I even had the right to say "Hey, you're making me uncomfortable; think you could back off? I'm trying to play piano here." That would be akin to challenging an adult's authority over me, and I didn't have the right to do that. In fact, a couple of years later, an adult male my mother was having an affair with, did put the moves on me in a very real and potentially scary sense. I told my mom. She said that I must have misunderstood.
I had a lousy education. I feel like I should have advocated for myself - asked to take that basic math course, for instance. My school didn't have AP classes. We didn't have final exams. There was one English class called "college prep English." that was the only class we had to write an essay in.
The thing is, this is the kind of stuff that really haunts me. My failures and losses. I can't get over how stupid I was to quit piano. What a passive loser I was. What a loss music and art were to me. I honestly get tears in my eyes in the art section of crafts stores. When I think about being able to draw, or paint, I honestly get depressed and have a crying jag because I'm such a failure at something I wanted so much.
But the other thing is -- I was a kid. A KID. I shouldn't have had all the responsibility here. Someone should have been looking out FOR me. My parents. Teachers. School administrators. For gods' sake, there were less than 50 people in my high school graduating class. It's not like they had to keep track of hundreds and hundreds of us. Someone might have realized I ALWAYS tried to take art. Someone might have noticed that my math scores were way below my other classes. The closest I got to individual attention was when the superintendent, who could see the playground out her window, called me into her office in elementary school and told me not to play with the boys any more. (In retrospect, she probably thought I was going to be a lesbian if not for her intervention.)
We were all fools.
The other thing is how passive I was with my father. He got sick when I was about ten (although he lived another 20 years), and from then on he didn't join the family for meals but instead ate by himself in the living room.
One might wonder why I didn't sometimes take my plate in there and eat with him. That probably would have made him pretty happy. I can't stand to think about how it really didn't even occur to me. Part of it was the "no eating anywhere but the kitchen table" rule, but most of it was that I was a fucking idiot.
But sometimes I think maybe I should try to forgive myself. I only really realized lately that the stuff I feel the worst about - the stuff that really makes me want to punch myself in the face - is stuff I never should have had sole responsibility for in the first place.
I mean, I won't forgive myself. I'm pretty sure I'm constitutionally incapable of forgiving myself. For anything, ever.
But sometimes I think maybe I should try.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
Amps 4 Sale
(I wasn't sure where else to park this so I could link to it, so here it is.)
Victoria 512
Hand-built clone of '50s tweed Champ in 1x12 speaker cab.
5 watts
Controls - volume
$900 (neg.)
Fargen MiniPlex
Hand-built version of Marshall amp.
Switchable between 12 and 7 watts.
Controls - master vol.-volume-Treble-Bass-Mid-Decade switch ('60s '70s '80s - switches between different eras of Marshall tone)
$900 (neg.)
Victoria 512
Hand-built clone of '50s tweed Champ in 1x12 speaker cab.
5 watts
Controls - volume
$900 (neg.)
Fargen MiniPlex
Hand-built version of Marshall amp.
Switchable between 12 and 7 watts.
Controls - master vol.-volume-Treble-Bass-Mid-Decade switch ('60s '70s '80s - switches between different eras of Marshall tone)
$900 (neg.)
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Resistance: Fall of Man; or, White Guy Gets All The Credit
Husband and I have been playing a first-person shooter RPG called “Resistance: Fall of Man.” We’re both loving the game. It’s a traditional split-screen cooperative mission-based game featuring soldiers trying to fight off an alien invasion (in a nutshell).
However, it’s a game with one main character. Husband took Player 1 and I took Player 2 and, as I said, it’s a first-person POV, so we’re looking out through our character’s eyes. Fairly early in the game, we saw that Husband’s character is a white male soldier and mine is a black male soldier.
At the end of various stages, the narrative – sometimes another character in dialogue, sometimes an explicit narrator – explains how there was only one survivor, or only one soldier accomplished something, or the protagonist was the only man who … meaning Player 1, of course. The white guy.
I’m making a real stink about this.
Narrator: “He was the only surviving soldier from that unit …”
Me: “Hel – LO!! What am I?? Oh, I get it, I’M not important!! Sure, acknowledge Whitey! Typical! Etc.”
Heh.
It was especially hurtful after a couple of levels during which I had some great marksmanship and was, like, shooting the robot drone bombers while husband was turned around or not yet at the battle scene or just a bit slower on the draw that particular time or whatever.
Our playing styles are pretty complimentary, but there are times when our personalities really show through. We’ll be doing the same mission at the same time (of course), but there’ll come a point where we’ve looked carefully through a room and husband is still methodically looking around the perimeter while I’m standing impatiently at the door ready for the next room.
Husband tends to find all the clues that are just sitting there waiting to be picked up.
I tend to trigger most of the ambushes.
Works for us.
However, it’s a game with one main character. Husband took Player 1 and I took Player 2 and, as I said, it’s a first-person POV, so we’re looking out through our character’s eyes. Fairly early in the game, we saw that Husband’s character is a white male soldier and mine is a black male soldier.
At the end of various stages, the narrative – sometimes another character in dialogue, sometimes an explicit narrator – explains how there was only one survivor, or only one soldier accomplished something, or the protagonist was the only man who … meaning Player 1, of course. The white guy.
I’m making a real stink about this.
Narrator: “He was the only surviving soldier from that unit …”
Me: “Hel – LO!! What am I?? Oh, I get it, I’M not important!! Sure, acknowledge Whitey! Typical! Etc.”
Heh.
It was especially hurtful after a couple of levels during which I had some great marksmanship and was, like, shooting the robot drone bombers while husband was turned around or not yet at the battle scene or just a bit slower on the draw that particular time or whatever.
Our playing styles are pretty complimentary, but there are times when our personalities really show through. We’ll be doing the same mission at the same time (of course), but there’ll come a point where we’ve looked carefully through a room and husband is still methodically looking around the perimeter while I’m standing impatiently at the door ready for the next room.
Husband tends to find all the clues that are just sitting there waiting to be picked up.
I tend to trigger most of the ambushes.
Works for us.
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Chickpea tikka masala
I read something like this recipe in a blog a few months ago, which is why I had the jar of sauce on hand.
Olive oil
1 carrot, finely diced
up to ½ bell pepper, chopped
up to ½ smallish onion, chopped
1 can chickpeas
1 small jar Tikka Masala sauce (from Food Fantasies)
Spices to taste
In saucepan, saute carrot until softened. Add pepper and onion and sauté until softened. (I used a red pepper because it’s what I happened to have on hand.)
During the vegetable sauté, add salt, pepper, garlic powder to taste.
Drain chickpeas and add to pan; sauté until hot. Add sauce and simmer briskly for five or ten minutes. Season to taste. (This is where I realized the sauce wasn’t quite as spicy as I’d imagined, so I added a bit of “Cajun seasoning” and chili powder, along with more salt, pepper, and garlic.)
That’s it! Serve over rice or pasta or whatever.
The good: pretty easy to make and super yummy. Also versatile, depending on what veggies you have on hand. This could be a great “don’t waste that last tired carrot” kind of dish. You could also try it with one of the other jarred Indian sauces available.
The bad: The only thing I can think of is that you have to chop up a couple of veggies.
Verdict: Awesome, would make again, looking forward to leftovers.
Olive oil
1 carrot, finely diced
up to ½ bell pepper, chopped
up to ½ smallish onion, chopped
1 can chickpeas
1 small jar Tikka Masala sauce (from Food Fantasies)
Spices to taste
In saucepan, saute carrot until softened. Add pepper and onion and sauté until softened. (I used a red pepper because it’s what I happened to have on hand.)
During the vegetable sauté, add salt, pepper, garlic powder to taste.
Drain chickpeas and add to pan; sauté until hot. Add sauce and simmer briskly for five or ten minutes. Season to taste. (This is where I realized the sauce wasn’t quite as spicy as I’d imagined, so I added a bit of “Cajun seasoning” and chili powder, along with more salt, pepper, and garlic.)
That’s it! Serve over rice or pasta or whatever.
The good: pretty easy to make and super yummy. Also versatile, depending on what veggies you have on hand. This could be a great “don’t waste that last tired carrot” kind of dish. You could also try it with one of the other jarred Indian sauces available.
The bad: The only thing I can think of is that you have to chop up a couple of veggies.
Verdict: Awesome, would make again, looking forward to leftovers.
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Posole adventure
A few weeks ago, my mother-in-law gave us a can of hominy. She was cleaning out her pantry, didn’t want the hominy, and thought we might.
I hadn’t eaten hominy in … I don’t know how long; perhaps since trying it once or twice in elementary school and deciding it wasn’t for me.
Years later, there aren’t many vegetables I still don’t like (I’m looking at you, turnips), so I did some searching for hominy recipes. (I was hesitant to just dump it in a bowl, microwave it, and call it a side dish.) Many of the results were for posole, a Mexican chicken and hominy soup.
Coincidentally (OR IS IT?), not long after, a blogger acquaintance of mine posted all about her own posole discovery, complete with recipe.
Well, why not? I decided to give it a try, making very few changes to her recipe.
Ingredients:
8 to 9 cups chicken stock
2 cups chopped onion
3 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, each cut into 4-5 pieces
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1 or 2 jalapeno peppers, seeded and chopped
1 30-oz can white hominy, drained
16-oz jar tomatillo salsa
1 teaspoon salt
½ cup chopped cilantro if desired
My modifications/comments:
I had less onion than that on hand (oddly, for me), but used what I had
*I used about 2 pounds of chicken, not 3
I used about 5 garlic cloves, but you really couldn’t taste it in the end
I used about 1 ½ jalapenos, but would use more next time
I had a 15-ish oz can of white hominy; I bought a similar can of yellow and used both because, in the store, I couldn’t remember which color I had at home or which color I was supposed to use.
The tomatillo salsa I used was labeled “medium,” the only type I found at the store, but the soup was by no means too spicy.
*backstory: Around a year ago I started eating meat after being vegetarian for 10 years. I was surprised to see how expensive chicken was, even the non-organic kind. We decided to go with two pounds instead of three based on cost. I was glad we did when I saw the meat counter guy piling up the chicken for me! It was a lot. I could cut it down still more if I made this again. Raw chicken was just as disgusting as I remember. I feel like I ended with a trash can full of veins and fat. Yuck! And that’s the clean, skinless, boneless, pristine meat counter specimens.
Put first 6 ingredients (stock through hominy) in a large stockpot and bring to a boil. Cover and simmer 35 minutes or until chicken is done. (The original instructions allow for chicken on the bone, which is then removed, boned, and shredded at this point. I fished out some of the bigger chicken pieces and shredded them up, but I wasn’t totally sure if I should or not.) Stir in tomatillo sauce and salt; cook for 5 minutes or until hot.
The recipe said to serve with cilantro, sour cream, and lime wedges.
The good: Usually when I make soup I make “freezer soup,” which has no specific recipe and has everything in it. It was nice to make a specific kind of soup from a recipe. It seemed extremely full of chicken even with the reduced quantity. The tomatillos added a nice flavor. It was a very comforting dish; a Mexican version of chicken noodle soup? This soup was very hearty but seemed very healthy at the same time, had great if somewhat muted flavors, and provided lots of leftovers
The bad: It seemed like this soup took forever to make, mostly because I work more slowly when making a new recipe, was paranoid about working with raw chicken and had to switch knives, had to scrub after chopping the garlic and again after chopping the jalapenos, etc. The proportions seemed a little odd, but I’m not sure in what way – maybe just that the chicken kind of floated, the hominy kind of sank, and everything else seemed to get lost. It didn’t seem spicy at all aside from a nice tomatillo whang, and I would have used more garlic, more onion, and more jalapenos next time. We both felt like it needed something, perhaps beans or more veggies? Bell peppers?
We had cornbread on the side for a yummy bonus.
Even though I’d bough cilantro, we skipped it because, by the time the soup was finished, I was tired of standing around waiting for soup and didn’t want to rinse and chop anything else. We’ll probably have it with the leftovers tonight. I didn’t serve it with lime wedges or sour cream because I didn’t want to buy either one just for this. If you could purchase sour cream in two-tablespoonful-packages, I would!
Verdict: I’m not totally sure I felt like it was worth the prep work, especially dealing with chicken, which totally grosses me out. Your response to chicken may vary. When it was done, though, the chicken was nice and flavorful. I would totally eat this in a restaurant if available, or make it on a weekend instead of weeknight.
I hadn’t eaten hominy in … I don’t know how long; perhaps since trying it once or twice in elementary school and deciding it wasn’t for me.
Years later, there aren’t many vegetables I still don’t like (I’m looking at you, turnips), so I did some searching for hominy recipes. (I was hesitant to just dump it in a bowl, microwave it, and call it a side dish.) Many of the results were for posole, a Mexican chicken and hominy soup.
Coincidentally (OR IS IT?), not long after, a blogger acquaintance of mine posted all about her own posole discovery, complete with recipe.
Well, why not? I decided to give it a try, making very few changes to her recipe.
Ingredients:
8 to 9 cups chicken stock
2 cups chopped onion
3 pounds boneless, skinless chicken breasts, each cut into 4-5 pieces
4 garlic cloves, chopped
1 or 2 jalapeno peppers, seeded and chopped
1 30-oz can white hominy, drained
16-oz jar tomatillo salsa
1 teaspoon salt
½ cup chopped cilantro if desired
My modifications/comments:
I had less onion than that on hand (oddly, for me), but used what I had
*I used about 2 pounds of chicken, not 3
I used about 5 garlic cloves, but you really couldn’t taste it in the end
I used about 1 ½ jalapenos, but would use more next time
I had a 15-ish oz can of white hominy; I bought a similar can of yellow and used both because, in the store, I couldn’t remember which color I had at home or which color I was supposed to use.
The tomatillo salsa I used was labeled “medium,” the only type I found at the store, but the soup was by no means too spicy.
*backstory: Around a year ago I started eating meat after being vegetarian for 10 years. I was surprised to see how expensive chicken was, even the non-organic kind. We decided to go with two pounds instead of three based on cost. I was glad we did when I saw the meat counter guy piling up the chicken for me! It was a lot. I could cut it down still more if I made this again. Raw chicken was just as disgusting as I remember. I feel like I ended with a trash can full of veins and fat. Yuck! And that’s the clean, skinless, boneless, pristine meat counter specimens.
Put first 6 ingredients (stock through hominy) in a large stockpot and bring to a boil. Cover and simmer 35 minutes or until chicken is done. (The original instructions allow for chicken on the bone, which is then removed, boned, and shredded at this point. I fished out some of the bigger chicken pieces and shredded them up, but I wasn’t totally sure if I should or not.) Stir in tomatillo sauce and salt; cook for 5 minutes or until hot.
The recipe said to serve with cilantro, sour cream, and lime wedges.
The good: Usually when I make soup I make “freezer soup,” which has no specific recipe and has everything in it. It was nice to make a specific kind of soup from a recipe. It seemed extremely full of chicken even with the reduced quantity. The tomatillos added a nice flavor. It was a very comforting dish; a Mexican version of chicken noodle soup? This soup was very hearty but seemed very healthy at the same time, had great if somewhat muted flavors, and provided lots of leftovers
The bad: It seemed like this soup took forever to make, mostly because I work more slowly when making a new recipe, was paranoid about working with raw chicken and had to switch knives, had to scrub after chopping the garlic and again after chopping the jalapenos, etc. The proportions seemed a little odd, but I’m not sure in what way – maybe just that the chicken kind of floated, the hominy kind of sank, and everything else seemed to get lost. It didn’t seem spicy at all aside from a nice tomatillo whang, and I would have used more garlic, more onion, and more jalapenos next time. We both felt like it needed something, perhaps beans or more veggies? Bell peppers?
We had cornbread on the side for a yummy bonus.
Even though I’d bough cilantro, we skipped it because, by the time the soup was finished, I was tired of standing around waiting for soup and didn’t want to rinse and chop anything else. We’ll probably have it with the leftovers tonight. I didn’t serve it with lime wedges or sour cream because I didn’t want to buy either one just for this. If you could purchase sour cream in two-tablespoonful-packages, I would!
Verdict: I’m not totally sure I felt like it was worth the prep work, especially dealing with chicken, which totally grosses me out. Your response to chicken may vary. When it was done, though, the chicken was nice and flavorful. I would totally eat this in a restaurant if available, or make it on a weekend instead of weeknight.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
U2, human nature, hope, and stuff
When I was younger, I was a raging optimist. Well, with qualifiers. I guess I didn’t think things would be okay for everyone, or for the whole world, but everything always worked out okay for me personally. I wouldn't change a thing. When I got my heart broken, I cherished the pre-heartbreak experience and tried to look at the whole thing as a learning experience. When I wasn’t sure what path to take, I tried to relax, secure in the belief that things would pretty much be okay for me if I listened to my heart, or to my gut (most of my other organs are smarter than my brain, with the possible exceptions of my lungs (asthma) and my appendix, which committed suicide).
When I got out of college and had to live, though, I started to feel differently. Paying for college left me flat broke, and starter-level salaries didn’t do anything to improve my situation. I lived in small, sad, telephoneless apartments, learned what “Murphy beds” were, accumulated debt, and tended to despair. Over the years, I came to believe that life was a frustrating sequence of mindless tedium punctuated by refreshing periods of bleak despair. Unless you’re rich, or have a much bolder personality than I do, you’re pretty much going to drag yourself to work, drag yourself home, and most likely plant yourself on the couch with a bag of Fat Rind and wait for oblivion while trembling in fear at the thought of your retirement budget. You get less and less healthy and realize gradually that not only do you have no idea how to accomplish any of your youthful dreams, but you hardly even have dreams any more. Your life slips away, and you miss large chunks of it, and then there’s nothing.
I don’t mean to drive anyone to despair with reading this, but hey, it’s been a long winter!
Anyway. One of the things that’s always helped me out a little has been music. My parents were uninterested in music, for the most part. Occasionally my mom would listen to the gospel station while ironing, but otherwise the radio was used to find out whether we had a snow day from school. They didn’t own a stereo, didn’t listen to records, didn’t sing in the church choir, didn’t attend my high school band concerts – nothing. To this day, my mother will set out on a road trip and never turn on the radio.
What saved me from a musicless existence was really my big sister. We shared a room and she had an old pink radio that got better reception if you piled things on top of it. Three cheers for 1970s album-rock A.M. radio. From earliest memory, the Beatles, Queen, and, God forbid, Black Betty (blam-a-lam) were my companions.
Unlike my husband – whose parents both liked music, and whose father in particular accumulated albums by the score – I feel like I had to start from scratch in my popular music education. In many ways, I feel like I’m still struggling to catch up, but it’s a labor of love. I listen to music every day; I subscribe to a number of concert listing e-mail services. It’s a passion.
I’m the type to rebut political speeches on TV with side remarks along the lines of “yeah, right” or “sure, if you don’t count THOSE civilian deaths” or cheery remarks of that nature. I’m not as intelligently cynical as many of my coworkers in the news industry, but I have a pretty low opinion of human nature.
Except at U2 concerts.
It’s impossible to be cynical at a U2 show.
When I go to a U2 show, I get a general admission ticket, if possible. U2 always charges less for floor – remember when you’re sitting in those $200 seats that the people on the ground paid a quarter as much to be much closer. What that means, though, is a lot more work getting there. For the Vertigo tour, we tried to get to the venue around 6 or 7 in the morning. For the current stadium tour, it’s more like 5 – and that’s just me, just the lazy, same-day experience; the best I’ve ever gotten with that is around 25th in line, and for that I had to stop by the stadium the night before and be numbered. So, travel to a strange city, stay in a hotel, get up around 4 a.m., rush to get ready and assemble your daylong needs – money, camera, ticket, food, water – grab a cab, get in line, and wait. And wait. And wait. If you’re lucky, you can grab a few Zs. Depending on the weather, you might be uncomfortable; you’ll almost certainly be uncomfortable depending on where you’re sitting. Starbucks isn’t even open yet. You spend the day pacing yourself. I know I need to eat and drink – some folks tough it out, but I’m too old for that. You might need sunscreen and a hat, or rain poncho, or even long underwear. Toward mid-afternoon you have to regulate your liquid intake and output – remember, you’re going to be unable to leave the line, and inside the stadium and probably unable to leave your post, from maybe 4 or 5 to about 10 p.m. By the time you enter the venue, you’ve been in line for 12 hours. Hungry, thirsty, sleepy, oh so tired. And you still have to run, run toward the stage and hope for a spot at the railing, and then wait while the setup gets finished, and wait through the opening band (usually bad), and wait during the set break. And then.
I do it for those couple of solid hours completely free of cynicism and anger. Free of criticism and negativity. Just me and 50,000 or so of my closest friends. Maybe this is the kind of ecstasy that charismatic church members feel, the shared passion and uplift. Something to believe in. Me and my kind, jumping up and down to “Until the End of the World.” Screaming to “Vertigo.” Crying during “MLK” and “Walk On.” Raising our hands and vowing to sign, to vote, to click, to text, to help, to hope. Hoping together that group passion can translate to group power; believing in it, for the moment. Impossible to be negative. Things that make you cringe later on the bootleg, or on the DVD – you believe in them utterly in the moment. No political speech seems overly long or out of place, no appeal to act seems misguided or wrong. It’s all the same thing, the same experience. It’s not jarring, not intrusive, it’s part of the experience. Because you believe.
I’ll be a gloomy cynic again soon enough.
When I got out of college and had to live, though, I started to feel differently. Paying for college left me flat broke, and starter-level salaries didn’t do anything to improve my situation. I lived in small, sad, telephoneless apartments, learned what “Murphy beds” were, accumulated debt, and tended to despair. Over the years, I came to believe that life was a frustrating sequence of mindless tedium punctuated by refreshing periods of bleak despair. Unless you’re rich, or have a much bolder personality than I do, you’re pretty much going to drag yourself to work, drag yourself home, and most likely plant yourself on the couch with a bag of Fat Rind and wait for oblivion while trembling in fear at the thought of your retirement budget. You get less and less healthy and realize gradually that not only do you have no idea how to accomplish any of your youthful dreams, but you hardly even have dreams any more. Your life slips away, and you miss large chunks of it, and then there’s nothing.
I don’t mean to drive anyone to despair with reading this, but hey, it’s been a long winter!
Anyway. One of the things that’s always helped me out a little has been music. My parents were uninterested in music, for the most part. Occasionally my mom would listen to the gospel station while ironing, but otherwise the radio was used to find out whether we had a snow day from school. They didn’t own a stereo, didn’t listen to records, didn’t sing in the church choir, didn’t attend my high school band concerts – nothing. To this day, my mother will set out on a road trip and never turn on the radio.
What saved me from a musicless existence was really my big sister. We shared a room and she had an old pink radio that got better reception if you piled things on top of it. Three cheers for 1970s album-rock A.M. radio. From earliest memory, the Beatles, Queen, and, God forbid, Black Betty (blam-a-lam) were my companions.
Unlike my husband – whose parents both liked music, and whose father in particular accumulated albums by the score – I feel like I had to start from scratch in my popular music education. In many ways, I feel like I’m still struggling to catch up, but it’s a labor of love. I listen to music every day; I subscribe to a number of concert listing e-mail services. It’s a passion.
I’m the type to rebut political speeches on TV with side remarks along the lines of “yeah, right” or “sure, if you don’t count THOSE civilian deaths” or cheery remarks of that nature. I’m not as intelligently cynical as many of my coworkers in the news industry, but I have a pretty low opinion of human nature.
Except at U2 concerts.
It’s impossible to be cynical at a U2 show.
When I go to a U2 show, I get a general admission ticket, if possible. U2 always charges less for floor – remember when you’re sitting in those $200 seats that the people on the ground paid a quarter as much to be much closer. What that means, though, is a lot more work getting there. For the Vertigo tour, we tried to get to the venue around 6 or 7 in the morning. For the current stadium tour, it’s more like 5 – and that’s just me, just the lazy, same-day experience; the best I’ve ever gotten with that is around 25th in line, and for that I had to stop by the stadium the night before and be numbered. So, travel to a strange city, stay in a hotel, get up around 4 a.m., rush to get ready and assemble your daylong needs – money, camera, ticket, food, water – grab a cab, get in line, and wait. And wait. And wait. If you’re lucky, you can grab a few Zs. Depending on the weather, you might be uncomfortable; you’ll almost certainly be uncomfortable depending on where you’re sitting. Starbucks isn’t even open yet. You spend the day pacing yourself. I know I need to eat and drink – some folks tough it out, but I’m too old for that. You might need sunscreen and a hat, or rain poncho, or even long underwear. Toward mid-afternoon you have to regulate your liquid intake and output – remember, you’re going to be unable to leave the line, and inside the stadium and probably unable to leave your post, from maybe 4 or 5 to about 10 p.m. By the time you enter the venue, you’ve been in line for 12 hours. Hungry, thirsty, sleepy, oh so tired. And you still have to run, run toward the stage and hope for a spot at the railing, and then wait while the setup gets finished, and wait through the opening band (usually bad), and wait during the set break. And then.
I do it for those couple of solid hours completely free of cynicism and anger. Free of criticism and negativity. Just me and 50,000 or so of my closest friends. Maybe this is the kind of ecstasy that charismatic church members feel, the shared passion and uplift. Something to believe in. Me and my kind, jumping up and down to “Until the End of the World.” Screaming to “Vertigo.” Crying during “MLK” and “Walk On.” Raising our hands and vowing to sign, to vote, to click, to text, to help, to hope. Hoping together that group passion can translate to group power; believing in it, for the moment. Impossible to be negative. Things that make you cringe later on the bootleg, or on the DVD – you believe in them utterly in the moment. No political speech seems overly long or out of place, no appeal to act seems misguided or wrong. It’s all the same thing, the same experience. It’s not jarring, not intrusive, it’s part of the experience. Because you believe.
I’ll be a gloomy cynic again soon enough.
Monday, March 07, 2011
Recipe: black bean dip
We needed a large snack over the weekend, and I made this could-have-been-better but very simple bean dip.
1. I medium-small chopped a medium-small onion and sautéed it in a pan with olive oil plus salt, pepper, and dashes of garlic powder, chili powder, cumin and parsley.
2. While the onion softened, I mostly drained a can of organic black beans just using the lid, poured the can in a bowl, and rinsed the can with a couple of tablespoons of water and added that to the bowl. Then I mashed up the beans with the back of a heavy spoon, not worrying about getting all the beans or how well they got mashed up. I started out using a fork, but it wasn’t getting the job done.
3. I added the beans to the pan with onions and continued cooking medium-low until the beans were hot and bubbly, stirring well to incorporate the onions and adjusting the seasonings and adding some ‘Louisiana’ spice blend. At the last minute I stirred in a toss or two of shredded cheddar, which was enough to make it gooier but not enough to make it too cheesy or stringy.
4. Poured it in a bowl, scooped up with organic blue corn chips. The two of us ate the whole thing.
The good: easy, inexpensive, had the ingredients on hand, relatively healthy, hearty.
The bad: underseasoned, needed something.
We didn’t have jalapenos, sour cream (which we NEVER have on hand), or even bell peppers on hand; the dip needed a whang. The beans sucked up all the salt and even the cumin and chili powder even though I re-seasoned a couple of times while heating. Husband was surprised to hear that there was a whole onion in it; they kind of disappeared too even though I tried not to make them too soft. Maybe I could have saved a handful of raw onions to add at the end.
Verdict: Would try again with some adjustments.
1. I medium-small chopped a medium-small onion and sautéed it in a pan with olive oil plus salt, pepper, and dashes of garlic powder, chili powder, cumin and parsley.
2. While the onion softened, I mostly drained a can of organic black beans just using the lid, poured the can in a bowl, and rinsed the can with a couple of tablespoons of water and added that to the bowl. Then I mashed up the beans with the back of a heavy spoon, not worrying about getting all the beans or how well they got mashed up. I started out using a fork, but it wasn’t getting the job done.
3. I added the beans to the pan with onions and continued cooking medium-low until the beans were hot and bubbly, stirring well to incorporate the onions and adjusting the seasonings and adding some ‘Louisiana’ spice blend. At the last minute I stirred in a toss or two of shredded cheddar, which was enough to make it gooier but not enough to make it too cheesy or stringy.
4. Poured it in a bowl, scooped up with organic blue corn chips. The two of us ate the whole thing.
The good: easy, inexpensive, had the ingredients on hand, relatively healthy, hearty.
The bad: underseasoned, needed something.
We didn’t have jalapenos, sour cream (which we NEVER have on hand), or even bell peppers on hand; the dip needed a whang. The beans sucked up all the salt and even the cumin and chili powder even though I re-seasoned a couple of times while heating. Husband was surprised to hear that there was a whole onion in it; they kind of disappeared too even though I tried not to make them too soft. Maybe I could have saved a handful of raw onions to add at the end.
Verdict: Would try again with some adjustments.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Weird childhood memories
For some reason I was just thinking about the time I sprained my ankle.
I know, totally mundane. I was lucky enough to live a largely injury-free childhood apart from the usual skinned knees and elbows, so this event was pretty significant to me. I’m not sure how old I was, but I’m thinking probably fourth or fifth grade. We were called in from recess and I was running to get in line, and wham! Got up, hopped to the line, realized my foot wasn’t working, got sent to the nurse’s office.
I remember that a man was in the nurse’s office chatting with her – not a teacher, who I would have recognized, so maybe a janitor or something? The nurse moved my foot around, and it hurt like hell, and I made little “ow” sounds, and the guy mocked me. Um, thanks a lot, why are you even in here? (Remember how kids didn’t have rights? It wasn’t any use to complain, no matter how much injustice you felt.)
Anyway, the nurse thought nothing was broken and wrapped it up, and I remember for a few days I couldn’t put any weight on it. My big brother carried me between the school bus and house, and my teacher assigned a couple of other kids to help me – I had to lean on someone while hopping to, you know, music class or whatever, and a couple of helpers and I got to leave for lunch a couple of minutes early because I was slow. I remember waking up every morning trying to flex it a little, or tentatively putting my foot to the floor to see if it could bear any weight yet.
In retrospect, I can’t help but wonder why my parents didn’t take me to the doctor or something. Crutches would have made my life SO much easier for those days. Jesus Christ, people. I’m hopping around on one foot for the greater part of a week! A little help here? Thanks for nothin’!
Which is the general feeling I have when I think about being a kid, really – thanks for nothin’, you know?
Seriously. You gotta laugh.
I know, totally mundane. I was lucky enough to live a largely injury-free childhood apart from the usual skinned knees and elbows, so this event was pretty significant to me. I’m not sure how old I was, but I’m thinking probably fourth or fifth grade. We were called in from recess and I was running to get in line, and wham! Got up, hopped to the line, realized my foot wasn’t working, got sent to the nurse’s office.
I remember that a man was in the nurse’s office chatting with her – not a teacher, who I would have recognized, so maybe a janitor or something? The nurse moved my foot around, and it hurt like hell, and I made little “ow” sounds, and the guy mocked me. Um, thanks a lot, why are you even in here? (Remember how kids didn’t have rights? It wasn’t any use to complain, no matter how much injustice you felt.)
Anyway, the nurse thought nothing was broken and wrapped it up, and I remember for a few days I couldn’t put any weight on it. My big brother carried me between the school bus and house, and my teacher assigned a couple of other kids to help me – I had to lean on someone while hopping to, you know, music class or whatever, and a couple of helpers and I got to leave for lunch a couple of minutes early because I was slow. I remember waking up every morning trying to flex it a little, or tentatively putting my foot to the floor to see if it could bear any weight yet.
In retrospect, I can’t help but wonder why my parents didn’t take me to the doctor or something. Crutches would have made my life SO much easier for those days. Jesus Christ, people. I’m hopping around on one foot for the greater part of a week! A little help here? Thanks for nothin’!
Which is the general feeling I have when I think about being a kid, really – thanks for nothin’, you know?
Seriously. You gotta laugh.
Friday, January 07, 2011
Unrefrigerated madness
Yesterday my husband took the afternoon off work so he could be home for a refrigerator delivery. He came home at noon, shut our cat in the bedroom, and waited.
Going on 5:00, they called to alert him that they were on the way. Fifteen minutes later, they called asking why nobody was home – apparently our landlord who owns our house sent them to the wrong address entirely.
When they finally got to our house – or, rather, when he got to our place – and discovered that our stairs have a turn or two in them, he said that he can singlehandedly deliver refrigerators up stairs that do not have turns in them, but help is required for fancy stairs. Strangely, although he called for help, none of his coworkers were willing to respond.
They’re allegedly coming back Saturday, at which point we will have been without a fridge for going on a week. We called our landlord about this last Sunday. I am really angry about this – and I’m not even the one who sat around all afternoon for no reason while work piled up at my office, or the one who was shut into the bedroom all afternoon for no reason. ARGH.
Next time any appliance goes down, I’m just going to leave town. It’s easier.
Going on 5:00, they called to alert him that they were on the way. Fifteen minutes later, they called asking why nobody was home – apparently our landlord who owns our house sent them to the wrong address entirely.
When they finally got to our house – or, rather, when he got to our place – and discovered that our stairs have a turn or two in them, he said that he can singlehandedly deliver refrigerators up stairs that do not have turns in them, but help is required for fancy stairs. Strangely, although he called for help, none of his coworkers were willing to respond.
They’re allegedly coming back Saturday, at which point we will have been without a fridge for going on a week. We called our landlord about this last Sunday. I am really angry about this – and I’m not even the one who sat around all afternoon for no reason while work piled up at my office, or the one who was shut into the bedroom all afternoon for no reason. ARGH.
Next time any appliance goes down, I’m just going to leave town. It’s easier.
Thursday, September 16, 2010
The Edge
A friend of mine turned me on to this compilation: ten minutes of various guitar solos by The Edge. enjoy.
Tuesday, September 07, 2010
We saw Rush a few weeks ago in St. Louis, and it was one of those concerts you keep talking about for a while. Unbelievably, it was my first Rush show. We decided kind of late in the game that we'd go - let me tell you, next year, we're springing for good seats if I have anything to say about it. Which I kind of do.
Not a lot of shows coming up for the rest of the year. Drive By Truckers at the beginning of October, and Roger Waters at the end of October. I really feel like seeing Wilco - when is that not true, of course?
THIS weekend, a quick overnight to Chicago to meet up with a friend I don't get to see very often. Fun!
Not a lot of shows coming up for the rest of the year. Drive By Truckers at the beginning of October, and Roger Waters at the end of October. I really feel like seeing Wilco - when is that not true, of course?
THIS weekend, a quick overnight to Chicago to meet up with a friend I don't get to see very often. Fun!
Monday, July 12, 2010
Jason Isbell & the 400 Unit, 7/10/10
Here's the setlist from Jason Isbell's set at the Taste of Downtown Saturday:
Grown
Decoration Day
Streetlights
Dock of the Bay
Try
Goddamn Lonely Love
Psycho Killer
Outfit
7 Mile Island
Hurricanes & Hand Grenades
American Girl (Tom Petty)
Dress Blues
Never Gonna Change
Danko/Manuel (I got my wish!)
(encore)
Instrumental
Atlantic City (Bruuuuuce)
I thought the show was great. First of all, it's so nice, and so rare, to see an actual touring band I'm really a fan of, of Jason Isbell's caliber, here in Springfield. For me, the setlist was great - a lot of my favorite of his Truckers songs and a lot of my favorite of his solo work. Got tears in my eyes during "Dress Blues." Also loved their version of Atlantic City - I thought it rocked it up nicely while retaining the song's essential mood.
Also, at one point while jamming, they broke into a riff that sounded really, really familiar, but we couldn't place it until the next day when my husband said, "That was Wilco!" It was the breakout riff from Spiders (Kidsmoke), I'm pretty sure! That was a hoot.
Jason was really gracious - as always; we've actually met him twice before, briefly, and he's always quite gracious. We hung around for a minute afterward to say hi, and he was pleasant and accommodating to many people before us, and to us as well. We heard him say he was going to the Brewhaus afterward, but, let's face it, we were totally done in by that point. Had a blast.
Flickr set here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157624354662443/
Grown
Decoration Day
Streetlights
Dock of the Bay
Try
Goddamn Lonely Love
Psycho Killer
Outfit
7 Mile Island
Hurricanes & Hand Grenades
American Girl (Tom Petty)
Dress Blues
Never Gonna Change
Danko/Manuel (I got my wish!)
(encore)
Instrumental
Atlantic City (Bruuuuuce)
I thought the show was great. First of all, it's so nice, and so rare, to see an actual touring band I'm really a fan of, of Jason Isbell's caliber, here in Springfield. For me, the setlist was great - a lot of my favorite of his Truckers songs and a lot of my favorite of his solo work. Got tears in my eyes during "Dress Blues." Also loved their version of Atlantic City - I thought it rocked it up nicely while retaining the song's essential mood.
Also, at one point while jamming, they broke into a riff that sounded really, really familiar, but we couldn't place it until the next day when my husband said, "That was Wilco!" It was the breakout riff from Spiders (Kidsmoke), I'm pretty sure! That was a hoot.
Jason was really gracious - as always; we've actually met him twice before, briefly, and he's always quite gracious. We hung around for a minute afterward to say hi, and he was pleasant and accommodating to many people before us, and to us as well. We heard him say he was going to the Brewhaus afterward, but, let's face it, we were totally done in by that point. Had a blast.
Flickr set here: http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157624354662443/
Wednesday, June 23, 2010
Woefully neglectful blogger is woefully neglectful
Yes, it's true. So this spring we went to Rodrigo y Gabriela and Mark Knopfler in St. Louis and the Drive By Truckers in Chicago. All were a blast, although we had the misfortune to be next to Continually Shrieking Girl at Rod y Gab, and honestly, while ideally everyone would enjoy themselves at a show, this jerkwad nearly ruined it for us. I would cheerfully see her dead. The show, though, was great.
Coming up, we have the third Crossroads Guitar Festival in Chicago and Jason Isbell right here at the Taste of Downtown in July. The big news for me was the postponement of the next U.S. leg of the U2 tour because Bono hurt his back and had to have emergency surgery; the leg would have started already, and my show would have been July 6. However, I'm not too heartbroken about the whole thing, because I prefer anticipation to "oh, no, it's over already." Now my next U2 show is still ahead by a good stretch.
Coming up, we have the third Crossroads Guitar Festival in Chicago and Jason Isbell right here at the Taste of Downtown in July. The big news for me was the postponement of the next U.S. leg of the U2 tour because Bono hurt his back and had to have emergency surgery; the leg would have started already, and my show would have been July 6. However, I'm not too heartbroken about the whole thing, because I prefer anticipation to "oh, no, it's over already." Now my next U2 show is still ahead by a good stretch.
Wednesday, December 02, 2009
Bellefontaine Cemetery, STL
While we were in St. Louis last month J indulged me and we went to Bellefontaine Cemetery on Nov. 6. I really just wanted to see William S. Burroughs' grave - he was from St. Louis - but the cemetery office had a map and informative guidebook, the suggested route through the cemetery was easy to follow and made sense, and it was a lovely day, so we ended up spending at least a couple of hours. It was a gorgeous fall day and we saw a lot of interesting stuff.
I hadn't seen families gathered in a circle this way.
I love cemetery statuary; if I had more time on my hands I'd totally study up on it.
This is the top of Augustus Busch's tomb (of Anheuser-Busch)
William Clark (of Lewis and Clark fame)
I love this kind of stuff.
at last:
Plain, simple, looks like most of the gravestones in my family, actually. For the record, William S. Burroughs the writer wasn't mentioned in the guidebook. His grandfather, William S. Burroughs, right next to him, was the advertised William S. Burroughs.
How's that for an epitaph?
Grandfather on the left, WSB the writer on the right.
WSB had at least nine lives, like Keith Richards, and for many of the same reasons. I can hear his voice clearly in my head - but not that of, say, my late father, whose voice I doubt I'd recognize. That's pop culture for ya.
It was a neat day at the cemetery, though; I'm glad we went. Lots more pictures in my flickr set here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622796491582/
You can see lots of ladybugs dotting the statuary in many of 'em.
I hadn't seen families gathered in a circle this way.
I love cemetery statuary; if I had more time on my hands I'd totally study up on it.
This is the top of Augustus Busch's tomb (of Anheuser-Busch)
William Clark (of Lewis and Clark fame)
I love this kind of stuff.
at last:
Plain, simple, looks like most of the gravestones in my family, actually. For the record, William S. Burroughs the writer wasn't mentioned in the guidebook. His grandfather, William S. Burroughs, right next to him, was the advertised William S. Burroughs.
How's that for an epitaph?
Grandfather on the left, WSB the writer on the right.
WSB had at least nine lives, like Keith Richards, and for many of the same reasons. I can hear his voice clearly in my head - but not that of, say, my late father, whose voice I doubt I'd recognize. That's pop culture for ya.
It was a neat day at the cemetery, though; I'm glad we went. Lots more pictures in my flickr set here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622796491582/
You can see lots of ladybugs dotting the statuary in many of 'em.
Tuesday, November 03, 2009
U2 Washington, DC, part 2
Anyway, I knew it would be okay, because our numbers were good and the line was really pretty orderly and calm all day. A really good line. Nevertheless, you get that late afternoon panic disorder syndrome sometimes. Or at least I do. Getting to the venue and then the final final final lineup are big major stress points for me! But E. and I talked about where to be, and we decided on outer rail, and I selfishly hoped we’d be able to be more left on Edge’s side because I never get to be on Edge’s side, but center would be totally great too because E is a big Bono fan too, but of course on the third hand anywhere on outer rail is awesome, right? Right. We were both breathing into paper bags, though, you know how it is.
Eventually they started to move a first group of us to the turnstile area. The security people letting us into that next area used our lineup numbers to kind of regulate how many of us there were, which was great. However, and this is as hilarious to me in retrospect as I’d hoped, as they let us in I like turned my ankle or something and took a mighty tumble. I’m BEYOND lucky that I didn’t actually injure myself or break my camera! It was totally in SLO-MO as I kind of staggered forward trying to get my balance, but momentum won, and I went down fairly hard, knees, then hands, then (oh shit no) I bumped my face on the pavement a pretty good one, too. Luckily I only got from it a skinned knee, some great bruises, sore hand-heels for half an hour, and a sore nose for a few days. MANY people asked me if I was all right, which was awesome, AND since we were so near the front I totally didn’t harm my place in line much by it. E. ended up in the line next to my line, and once she made sure I was okay she was like “Dude, I looked over and you were DOWN.” Secretly I was kind of hoping for a black eye – I bumped my brow, nose, mouth – so at work I could be all ‘totally got a shiner in the pit at the show, losers,’ but to no avail. Hah.
Anyway, then of course it was stand and wait there, too. One security guy told us that he THOUGHT we’d go in and turn left and come out behind the stage – which I thought was weird – and another guy kind of counted down the minutes, telling us we had nine minutes, four minutes – then after it was time, of course, another five or so. God, the tension, you know? Finally what did it was E. asked me for a Tic Tac, and when I passed them to her, it was GO TIME. Scan, in, mob, pack, go left, wait, jam into the usual tunnel, shuffle shuffle, hold up your ticket and wristband, GO. Down steps I did not fall down (been there, fell down that!), and I felt really disoriented for a minute; we weren’t behind the stage, we were in the adam-side corner at the back of the field, LOTS of security, so we hardly even were running. Speed walk speed walk, I headed for the middle, and there was E just ahead of me, heading a bit left, looking at me for confirmation, and WE ARE THERE, rail, Edge side, exactly at the corner before where the rail starts to slope away. Perfection!! Just what I wanted.
I felt like FedEx Field was much smaller than Soldier Field, it seemed like such a short run, but E. said FedEx is actually one of the largest football stadiums. Perhaps it’s because my last memory of entering Soldier Field is running down the whole field and THEN all the way around and into the pit, which is a lot further than just to the rail. Anyway, at that point every anxiety had been hurdled and it was time to just generally freak out. I sat down for just a bit, but not a lot of people were, which makes it awkward, and the douche next to me at the rail seemed to think he could hold like five spaces for people who “should be here in like half an hour,” and E. was too psyched to sit, so there we were, looking around.
And let me tell you, my brothers, it was, once again, wonderful. Watching the field fill up, eventually people coming into the stands, the crews at work. You know how security usually kind of ignores you and like pretends they’re in the military? Our security actually greeted US and was all “how you-all doing this evening?” and we started chatting and found out that all the numerous young, wiry guys at rail security were in fact Marines – I’m not sure if they were getting extra credit or something, but they were so great and so polite. They took a jillion pictures of people for them, “Ma’am”-ed us to no end, had all kinds of conversation, gave each other a hard time, and generally were Dear Boys Far From Home and all that. One from Atlanta, we talked baseball for a few minutes; one from Detroit; I don’t even remember. One of them was telling us how they had some kind of special muster or something and President Obama came to it and shook his hand. So of course I stuck out MY hand and shook HIS hand, and that was kind of cool. They were telling us stories about training and trying to sleep all piled up like frozen puppies in the snow and Quantico and trying to get an Embassy post and hoping for Ireland. Not big U2 fans, but one of them was like “Oh MAN!! MUSE is opening?? Really??” Crack me up. They were a welcome distraction, too, because it was getting pretty cold and windy about then! Brrrrrt.
So we waited and we waited and Muse came and went and we were freezing and shivering and everything. Then it was Energy Drink and SoyJoy Bar time, and I’d managed an extra soyjoy for E., although she’d had her own energy drink earlier in line out of search-fear. The search wasn’t much, though, and besides two food bars and an energy shot, I had the lifesaving bottle of water too, so whew. During the break they fixed one of the light panels that had been on the fritz during Muse; we’d speculated whether they would.
Then, finally, finally the Bowie and the smoke and the hooting and the anticipation and suddenly I forgot to be cold for the next couple of hours and it was TIME. Happy happy happy. E.and I jumped up and down and sang and yelled and shrieked and perhaps wiped away a tear every now and then. One of my early favorite moments was when the bridges started moving for the first time, and gradually … swung … toward us … and stopped. Right in front of us. Our eyes were like saucers. I think E. thought I’d somehow known that THAT was the precise spot, but of course I hadn’t; my geography was shaky. I’d HOPED, yes, I admit to that; I knew where I’d been in Chicago, and adjusted my rail goal a bit, accordingly, but I never thought it would work out so well. For once I could see Edge really well for most of the show:
And Bono, well, and everyone, really. Great views the whole time. Larry stopped right in front of us for the djembe section; actually too close for good pictures, so I stopped trying and just enjoyed it!
A great view afterward of Larry running back to his kit, making an accurate and athletic throw (of the djembe) to his tech.
And as much as we enjoyed everything, and as amazing as Adam was again as always, I think the high point for both of us had to be when Bono came and knelt pretty much in front of E. and rocked back and forth and sang and was there for like A WHILE.
I’ve never been to a show with quite so much paramedic activity. Someone worked their way to the rail quite near us (because they felt ill) and promptly fainted. And those 100 pound 19 year old Marines turned out to be prompt, decisive, and very fast, let me tell you. Someone else went down behind us somewhere. At one point there was a hubbub off to the left and one of the Marines told us that a couple had gotten engaged over there! Can you imagine? And there was even what rumor held to be something of a domestic disturbance not that far from us either. I mean, really.
But I mustn’t forget to mention that Bono gestured down to someone who was trying to toss him an American flag, and got his hands on that, and then pulled Amp – remember him from earlier? – up on stage, and gave him the flag, and there was singing and dancing and some devil horns and flag-waving and general useful symbolism
and at the end Amp and Bono hugged and – remember that morning? About snubbing Bono and stuff? Well, E. and I were laughing our butts off, but who among us is above that kind of participating? Dude, not me.
Also even though we were further from Adam this time and I got fewer good pics of him, here is one, just to prove I still love him too.
Anyway, amazing again. Brilliant again. Uplifting again. Funny and moving and solemn and marvelous again. I’m sorry I thought the Ang Saang Suu Kyii masks were creepy before I saw what actually happened with them live, by the way. As always, everything’s cool with me!
Afterward we ‘omg omg omg’ for a while and watched one of our security guards take a ride on one of the bridges (wheee!). This is how awesome they were; a number of people (including us) waited afterward to say goodbye and shake some of their hands.
After, E. and I found our way out to the loading docks; the first one just didn’t feel very promising, but there were already a few fans hanging out at the other one, so we staked a spot out there and tried to see what was what. Earlier in the day I’d been talking to a security person who’d told me that the band was going to do a runner straight to the airport after, but of course I’m always skeptical. But the ring road around the stadium was packed with pedestrians and buses and trucks and people leaving. So either they were already gone, or else it would be a couple of hours. While we waited, Amp showed up, and I couldn’t resist hassling him. “Oh, screw YOU, Bono,” etc. and to his credit he just laughed and said, “Yeah, I sold out!” Someone else recognized him as the guy who’d been onstage and asked to take a picture with him, and I didn’t hear what they said, but I heard him answer, “Yeah, I gave him some man love.” Crack me UP.
After a while, with busy traffic and staff and security and traffic and paramedics leaving and everything, we talked it over and mutually agreed that, while meeting them would be awesome, it was going to be a long wait to even find out if there was a chance, and we had a “mile” walk in the dark back to the car in the highest crime county in the country, and it might be smart to take that walk while there were still plenty of people around. So that’s what we did, with a lot less gear to haul this time.
And the gates were open to exit the parking lot, meaning my friend didn’t have to swipe her card, meaning we didn’t have to pay! And we hooted and giggled and babbled all the way home, and again, the advantages of being in a real house – microwaved leftovers afterward, and the chance to look at pictures immediately. And all manner of things were well.
Complete Flickr set here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622415023943/
Set list:
Breathe
Magnificent
Get On Your Boots
Mysterious Ways
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Your Blue Room, Beautiful Day
New Year's Day
Stuck In A Moment
The Unforgettable Fire
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight (remix)
Sunday Bloody Sunday
MLK
Walk On
Encore1
One
Amazing Grace
Where the Streets Have No Name
Encore 2
Ultraviolet
With or Without You
Moment of Surrender
(just remembered that I didn’t put set lists in my previous posts, so I’m gonna go back and add them in a bit.)
Eventually they started to move a first group of us to the turnstile area. The security people letting us into that next area used our lineup numbers to kind of regulate how many of us there were, which was great. However, and this is as hilarious to me in retrospect as I’d hoped, as they let us in I like turned my ankle or something and took a mighty tumble. I’m BEYOND lucky that I didn’t actually injure myself or break my camera! It was totally in SLO-MO as I kind of staggered forward trying to get my balance, but momentum won, and I went down fairly hard, knees, then hands, then (oh shit no) I bumped my face on the pavement a pretty good one, too. Luckily I only got from it a skinned knee, some great bruises, sore hand-heels for half an hour, and a sore nose for a few days. MANY people asked me if I was all right, which was awesome, AND since we were so near the front I totally didn’t harm my place in line much by it. E. ended up in the line next to my line, and once she made sure I was okay she was like “Dude, I looked over and you were DOWN.” Secretly I was kind of hoping for a black eye – I bumped my brow, nose, mouth – so at work I could be all ‘totally got a shiner in the pit at the show, losers,’ but to no avail. Hah.
Anyway, then of course it was stand and wait there, too. One security guy told us that he THOUGHT we’d go in and turn left and come out behind the stage – which I thought was weird – and another guy kind of counted down the minutes, telling us we had nine minutes, four minutes – then after it was time, of course, another five or so. God, the tension, you know? Finally what did it was E. asked me for a Tic Tac, and when I passed them to her, it was GO TIME. Scan, in, mob, pack, go left, wait, jam into the usual tunnel, shuffle shuffle, hold up your ticket and wristband, GO. Down steps I did not fall down (been there, fell down that!), and I felt really disoriented for a minute; we weren’t behind the stage, we were in the adam-side corner at the back of the field, LOTS of security, so we hardly even were running. Speed walk speed walk, I headed for the middle, and there was E just ahead of me, heading a bit left, looking at me for confirmation, and WE ARE THERE, rail, Edge side, exactly at the corner before where the rail starts to slope away. Perfection!! Just what I wanted.
I felt like FedEx Field was much smaller than Soldier Field, it seemed like such a short run, but E. said FedEx is actually one of the largest football stadiums. Perhaps it’s because my last memory of entering Soldier Field is running down the whole field and THEN all the way around and into the pit, which is a lot further than just to the rail. Anyway, at that point every anxiety had been hurdled and it was time to just generally freak out. I sat down for just a bit, but not a lot of people were, which makes it awkward, and the douche next to me at the rail seemed to think he could hold like five spaces for people who “should be here in like half an hour,” and E. was too psyched to sit, so there we were, looking around.
And let me tell you, my brothers, it was, once again, wonderful. Watching the field fill up, eventually people coming into the stands, the crews at work. You know how security usually kind of ignores you and like pretends they’re in the military? Our security actually greeted US and was all “how you-all doing this evening?” and we started chatting and found out that all the numerous young, wiry guys at rail security were in fact Marines – I’m not sure if they were getting extra credit or something, but they were so great and so polite. They took a jillion pictures of people for them, “Ma’am”-ed us to no end, had all kinds of conversation, gave each other a hard time, and generally were Dear Boys Far From Home and all that. One from Atlanta, we talked baseball for a few minutes; one from Detroit; I don’t even remember. One of them was telling us how they had some kind of special muster or something and President Obama came to it and shook his hand. So of course I stuck out MY hand and shook HIS hand, and that was kind of cool. They were telling us stories about training and trying to sleep all piled up like frozen puppies in the snow and Quantico and trying to get an Embassy post and hoping for Ireland. Not big U2 fans, but one of them was like “Oh MAN!! MUSE is opening?? Really??” Crack me up. They were a welcome distraction, too, because it was getting pretty cold and windy about then! Brrrrrt.
So we waited and we waited and Muse came and went and we were freezing and shivering and everything. Then it was Energy Drink and SoyJoy Bar time, and I’d managed an extra soyjoy for E., although she’d had her own energy drink earlier in line out of search-fear. The search wasn’t much, though, and besides two food bars and an energy shot, I had the lifesaving bottle of water too, so whew. During the break they fixed one of the light panels that had been on the fritz during Muse; we’d speculated whether they would.
Then, finally, finally the Bowie and the smoke and the hooting and the anticipation and suddenly I forgot to be cold for the next couple of hours and it was TIME. Happy happy happy. E.and I jumped up and down and sang and yelled and shrieked and perhaps wiped away a tear every now and then. One of my early favorite moments was when the bridges started moving for the first time, and gradually … swung … toward us … and stopped. Right in front of us. Our eyes were like saucers. I think E. thought I’d somehow known that THAT was the precise spot, but of course I hadn’t; my geography was shaky. I’d HOPED, yes, I admit to that; I knew where I’d been in Chicago, and adjusted my rail goal a bit, accordingly, but I never thought it would work out so well. For once I could see Edge really well for most of the show:
And Bono, well, and everyone, really. Great views the whole time. Larry stopped right in front of us for the djembe section; actually too close for good pictures, so I stopped trying and just enjoyed it!
A great view afterward of Larry running back to his kit, making an accurate and athletic throw (of the djembe) to his tech.
And as much as we enjoyed everything, and as amazing as Adam was again as always, I think the high point for both of us had to be when Bono came and knelt pretty much in front of E. and rocked back and forth and sang and was there for like A WHILE.
I’ve never been to a show with quite so much paramedic activity. Someone worked their way to the rail quite near us (because they felt ill) and promptly fainted. And those 100 pound 19 year old Marines turned out to be prompt, decisive, and very fast, let me tell you. Someone else went down behind us somewhere. At one point there was a hubbub off to the left and one of the Marines told us that a couple had gotten engaged over there! Can you imagine? And there was even what rumor held to be something of a domestic disturbance not that far from us either. I mean, really.
But I mustn’t forget to mention that Bono gestured down to someone who was trying to toss him an American flag, and got his hands on that, and then pulled Amp – remember him from earlier? – up on stage, and gave him the flag, and there was singing and dancing and some devil horns and flag-waving and general useful symbolism
and at the end Amp and Bono hugged and – remember that morning? About snubbing Bono and stuff? Well, E. and I were laughing our butts off, but who among us is above that kind of participating? Dude, not me.
Also even though we were further from Adam this time and I got fewer good pics of him, here is one, just to prove I still love him too.
Anyway, amazing again. Brilliant again. Uplifting again. Funny and moving and solemn and marvelous again. I’m sorry I thought the Ang Saang Suu Kyii masks were creepy before I saw what actually happened with them live, by the way. As always, everything’s cool with me!
Afterward we ‘omg omg omg’ for a while and watched one of our security guards take a ride on one of the bridges (wheee!). This is how awesome they were; a number of people (including us) waited afterward to say goodbye and shake some of their hands.
After, E. and I found our way out to the loading docks; the first one just didn’t feel very promising, but there were already a few fans hanging out at the other one, so we staked a spot out there and tried to see what was what. Earlier in the day I’d been talking to a security person who’d told me that the band was going to do a runner straight to the airport after, but of course I’m always skeptical. But the ring road around the stadium was packed with pedestrians and buses and trucks and people leaving. So either they were already gone, or else it would be a couple of hours. While we waited, Amp showed up, and I couldn’t resist hassling him. “Oh, screw YOU, Bono,” etc. and to his credit he just laughed and said, “Yeah, I sold out!” Someone else recognized him as the guy who’d been onstage and asked to take a picture with him, and I didn’t hear what they said, but I heard him answer, “Yeah, I gave him some man love.” Crack me UP.
After a while, with busy traffic and staff and security and traffic and paramedics leaving and everything, we talked it over and mutually agreed that, while meeting them would be awesome, it was going to be a long wait to even find out if there was a chance, and we had a “mile” walk in the dark back to the car in the highest crime county in the country, and it might be smart to take that walk while there were still plenty of people around. So that’s what we did, with a lot less gear to haul this time.
And the gates were open to exit the parking lot, meaning my friend didn’t have to swipe her card, meaning we didn’t have to pay! And we hooted and giggled and babbled all the way home, and again, the advantages of being in a real house – microwaved leftovers afterward, and the chance to look at pictures immediately. And all manner of things were well.
Complete Flickr set here:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622415023943/
Set list:
Breathe
Magnificent
Get On Your Boots
Mysterious Ways
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Your Blue Room, Beautiful Day
New Year's Day
Stuck In A Moment
The Unforgettable Fire
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight (remix)
Sunday Bloody Sunday
MLK
Walk On
Encore1
One
Amazing Grace
Where the Streets Have No Name
Encore 2
Ultraviolet
With or Without You
Moment of Surrender
(just remembered that I didn’t put set lists in my previous posts, so I’m gonna go back and add them in a bit.)
U2, FedEx Field, Washington, DC, 9/29/09, part 1
Yes, yes, I'm very late. Let's get to it.
I ended up writing a ridiculously long account of my day and night at the show with my friend E., so I'm cutting it into two parts: here's the first half.
On Tuesday 9/29 my friend E. and I went to the U2 show at FedEx Field in Landover, MD (aka the Washington, DC show). We hit the dollar store the night before for snacks and stuff but failed to find those foldy chairs/camp chairs we were looking for. (from what we could tell, neither of us having been to the stadium before, it’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere all by itself – no running across the street to McDonald’s for us, so we had to bring food for the whole day.)
First thing I’m gonna say is that it’s a whole different thing to wake up in someone’s house to get in line. I didn’t have to share the bathroom! AND my friend made us a quick breakfast! It’s very different having some eggs and toast and coffee inside when you’re on the way to it.
We were initially aiming for a bit earlier but got swept up in an epic quest for said chairs. The first couple of stores we hit – drugstore and grocery store – weren’t open, but we finally found one that was; it didn’t have lawn/foldy chairs, but we spotted pet beds and the light bulb went off and we each grabbed one. Better than sitting on concrete all day if it came to that. (In Chicago I was SO stiff and sore the first day.) Then E. saw that they also had milk crates. Pet bed atop milk crate = luxury seating! I admit, I nearly didn’t get a crate for myself, but I’m so glad I did. It was an inspired idea. We were amazingly comfortable all day in our improvised seats, and the crates were handy to carry our stuff TO the stadium in, AND the pet beds made for respectable pillows when we tried to nap later on in the morning.
Anyway, we found the place, and the internet said there was a metro station “less than a mile away” where we planned to park (although it was supposed to be an extra $25 payable on the way out, I believe). We drove past the station on purpose to see if we could get a glimpse or get near the stadium (and, you never know, maybe there was early parking that was open already, or something), but the street was all blocked off and there were a couple of cop cars up there, so we turned around (and we weren’t the only ones) and went back to the parking.
Well. It wasn’t light yet, and it sure seemed like more than a mile to ME. We grabbed our crates and beds and stuff and hiked and hiked. A few joggers passed us, and then one guy passed us, jogging but not a jogger – I knew he was one of us somehow, not dressed like a jogger, had a backpack, etc. It was kind of a deserted area, and even though we were going past normal/nice seeming townhouses, my friend did mention that we were in the county with the highest crime rate in the country. *ulp*
When we got to the grounds, after what seemed like a two-mile hike at least, what with hauling our gear and the early morning haste and pre-line anxiety – the cops/security still had the street closed off a good distance from the stadium, and our jogger was the only person there waiting. So we met him and of course he said there had been a line the night before, etc., but we couldn’t figure out how to get around to consolidate – they wouldn’t let us go TO the stadium, which we’d have to do to get PAST the stadium. We noted our arrival times in case we had to wait there forever, maybe we could try some kind of consolidating later, or something.
Anyway the guy talked to the cops and eventually one of them gave him a ride somewhere, like as the cop went to talk to the other cops – I was kind of confused by this – anyway, so I went and talked to the remaining cop (heat coming out of his car window! Yay!) for awhile and he said they weren’t going to let anyone on the property until – I don’t even remember, until noon? Wasn’t up to him. (he said people kept running over his flares driving up to look, like we had; he’d been through boxes of the things. In fact, I thought I remembered feeling something under the tires, but I kept that to myself.) We talked about it for awhile, and finally the other car came back and said to let us in. WOOT. So my friend and I grabbed our stuff and hustled. A long way, and then around, and then we spotted Jogger again; hmph! Why didn’t the cops give US a ride? It was a long way! A few minutes later the LINE came to join us, with the number people and everything, so we got numbered (wristbands) – my friend and I got 57 and 58, and by that time it was probably quarter till 7:00 at least – and I was like WHEW. I mean, once I get a number, I feel SO much better, you know? Until then I feel like everything’s in doubt.
So we spread down the sidewalk, grass behind us, facing a big empty parking lot and the sun, and the girls behind us offered us blueberry muffins, and we said HELL YEAH to that. It was chilly, but I was giddy at that point, and my friend saw it and totally understood. Once you’re actually on the property, half the anxiety and unknowns and doubt just melt away, right? Ahhhhh. So we had our muffins and they talked about moving the line and taking another roll call and stuff. Some of you probably know the fan named Amp; I didn’t know his name till later, although we’d hung out for a bit in Chicago. (he’s in some of my Chicago pictures, actually.) He came and was talking to the muffin girls, and was totally cracking us up with his rendition of Why I’ve Had It Up To Here With Bono. He said that when they were doing the Letterman stint, he’d been in a fan line with a picture of himself with Bono that he hoped to have autographed, and basically Bono snubbed him somehow, like looked right at him and/or the picture and refrained from signing it even though he was going down the line doing the meet and greet. So Amp was all “Bono is dead to me! I’m here for the other three guys. If I see Bono I’ll just be like ‘Fuck YOU, Bono,’ etc., etc.” It was very funny.
Anyway, after awhile they moved us up steps, onto concrete, and into the cattle chutes, BUT, my friend and I were close enough to the front that we got to be on the end, in the first chute, and that means GRASS. Again. How lucky could we be? I had told E. how everything seemed to work out in Chicago that we were just in the nick of time, if we’d been ten minutes later it would have been too bad, etc., and this was another example of that fine principle coming to fruition. When they moved us up, and when people came into that area throughout the day, that waiting area became a wristband/floor access area; they checked our tix and gave us venue wristbands as we went into the chutes, and then to back-and-forth all day we could just show wristband.
The line went back and forth in the chutes in an extended “S” pattern. Later in the morning there was actually shade, even, although not later still in the afternoon. Everyone was pretty mellow. We weren’t really next to the most awesome people ever, conversation-wise, but they weren’t terrible either; we had some nice moments. E. and I were a party of two, so we had lots of time to sleep and rest and stuff.
There was a circle drive around the stadium, and it filled with red trucks later in the day. I took a walk in the morning around to find the loading docks, and there were not one but two, rather near each other, but still!! Thanks for adding an extra level of wtf to my day, FedEx Field.
Starting in the early afternoon – or even around noon, I guess – they had some vendors outside, with soda and water and coffee and even, I think, hot dogs, although *shudder* it’s hard to imagine ever eating a hot dog again. The coffee guy came by just as it was getting hot: “hot coffee!” No takers. So just a bit later he came past again: “iced coffee!” Crack me up. It was nice that they were there, though; it was port-a-johns all day, so no running water, and (furthermore) I really need some caffeine through the day to feed my addiction and prevent headache and dozing. Even if it’s coke. One thing I learned in DC is that my preference for Pepsi over Coke is getting stronger; I’ve always liked Pepsi quite a bit better, but after a few days of having to settle for Coke, the next time I had a Pepsi it was SUCH a pleasure. Ummmm.
Anyway, the vendors and staff and everyone were really nice to us all day, chatting and joking and such. Except the one I overheard talking about bombs and stuff because we were in DC and Bono and world leaders and so on. Yikes. Yeah, um, we were trying not to think about that? Dude? The Coke guy said he’d worked the Chicago shows – said they transport the workers around to different venues. Which doesn’t make sense to me, but he said he’d been up in the stands for the shows and how neat looking it was and everything. That dude had a long day – I saw him hawking drinks in the inner pit later.
So, you guys know the drill – wait, wait, wait, eat, drink, get nervous, wait. Zooropababy was there too; we weren’t near each other in line, but we had the chance to visit a few times during the day, and I swear she gets cuter every time I see her (which hasn’t been many, but still). That was nice! I don’t think anyone else I really know was there, although I saw a familiar face or two just from fandom and other lines generally.
In the afternoon, you know, it was getting pretty crowded; they had us scooch up a few times as the line threatened to overflow the area they’d reserved for us. My friend E. took to line life like an old hand. She’s really awesome and a U2 fan from way back, and had seen them a few times before, including the inauguration party because she rocks like that, but she hadn’t really done the ga line all day like this before. She was like a real pro the whole time. That said, at the same time I felt a lot of pressure for things to work out really well for us, because it was her only 2009 show and I had done it a few times and knew about the line numbers and stuff. So I had taken advantage of the Chicago shows to job shadow Ally and get a better feel for the whole thing, since I don’t get to do it very often myself. (My husband thinks I’m all insane and extravagant with the shows, and I’m the one of my flist who goes to the fewest shows and is the lamest! Life is pain. But it’s not fair to spend OUR money on my passion; we might want to buy another car or, you know, retire one day, after all. But I digress.)
I ended up writing a ridiculously long account of my day and night at the show with my friend E., so I'm cutting it into two parts: here's the first half.
On Tuesday 9/29 my friend E. and I went to the U2 show at FedEx Field in Landover, MD (aka the Washington, DC show). We hit the dollar store the night before for snacks and stuff but failed to find those foldy chairs/camp chairs we were looking for. (from what we could tell, neither of us having been to the stadium before, it’s kind of out in the middle of nowhere all by itself – no running across the street to McDonald’s for us, so we had to bring food for the whole day.)
First thing I’m gonna say is that it’s a whole different thing to wake up in someone’s house to get in line. I didn’t have to share the bathroom! AND my friend made us a quick breakfast! It’s very different having some eggs and toast and coffee inside when you’re on the way to it.
We were initially aiming for a bit earlier but got swept up in an epic quest for said chairs. The first couple of stores we hit – drugstore and grocery store – weren’t open, but we finally found one that was; it didn’t have lawn/foldy chairs, but we spotted pet beds and the light bulb went off and we each grabbed one. Better than sitting on concrete all day if it came to that. (In Chicago I was SO stiff and sore the first day.) Then E. saw that they also had milk crates. Pet bed atop milk crate = luxury seating! I admit, I nearly didn’t get a crate for myself, but I’m so glad I did. It was an inspired idea. We were amazingly comfortable all day in our improvised seats, and the crates were handy to carry our stuff TO the stadium in, AND the pet beds made for respectable pillows when we tried to nap later on in the morning.
Anyway, we found the place, and the internet said there was a metro station “less than a mile away” where we planned to park (although it was supposed to be an extra $25 payable on the way out, I believe). We drove past the station on purpose to see if we could get a glimpse or get near the stadium (and, you never know, maybe there was early parking that was open already, or something), but the street was all blocked off and there were a couple of cop cars up there, so we turned around (and we weren’t the only ones) and went back to the parking.
Well. It wasn’t light yet, and it sure seemed like more than a mile to ME. We grabbed our crates and beds and stuff and hiked and hiked. A few joggers passed us, and then one guy passed us, jogging but not a jogger – I knew he was one of us somehow, not dressed like a jogger, had a backpack, etc. It was kind of a deserted area, and even though we were going past normal/nice seeming townhouses, my friend did mention that we were in the county with the highest crime rate in the country. *ulp*
When we got to the grounds, after what seemed like a two-mile hike at least, what with hauling our gear and the early morning haste and pre-line anxiety – the cops/security still had the street closed off a good distance from the stadium, and our jogger was the only person there waiting. So we met him and of course he said there had been a line the night before, etc., but we couldn’t figure out how to get around to consolidate – they wouldn’t let us go TO the stadium, which we’d have to do to get PAST the stadium. We noted our arrival times in case we had to wait there forever, maybe we could try some kind of consolidating later, or something.
Anyway the guy talked to the cops and eventually one of them gave him a ride somewhere, like as the cop went to talk to the other cops – I was kind of confused by this – anyway, so I went and talked to the remaining cop (heat coming out of his car window! Yay!) for awhile and he said they weren’t going to let anyone on the property until – I don’t even remember, until noon? Wasn’t up to him. (he said people kept running over his flares driving up to look, like we had; he’d been through boxes of the things. In fact, I thought I remembered feeling something under the tires, but I kept that to myself.) We talked about it for awhile, and finally the other car came back and said to let us in. WOOT. So my friend and I grabbed our stuff and hustled. A long way, and then around, and then we spotted Jogger again; hmph! Why didn’t the cops give US a ride? It was a long way! A few minutes later the LINE came to join us, with the number people and everything, so we got numbered (wristbands) – my friend and I got 57 and 58, and by that time it was probably quarter till 7:00 at least – and I was like WHEW. I mean, once I get a number, I feel SO much better, you know? Until then I feel like everything’s in doubt.
So we spread down the sidewalk, grass behind us, facing a big empty parking lot and the sun, and the girls behind us offered us blueberry muffins, and we said HELL YEAH to that. It was chilly, but I was giddy at that point, and my friend saw it and totally understood. Once you’re actually on the property, half the anxiety and unknowns and doubt just melt away, right? Ahhhhh. So we had our muffins and they talked about moving the line and taking another roll call and stuff. Some of you probably know the fan named Amp; I didn’t know his name till later, although we’d hung out for a bit in Chicago. (he’s in some of my Chicago pictures, actually.) He came and was talking to the muffin girls, and was totally cracking us up with his rendition of Why I’ve Had It Up To Here With Bono. He said that when they were doing the Letterman stint, he’d been in a fan line with a picture of himself with Bono that he hoped to have autographed, and basically Bono snubbed him somehow, like looked right at him and/or the picture and refrained from signing it even though he was going down the line doing the meet and greet. So Amp was all “Bono is dead to me! I’m here for the other three guys. If I see Bono I’ll just be like ‘Fuck YOU, Bono,’ etc., etc.” It was very funny.
Anyway, after awhile they moved us up steps, onto concrete, and into the cattle chutes, BUT, my friend and I were close enough to the front that we got to be on the end, in the first chute, and that means GRASS. Again. How lucky could we be? I had told E. how everything seemed to work out in Chicago that we were just in the nick of time, if we’d been ten minutes later it would have been too bad, etc., and this was another example of that fine principle coming to fruition. When they moved us up, and when people came into that area throughout the day, that waiting area became a wristband/floor access area; they checked our tix and gave us venue wristbands as we went into the chutes, and then to back-and-forth all day we could just show wristband.
The line went back and forth in the chutes in an extended “S” pattern. Later in the morning there was actually shade, even, although not later still in the afternoon. Everyone was pretty mellow. We weren’t really next to the most awesome people ever, conversation-wise, but they weren’t terrible either; we had some nice moments. E. and I were a party of two, so we had lots of time to sleep and rest and stuff.
There was a circle drive around the stadium, and it filled with red trucks later in the day. I took a walk in the morning around to find the loading docks, and there were not one but two, rather near each other, but still!! Thanks for adding an extra level of wtf to my day, FedEx Field.
Starting in the early afternoon – or even around noon, I guess – they had some vendors outside, with soda and water and coffee and even, I think, hot dogs, although *shudder* it’s hard to imagine ever eating a hot dog again. The coffee guy came by just as it was getting hot: “hot coffee!” No takers. So just a bit later he came past again: “iced coffee!” Crack me up. It was nice that they were there, though; it was port-a-johns all day, so no running water, and (furthermore) I really need some caffeine through the day to feed my addiction and prevent headache and dozing. Even if it’s coke. One thing I learned in DC is that my preference for Pepsi over Coke is getting stronger; I’ve always liked Pepsi quite a bit better, but after a few days of having to settle for Coke, the next time I had a Pepsi it was SUCH a pleasure. Ummmm.
Anyway, the vendors and staff and everyone were really nice to us all day, chatting and joking and such. Except the one I overheard talking about bombs and stuff because we were in DC and Bono and world leaders and so on. Yikes. Yeah, um, we were trying not to think about that? Dude? The Coke guy said he’d worked the Chicago shows – said they transport the workers around to different venues. Which doesn’t make sense to me, but he said he’d been up in the stands for the shows and how neat looking it was and everything. That dude had a long day – I saw him hawking drinks in the inner pit later.
So, you guys know the drill – wait, wait, wait, eat, drink, get nervous, wait. Zooropababy was there too; we weren’t near each other in line, but we had the chance to visit a few times during the day, and I swear she gets cuter every time I see her (which hasn’t been many, but still). That was nice! I don’t think anyone else I really know was there, although I saw a familiar face or two just from fandom and other lines generally.
In the afternoon, you know, it was getting pretty crowded; they had us scooch up a few times as the line threatened to overflow the area they’d reserved for us. My friend E. took to line life like an old hand. She’s really awesome and a U2 fan from way back, and had seen them a few times before, including the inauguration party because she rocks like that, but she hadn’t really done the ga line all day like this before. She was like a real pro the whole time. That said, at the same time I felt a lot of pressure for things to work out really well for us, because it was her only 2009 show and I had done it a few times and knew about the line numbers and stuff. So I had taken advantage of the Chicago shows to job shadow Ally and get a better feel for the whole thing, since I don’t get to do it very often myself. (My husband thinks I’m all insane and extravagant with the shows, and I’m the one of my flist who goes to the fewest shows and is the lamest! Life is pain. But it’s not fair to spend OUR money on my passion; we might want to buy another car or, you know, retire one day, after all. But I digress.)
Monday, October 19, 2009
Washington, DC, 9/28/09
I went to Washington, DC at the end of September to visit several old friends and, of course, to go to a U2 show with one of them.
I’d never been to DC before, and Monday before the show my friend and host spent a day taking me to some of the major attractions. Since it was a Tourism Blitz, we didn’t really go into any of the museums or anything – just hit the high points. It was amazing! I had no idea it was possible to see so many monumental sites (really, no pun intended) in one day, so close together.
First, I learned to ride the Metro, DC’s light rail system, which seemed like a great system run sensibly – buy a card, prepay it, scan it when you get on and when you get off, and it deducts you for that ride. Fill it up at a kiosk at the station with your atm card. How much more convenient could it be?
We started at Arlington National Cemetery, the national cemetery for war dead, home of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and several Kennedys. Our ‘hit the high points’ agenda included the grave of John F. Kennedy (now with more Jacqueline and eternal flame).
It was smaller and flatter than I imagined – I think I was thinking of something more like the tomb of the unknowns. I liked it, though – relatively plain and simple – and I liked the stonework.
Nearby is Robert Kennedy’s much simpler grave, then Teddy’s.
You can see the outline of the new sod.
Arlington itself was a good place to visit, too. I’d like to go back when I have more time. A cemetery is a very effective monument to the glories of war. Imho.
One long walk across a long bridge later (well, the bridge was long if you’re walking it) and we came up behind the Lincoln Memorial. You know it, you love it.
Looking over the national mall from the Lincoln Memorial:
From there, on the right is the Korean War Memorial, and on the left is the Vietnam War Memorial. (and, of course, straight ahead is the Washington Monument, and waaay past that, the Capitol.) We went to the Korean memorial first; apparently I have never seen any pictures of it – it was amazing. I’d never seen anything like it. The pictures don’t really do it justice. A striking kind of diorama of a unit of soldiers with all their gear, looking tired and brave.
And then, of course, the Vietnam Memorial. I liked how one’s path sank gradually, as into a grave. You read one name, another name, and another, and they go on and on, and it’s like the rows and rows of tombstones at Arlington. Absolutely overwhelming.
We went on to the World War II memorial, which was gigantic with a plinth for each state and lot of water. I don’t know that I’ve ever used the word “plinth” before, by the way. Then we walked several blocks away – past many important government buildings and the Red Cross headquarters – to the White House’s back yard. Which, wow. One of the many, many places it was very difficult to tear myself away from.
At this point we were hot and tired and footsore, so we went a few blocks further to the Press Club and had lunch at a little sandwich place there (and did a bit of touristy shopping, too) before heading back to the mall and eyeing the Washington Monument from yet another angle before admitting we were too pooped to go right up to it. We also admired many great views of the Capitol and various places where Josh Lyman went jogging on “The West Wing.” Finally we limped into the Air and Space Museum just to use their bathroom, but on the way to the facilities I touched a moon rock that’s on exhibit for that purpose, so that was cool.
Here’s my whole flickr set for the day:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622420923223/
I’d never been to DC before, and Monday before the show my friend and host spent a day taking me to some of the major attractions. Since it was a Tourism Blitz, we didn’t really go into any of the museums or anything – just hit the high points. It was amazing! I had no idea it was possible to see so many monumental sites (really, no pun intended) in one day, so close together.
First, I learned to ride the Metro, DC’s light rail system, which seemed like a great system run sensibly – buy a card, prepay it, scan it when you get on and when you get off, and it deducts you for that ride. Fill it up at a kiosk at the station with your atm card. How much more convenient could it be?
We started at Arlington National Cemetery, the national cemetery for war dead, home of the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and several Kennedys. Our ‘hit the high points’ agenda included the grave of John F. Kennedy (now with more Jacqueline and eternal flame).
It was smaller and flatter than I imagined – I think I was thinking of something more like the tomb of the unknowns. I liked it, though – relatively plain and simple – and I liked the stonework.
Nearby is Robert Kennedy’s much simpler grave, then Teddy’s.
You can see the outline of the new sod.
Arlington itself was a good place to visit, too. I’d like to go back when I have more time. A cemetery is a very effective monument to the glories of war. Imho.
One long walk across a long bridge later (well, the bridge was long if you’re walking it) and we came up behind the Lincoln Memorial. You know it, you love it.
Looking over the national mall from the Lincoln Memorial:
From there, on the right is the Korean War Memorial, and on the left is the Vietnam War Memorial. (and, of course, straight ahead is the Washington Monument, and waaay past that, the Capitol.) We went to the Korean memorial first; apparently I have never seen any pictures of it – it was amazing. I’d never seen anything like it. The pictures don’t really do it justice. A striking kind of diorama of a unit of soldiers with all their gear, looking tired and brave.
And then, of course, the Vietnam Memorial. I liked how one’s path sank gradually, as into a grave. You read one name, another name, and another, and they go on and on, and it’s like the rows and rows of tombstones at Arlington. Absolutely overwhelming.
We went on to the World War II memorial, which was gigantic with a plinth for each state and lot of water. I don’t know that I’ve ever used the word “plinth” before, by the way. Then we walked several blocks away – past many important government buildings and the Red Cross headquarters – to the White House’s back yard. Which, wow. One of the many, many places it was very difficult to tear myself away from.
At this point we were hot and tired and footsore, so we went a few blocks further to the Press Club and had lunch at a little sandwich place there (and did a bit of touristy shopping, too) before heading back to the mall and eyeing the Washington Monument from yet another angle before admitting we were too pooped to go right up to it. We also admired many great views of the Capitol and various places where Josh Lyman went jogging on “The West Wing.” Finally we limped into the Air and Space Museum just to use their bathroom, but on the way to the facilities I touched a moon rock that’s on exhibit for that purpose, so that was cool.
Here’s my whole flickr set for the day:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622420923223/
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
U2, Chicago, Soldier Field, 9/13/09
U2 in Chicago: the madness continues
As stated, after the 9/12 show my friend Ally and I got numbers 46 and 47, which was awesome. We went back to our group by the loading dock and eventually ended up asking a cab driver where we could get something to eat near our hotel at that hour; eight or ten of us ended up with late-night subs, also availing ourselves of the opportunity to buy some pastry and/or chips for the next day.
After the first day, some of us were really tired (okay, ALL of us were really tired), and some of us felt less urgency for the second day. However, Ally and I planned to hit it hard again; we wanted to be there about 4:30. Unfortunately, we overslept – I can’t imagine why, besides the exhaustion, other than the fact that four educated, intelligent, capable women from three continents apparently can’t figure out how to work a hotel alarm clock. At any rate, the two of us got to the off-site underpass encampment around 5:30 (again, the venue wouldn’t let people line up overnight on the property, but with security’s knowledge they lined up very nearby). We were just in the nick of time, AGAIN, because (as happens) some people were missing, and security was getting ready to move us to the on-site line again – the underpass. So the line organizers were going down the line taking roll again and renumbering to skip over the absentees. Ally and I bumped up to 35 and 36, which is the best number I’ve ever had and could not be more awesome. Then security let us on site to the real line, which, again, it wasn’t a single-file waiting area, so the numbers weren’t kept as strictly as at other lines I’ve seen, but it worked for us. The wait was much more pleasant Sunday because we’d been there before, we knew the ropes, we had more room because it wasn’t a line-merging rush at the last minute. Time seemed to pass much faster.
The day went very similarly. People looked familiar; we tried to save our strength. I was exhausted from the day before and from lack of sleep, but I can’t really fall asleep in line very well. I can relax and rest and come very close to dozing, but not really sleep. I was so tired, I kept thinking that if I kept eating, it would be the same as sleep – energy acquisition, right? I ate everything I could. You also end up analyzing your liquid intake in strange ways. Like, I have to have caffeine to live and to not have a headache. And it’s very important to keep hydrated all day so you don’t faint during the show. But after 3:30 or 4:00 you can’t go to the bathroom from the line, and you don’t want to have to go once you’re inside – it’s such a madhouse. So you drink a lot at some times, cut yourself off at others – it’s kind of weird.
The first night, however, I discovered my secret weapons to surviving, even tired and/or hungry, which is that I sneaked a water bottle into the place each night – later you need that water! – as well as a soyjoy bar and one of those “5-hour energy drinks,” which I don’t usually have. I don’t know whether it’s a psychological thing – certainly those drinks taste horrible – but having the bar and drinking the thing after the opening band gives you just that extra bit of energy to get through.
The second day, the head security guy (“Tony”) told us he’d been trying to get us better organized and safer, because the charge into the stadium had been kind of a dangerous cluster the night before. This time they roped us off again, but a phalanx of security actually walked us through the first area to the turnstiles. Again there was some confusion – people in all the other lines were getting wristbands, and the staff person in our line was holding a bunch of them, so going through, we all stopped and asked, “Don’t we need wristbands?” and he said “No – don’t hold up the line!” so we went ahead without them, because, what can you do? A guy after him hole-punched our tickets for reasons I don’t understand. We ran inside and around the corner and waited again. Then we were supposed to hold up our tickets and wristbands as we ran past security. I HAVE NO WRISTBAND. but it was a mob scene, there was no way they could see or could have stopped me, so I just held up my ticket with the rest and ran ran ran. Again Ally and I wanted the same spot and she promised to hold a space for me, so I ran and looked for her and ran and walked past security and ran-walked and nearly died - football fields are BIG - and there she was as promised, so there we were!
This second night we decided to try for the inner pit – in past tours this was lottery-based or random, but on this tour it’s strictly first come first serve, which, frankly, is the only way I’ll ever get in there. So with Ally’s superior running skills coming into play once again, we got inside the pit at the stage rail right in front of Adam Clayton. Hooray!
Sunday night's show was even better than Saturday’s. It has to be the best concert I've ever seen. they made a few changes in the set list and took out 'Pride' for the first time in years but added back in "until the end of the world," which made me very very happy. That’s not only a song I love a ton, but it’s one of my favorite U2 songs live. Ally and I had a great time jumping up and down and singing and cheering and taking pictures.
At first I didn’t feel that way; I was kind of discouraged, because from that close to the stage, your view is most excellent of some of the stage but very limited when it comes to other parts of the show. And when the bridge swung out and was almost directly over us, it was so chaotic, security had to come out into the crowd, you couldn’t really see anything – I felt kind of less than 100 percent thrilled about our choice.
But the bridge was only right over us for one song, and security got out of our way, and we were right at the stage, and the sound was amazing, and the show was amazing, and everything went right. Oh, not only that, but they played a rare track “Your Blue Room” live for the first time ever anywhere that night. It’s not even on my short list of favorite U2 songs, but it joins many less-than-my-favorite U2 songs that is totally redeemed live (I never liked Miss Sarejevo that much until I saw it live on the Vertigo tour, for instance). Plus it was such a rare experience.
Sometimes something happens at a concert that you really can’t explain. It’s the same people doing the same thing, but everything just kind of clicks and comes together, and the audience is better and pushes the band a little further, and they give a little more and provokes the audience to respond a little more – this was that kind of night. Afterward people were just kind of gasping, “amazing – wow – WOW.”
Afterward we went back out to the loading dock again. Let me mention here that, regardless of the facts, venue staff will invariably tell you that the band left a long time ago and that you are wasting your time waiting. Sometimes this is true and sometimes it isn’t. However, this time there weren’t really any security people around, and someone came and took down some barriers, so it didn’t look good for stalking on this particular occasion. So we gave up and went away – exhausted and satisfied.
My flickr set from 9/13/09:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622310971887/
set list:
Breathe
No Line On The Horizon
Get On Your Boots
Magnificent
Beautiful Day
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Elevation
Your Blue Room
Unknown Caller
Until the End of the World
Stay (Faraway, So Close)
The Unforgettable Fire
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy
Encore 1:One
Where the Streets Have No Name
Encore 2:
Ultraviolet
With or Without You
Moment of Surrender
As stated, after the 9/12 show my friend Ally and I got numbers 46 and 47, which was awesome. We went back to our group by the loading dock and eventually ended up asking a cab driver where we could get something to eat near our hotel at that hour; eight or ten of us ended up with late-night subs, also availing ourselves of the opportunity to buy some pastry and/or chips for the next day.
After the first day, some of us were really tired (okay, ALL of us were really tired), and some of us felt less urgency for the second day. However, Ally and I planned to hit it hard again; we wanted to be there about 4:30. Unfortunately, we overslept – I can’t imagine why, besides the exhaustion, other than the fact that four educated, intelligent, capable women from three continents apparently can’t figure out how to work a hotel alarm clock. At any rate, the two of us got to the off-site underpass encampment around 5:30 (again, the venue wouldn’t let people line up overnight on the property, but with security’s knowledge they lined up very nearby). We were just in the nick of time, AGAIN, because (as happens) some people were missing, and security was getting ready to move us to the on-site line again – the underpass. So the line organizers were going down the line taking roll again and renumbering to skip over the absentees. Ally and I bumped up to 35 and 36, which is the best number I’ve ever had and could not be more awesome. Then security let us on site to the real line, which, again, it wasn’t a single-file waiting area, so the numbers weren’t kept as strictly as at other lines I’ve seen, but it worked for us. The wait was much more pleasant Sunday because we’d been there before, we knew the ropes, we had more room because it wasn’t a line-merging rush at the last minute. Time seemed to pass much faster.
The day went very similarly. People looked familiar; we tried to save our strength. I was exhausted from the day before and from lack of sleep, but I can’t really fall asleep in line very well. I can relax and rest and come very close to dozing, but not really sleep. I was so tired, I kept thinking that if I kept eating, it would be the same as sleep – energy acquisition, right? I ate everything I could. You also end up analyzing your liquid intake in strange ways. Like, I have to have caffeine to live and to not have a headache. And it’s very important to keep hydrated all day so you don’t faint during the show. But after 3:30 or 4:00 you can’t go to the bathroom from the line, and you don’t want to have to go once you’re inside – it’s such a madhouse. So you drink a lot at some times, cut yourself off at others – it’s kind of weird.
The first night, however, I discovered my secret weapons to surviving, even tired and/or hungry, which is that I sneaked a water bottle into the place each night – later you need that water! – as well as a soyjoy bar and one of those “5-hour energy drinks,” which I don’t usually have. I don’t know whether it’s a psychological thing – certainly those drinks taste horrible – but having the bar and drinking the thing after the opening band gives you just that extra bit of energy to get through.
The second day, the head security guy (“Tony”) told us he’d been trying to get us better organized and safer, because the charge into the stadium had been kind of a dangerous cluster the night before. This time they roped us off again, but a phalanx of security actually walked us through the first area to the turnstiles. Again there was some confusion – people in all the other lines were getting wristbands, and the staff person in our line was holding a bunch of them, so going through, we all stopped and asked, “Don’t we need wristbands?” and he said “No – don’t hold up the line!” so we went ahead without them, because, what can you do? A guy after him hole-punched our tickets for reasons I don’t understand. We ran inside and around the corner and waited again. Then we were supposed to hold up our tickets and wristbands as we ran past security. I HAVE NO WRISTBAND. but it was a mob scene, there was no way they could see or could have stopped me, so I just held up my ticket with the rest and ran ran ran. Again Ally and I wanted the same spot and she promised to hold a space for me, so I ran and looked for her and ran and walked past security and ran-walked and nearly died - football fields are BIG - and there she was as promised, so there we were!
This second night we decided to try for the inner pit – in past tours this was lottery-based or random, but on this tour it’s strictly first come first serve, which, frankly, is the only way I’ll ever get in there. So with Ally’s superior running skills coming into play once again, we got inside the pit at the stage rail right in front of Adam Clayton. Hooray!
Sunday night's show was even better than Saturday’s. It has to be the best concert I've ever seen. they made a few changes in the set list and took out 'Pride' for the first time in years but added back in "until the end of the world," which made me very very happy. That’s not only a song I love a ton, but it’s one of my favorite U2 songs live. Ally and I had a great time jumping up and down and singing and cheering and taking pictures.
At first I didn’t feel that way; I was kind of discouraged, because from that close to the stage, your view is most excellent of some of the stage but very limited when it comes to other parts of the show. And when the bridge swung out and was almost directly over us, it was so chaotic, security had to come out into the crowd, you couldn’t really see anything – I felt kind of less than 100 percent thrilled about our choice.
But the bridge was only right over us for one song, and security got out of our way, and we were right at the stage, and the sound was amazing, and the show was amazing, and everything went right. Oh, not only that, but they played a rare track “Your Blue Room” live for the first time ever anywhere that night. It’s not even on my short list of favorite U2 songs, but it joins many less-than-my-favorite U2 songs that is totally redeemed live (I never liked Miss Sarejevo that much until I saw it live on the Vertigo tour, for instance). Plus it was such a rare experience.
Sometimes something happens at a concert that you really can’t explain. It’s the same people doing the same thing, but everything just kind of clicks and comes together, and the audience is better and pushes the band a little further, and they give a little more and provokes the audience to respond a little more – this was that kind of night. Afterward people were just kind of gasping, “amazing – wow – WOW.”
Afterward we went back out to the loading dock again. Let me mention here that, regardless of the facts, venue staff will invariably tell you that the band left a long time ago and that you are wasting your time waiting. Sometimes this is true and sometimes it isn’t. However, this time there weren’t really any security people around, and someone came and took down some barriers, so it didn’t look good for stalking on this particular occasion. So we gave up and went away – exhausted and satisfied.
My flickr set from 9/13/09:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622310971887/
set list:
Breathe
No Line On The Horizon
Get On Your Boots
Magnificent
Beautiful Day
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Elevation
Your Blue Room
Unknown Caller
Until the End of the World
Stay (Faraway, So Close)
The Unforgettable Fire
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy
Encore 1:One
Where the Streets Have No Name
Encore 2:
Ultraviolet
With or Without You
Moment of Surrender
U2, Sept. 12, 2009, Soldier Field, Chicago
I’ve totally neglected this blog for forever – the result of too much other ‘social media,’ I think.
But I have some shows to tell you about – in September I went to three U2 shows and got some great pics.
First I went to the two Chicago shows on Sept. 12 and 13th; I met a bunch of friends from across the country and abroad for the occasion, which was great – some I hadn’t seen in a few years, and some I hadn’t met in person before, so it was loads of fun catching up and/or getting to know one another. (California, Colorado, Florida, Ohio, Vermont, Illinois, Indiana, Australia, New Zealand, and Sweden, and I know I’m forgetting some. There was a large California contingent.)
I had general admission tickets, as one does. The Sept. 12 show (Chicago 1) was the North American tour opener, so it was a big draw. There’s a tradition at U2 shows that the fans organize the line, so it’s first come first serve and you get on a numbered list. This allows you to come and go during the day with a measure of security and makes it harder to cut in line (until chaos happens). However, it’s considered good form and good manners to be physically present in the line for most of the day; that way you’ve done your time and earned it, and also the people around you in line recognize you; it eliminates misunderstandings and hard feelings.
So, since it was the tour leg opener, we heard that people had lined up a day or two earlier – to begin establishing the line and the numbering, although the facility (Soldier Field) wouldn’t allow them on the property overnight, so they had to leave, come back, stand across the street, etc. When we got there at 5 a.m. there was a bit of confusion; the ‘two days earlier’ group apparently had wristbands they were giving out to establish the order, but a different group seemed to be giving out numbers, as is the custom, so there seemed to be two lines. We were in a tunnel under a street, so the lines formed on opposite sides, and we got in the non-wristband line and got the numbers chick to give us some numbers (we got in the 60s, which is pretty good). One always does worry that there’ll be some kind of drama, and I never feel secure until I have my number – although this case was particularly worrisome! As it turned out, the tunnel area was used heavily by bikers, joggers, etc., so security had us all move over to one side, and the lines really kind of merged and fell apart at that point. At that point it really worked to our benefit; people kind of ignored the numbers and our group probably ended up further ahead in line than we would have. However, given the awkward scramble, we ended up more crowded under there than we should have, which made for some discomfort during a long day of sitting on cement. (oh, my elderly joints!)
Once in our proper places, we were well launched into the ‘hurry up and wait’ cycle. It’s always an anxious rush to get there and get your space established, and then you just wait and wait and wait, anxious for the next rush. People brought blankets, lawn chairs, etc; there was a lot of resting and sleeping, and some card playing, and a lot of chatting. It was a very long day for me, because I hadn’t done it in almost exactly four years and because it was the first show of the season; we didn’t know what to expect, most of us hadn’t seen the stage yet, hadn’t been to the venue before, etc. It was cold there under our bridge in the early hours, but the weather actually was great all weekend, and later we were so glad not to be out in the hot sun all day. It worked out really well for us (my U2 experiences often seem to revolve around having gotten somewhere in the nick of time; in this case, to the shade!).
but it was easy to get out of line and walk around, etc. I made a big effort to save my strength - but also we had a thin blanket, and the concrete really started to hurt our joints and ass bones after a while, so it was good to stand up. The best thing was that there was a food kiosk near the field museum north of the stadium, and also a real bathroom with plumbing in the parking garage - and they had staff people there all day both days, stocking and cleaning it - with water fountains and even a vending machine with water and coke. LUXURY. It was so much less horrible just having plumbing and water. I remember some GA lines with only port-a-johns and no vending, and it makes a huge difference. I brought a water bottle to smuggle in and refilled it a few times during the day. the rest of the time, it was just boring. we checked our phones for the time like every three minutes all day long.
Sometimes one can accost the band at the loading dock when they arrive in the afternoon for soundcheck (as well as after the show), but given that there had been some confusion over the line earlier, and the band usually arrives mid-afternoon when things are starting to get anxious at the line, we didn’t really go over there to wait. Apparently they signed some autographs at the hotel but not at the venue anyway.
As stated, things get anxious starting around 3:00, and people started taking things to their cars, going to the bathroom for the last time, ditching extraneous baggage, and so on, as more security people gather and you can see the ticket takers and staff members getting organized. finally they roped off the first like hundred people or so, and then the second, so they could let us in in groups. However, as soon as they dropped the ropes, we ran across a plaza to the turnstiles, where we waited for another minute. they let some of us through with nothing, and gave some people wristbands, and had some thing where they were hole punching some of the tickets, too. we ran inside and around a corner where we waited for 15 or 20 minutes while they made announcements we couldn't hear. do we need wristbands? nobody knows? etc. during the running there was pushing and shoving and I think they were really lucky nobody was hurt. Then they let the second group follow us in before we'd gotten to progress, so it got very crowded and pushy. It wasn't very well organized at all. Finally they let us through this narrow hallway toward the field. I saw a guy holding a bunch of wristbands and asked him for one. running running running across the field, looking for my friend Ally, who is little and spry and runs much faster. You know you’re going to get separated; the way to go is to agree on what general location you want and then whoever gets there first tries to save a bit of space, so you’re running and looking around for each other, passing security telling you to walk every few steps, slower faster slower faster. There was no way to stay together; it was kind of a madhouse. Ally got at the outside railing in the center and saved as much space as she could, so some 6 or 8 of us got to stand all more or less together. and then I finally had a chance to look up at the monstrous canopy over the stage and just go "holy shit" for a while.
The stage is just amazing. I don’t know what to say about it. It looks kind of ridiculous at first, too much, incomprehensible, but then you start to get used to it a little, and then when U2 are actually on, it’s such a part of the show, the lights, the smoke, the sound, it seems Just Exactly Right.
When you get up at 4 in the morning and haven’t had much sleep, it seems like nothing could be worth all this. And when you get to the venue before dawn and join the ragtag band of folks, with their odds and ends and sleeping bags and supplies and layers and sleeplessness and everything, you know it’s just going to be a big pain. And when you wait in line all day, dealing with whatever the weather throws you, and often physically uncomfortable, eating whatever comes your way, trying to get a nap, well, I seriously thought this might be the last time for me. Why do I do this? Why do I put myself through this? It’s such a hassle, and it’s so ridiculous. Sure, it’s a lot cheaper than seats, but maybe I’m getting to That Age, you know? A good night’s sleep, decent meals throughout the day, getting to the venue at a leisurely 6 p.m. … all that sounded pretty good.
And then the smoke and the lights, and the band comes out, and the music starts, and it’s all worth it just at that moment, much less throughout the night. It’s divine madness. At one point several of us had a good cry. And you jump up and down and scream and sing and cheer and wave. And they come around and stand right in front of you, and that would never happen if you hadn’t sacrificed for it.
And as soon as it’s over, you start thinking madly of how you can do it again, how soon, when, where, there must be a way, this can’t end. It’s more than a concert. It’s an amazing experience. I’ve seen U2 from the seats, and they’re amazing, but it’s not the same. In line, it’s a community. People share their resources, pass water and food around. You don’t have to explain why or convince anyone; everyone in line left a crowd of family, spouses, friends, coworkers who don’t get it and came here where everyone gets it. You see someone you think you recognize everywhere. Didn’t that chick get up on stage that one time; I know that guy’s in some of my pictures from that other show. It’s a different country.
Yeah, I’m kind of nuts that way.
Did I mention outside rail at the center??
Amazing.
After the show we went around to the loading docks, where a number of people were waiting around. We saw some of U2's crew, and some of them seemed to be carrying wine into the place, which did not indicate the band making their getaway anytime soon. While we waited, one guy (who’d been in line all day with us) told us that the next day’s numbers were being given out. Ally and I, who planned to come back early the next day (our group broke up and came at different times according to sleepiness and insanity), ran to find them. Around the stadium, under the bridge, under another bridge, around the corner, and they were just about to leave for a few hours’ sleep when we found them and got the last two numbers of the night, 46 and 47, which is very, very good. And so off to get something to eat, and so to bed for a few hours.
Here’s my flickr set from Sept. 12, 2009.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622289275337/
set list:
Breathe
No Line On The Horizon
Get On Your Boots
Magnificent
Beautiful Day
Elevation
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Stuck In A Moment
Unknown Caller
The Unforgettable Fire
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight (remix)
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Pride
MLK
Walk On
Encore 1:
Where the Streets Have No Name
One, Bad
Encore 2: Ultraviolet
With or Without You
Moment of Surrender
But I have some shows to tell you about – in September I went to three U2 shows and got some great pics.
First I went to the two Chicago shows on Sept. 12 and 13th; I met a bunch of friends from across the country and abroad for the occasion, which was great – some I hadn’t seen in a few years, and some I hadn’t met in person before, so it was loads of fun catching up and/or getting to know one another. (California, Colorado, Florida, Ohio, Vermont, Illinois, Indiana, Australia, New Zealand, and Sweden, and I know I’m forgetting some. There was a large California contingent.)
I had general admission tickets, as one does. The Sept. 12 show (Chicago 1) was the North American tour opener, so it was a big draw. There’s a tradition at U2 shows that the fans organize the line, so it’s first come first serve and you get on a numbered list. This allows you to come and go during the day with a measure of security and makes it harder to cut in line (until chaos happens). However, it’s considered good form and good manners to be physically present in the line for most of the day; that way you’ve done your time and earned it, and also the people around you in line recognize you; it eliminates misunderstandings and hard feelings.
So, since it was the tour leg opener, we heard that people had lined up a day or two earlier – to begin establishing the line and the numbering, although the facility (Soldier Field) wouldn’t allow them on the property overnight, so they had to leave, come back, stand across the street, etc. When we got there at 5 a.m. there was a bit of confusion; the ‘two days earlier’ group apparently had wristbands they were giving out to establish the order, but a different group seemed to be giving out numbers, as is the custom, so there seemed to be two lines. We were in a tunnel under a street, so the lines formed on opposite sides, and we got in the non-wristband line and got the numbers chick to give us some numbers (we got in the 60s, which is pretty good). One always does worry that there’ll be some kind of drama, and I never feel secure until I have my number – although this case was particularly worrisome! As it turned out, the tunnel area was used heavily by bikers, joggers, etc., so security had us all move over to one side, and the lines really kind of merged and fell apart at that point. At that point it really worked to our benefit; people kind of ignored the numbers and our group probably ended up further ahead in line than we would have. However, given the awkward scramble, we ended up more crowded under there than we should have, which made for some discomfort during a long day of sitting on cement. (oh, my elderly joints!)
Once in our proper places, we were well launched into the ‘hurry up and wait’ cycle. It’s always an anxious rush to get there and get your space established, and then you just wait and wait and wait, anxious for the next rush. People brought blankets, lawn chairs, etc; there was a lot of resting and sleeping, and some card playing, and a lot of chatting. It was a very long day for me, because I hadn’t done it in almost exactly four years and because it was the first show of the season; we didn’t know what to expect, most of us hadn’t seen the stage yet, hadn’t been to the venue before, etc. It was cold there under our bridge in the early hours, but the weather actually was great all weekend, and later we were so glad not to be out in the hot sun all day. It worked out really well for us (my U2 experiences often seem to revolve around having gotten somewhere in the nick of time; in this case, to the shade!).
but it was easy to get out of line and walk around, etc. I made a big effort to save my strength - but also we had a thin blanket, and the concrete really started to hurt our joints and ass bones after a while, so it was good to stand up. The best thing was that there was a food kiosk near the field museum north of the stadium, and also a real bathroom with plumbing in the parking garage - and they had staff people there all day both days, stocking and cleaning it - with water fountains and even a vending machine with water and coke. LUXURY. It was so much less horrible just having plumbing and water. I remember some GA lines with only port-a-johns and no vending, and it makes a huge difference. I brought a water bottle to smuggle in and refilled it a few times during the day. the rest of the time, it was just boring. we checked our phones for the time like every three minutes all day long.
Sometimes one can accost the band at the loading dock when they arrive in the afternoon for soundcheck (as well as after the show), but given that there had been some confusion over the line earlier, and the band usually arrives mid-afternoon when things are starting to get anxious at the line, we didn’t really go over there to wait. Apparently they signed some autographs at the hotel but not at the venue anyway.
As stated, things get anxious starting around 3:00, and people started taking things to their cars, going to the bathroom for the last time, ditching extraneous baggage, and so on, as more security people gather and you can see the ticket takers and staff members getting organized. finally they roped off the first like hundred people or so, and then the second, so they could let us in in groups. However, as soon as they dropped the ropes, we ran across a plaza to the turnstiles, where we waited for another minute. they let some of us through with nothing, and gave some people wristbands, and had some thing where they were hole punching some of the tickets, too. we ran inside and around a corner where we waited for 15 or 20 minutes while they made announcements we couldn't hear. do we need wristbands? nobody knows? etc. during the running there was pushing and shoving and I think they were really lucky nobody was hurt. Then they let the second group follow us in before we'd gotten to progress, so it got very crowded and pushy. It wasn't very well organized at all. Finally they let us through this narrow hallway toward the field. I saw a guy holding a bunch of wristbands and asked him for one. running running running across the field, looking for my friend Ally, who is little and spry and runs much faster. You know you’re going to get separated; the way to go is to agree on what general location you want and then whoever gets there first tries to save a bit of space, so you’re running and looking around for each other, passing security telling you to walk every few steps, slower faster slower faster. There was no way to stay together; it was kind of a madhouse. Ally got at the outside railing in the center and saved as much space as she could, so some 6 or 8 of us got to stand all more or less together. and then I finally had a chance to look up at the monstrous canopy over the stage and just go "holy shit" for a while.
The stage is just amazing. I don’t know what to say about it. It looks kind of ridiculous at first, too much, incomprehensible, but then you start to get used to it a little, and then when U2 are actually on, it’s such a part of the show, the lights, the smoke, the sound, it seems Just Exactly Right.
When you get up at 4 in the morning and haven’t had much sleep, it seems like nothing could be worth all this. And when you get to the venue before dawn and join the ragtag band of folks, with their odds and ends and sleeping bags and supplies and layers and sleeplessness and everything, you know it’s just going to be a big pain. And when you wait in line all day, dealing with whatever the weather throws you, and often physically uncomfortable, eating whatever comes your way, trying to get a nap, well, I seriously thought this might be the last time for me. Why do I do this? Why do I put myself through this? It’s such a hassle, and it’s so ridiculous. Sure, it’s a lot cheaper than seats, but maybe I’m getting to That Age, you know? A good night’s sleep, decent meals throughout the day, getting to the venue at a leisurely 6 p.m. … all that sounded pretty good.
And then the smoke and the lights, and the band comes out, and the music starts, and it’s all worth it just at that moment, much less throughout the night. It’s divine madness. At one point several of us had a good cry. And you jump up and down and scream and sing and cheer and wave. And they come around and stand right in front of you, and that would never happen if you hadn’t sacrificed for it.
And as soon as it’s over, you start thinking madly of how you can do it again, how soon, when, where, there must be a way, this can’t end. It’s more than a concert. It’s an amazing experience. I’ve seen U2 from the seats, and they’re amazing, but it’s not the same. In line, it’s a community. People share their resources, pass water and food around. You don’t have to explain why or convince anyone; everyone in line left a crowd of family, spouses, friends, coworkers who don’t get it and came here where everyone gets it. You see someone you think you recognize everywhere. Didn’t that chick get up on stage that one time; I know that guy’s in some of my pictures from that other show. It’s a different country.
Yeah, I’m kind of nuts that way.
Did I mention outside rail at the center??
Amazing.
After the show we went around to the loading docks, where a number of people were waiting around. We saw some of U2's crew, and some of them seemed to be carrying wine into the place, which did not indicate the band making their getaway anytime soon. While we waited, one guy (who’d been in line all day with us) told us that the next day’s numbers were being given out. Ally and I, who planned to come back early the next day (our group broke up and came at different times according to sleepiness and insanity), ran to find them. Around the stadium, under the bridge, under another bridge, around the corner, and they were just about to leave for a few hours’ sleep when we found them and got the last two numbers of the night, 46 and 47, which is very, very good. And so off to get something to eat, and so to bed for a few hours.
Here’s my flickr set from Sept. 12, 2009.
http://www.flickr.com/photos/m_lynch/sets/72157622289275337/
set list:
Breathe
No Line On The Horizon
Get On Your Boots
Magnificent
Beautiful Day
Elevation
I Still Haven't Found What I'm Looking For
Stuck In A Moment
Unknown Caller
The Unforgettable Fire
City of Blinding Lights
Vertigo
I'll Go Crazy If I Don't Go Crazy Tonight (remix)
Sunday Bloody Sunday
Pride
MLK
Walk On
Encore 1:
Where the Streets Have No Name
One, Bad
Encore 2: Ultraviolet
With or Without You
Moment of Surrender
Wednesday, July 22, 2009
Robert Cray Band, 7/7/09, The Pageant, STL
I never posted about the Robert Cray Band July 7!
we didn't take off early from work, so we weren't exactly early. the seats were full and the floor was empty, but J didn't want to be down front this time, so we found what seemed like a good standing spot behind a younger couple who were saving a couple of seats. Unfortunately several friends ended up joining them and they had one or two fewer seats than people, and they all got up and sat down and milled about and went out and came back and talked and yapped and talked and talked and jesus christ. On our way out afterward, J said, "I can never own a gun," and I laughed, and he said, "you think I'm kidding?" and I said "no, I KNOW you're not."
anyway, that was really really really freaking maddening. there's nothing more maddening than hearing those stupid voices cutting through the music and going on and on. we were really upset because we could see so well and we could tell that the show was really good. people in St. Louis must have a lot of money to spend, but I just don't understand why they don't go to a cheaper bar to talk instead of spending the money on tickets when they clearly aren't interested in music.
but I digress.
the show was really good and a couple of songs before the encore we saw an older couple with good seats apparently hugging their friends goodbye and leaving, so we hiked right on down there (checking with the remaining people to make sure the seats were now really vacant). ahhhhh, what a freaking improvement. I wish I could've dragged J down to the floor, but he didn't have earplugs, and of course you can hear better from further back, and I guess I understand that he doesn't always want to have to deal with being all crowded and hemmed in - I don't like it either.
I didn't keep a set list and I haven't been able to find one, but he played pretty much everything you know except Twenty and and Walkin': Poor Johnny, Smokin' Gun, Because of Me, 12 year old boy, Our Last Time, Nothin' but a Woman, and a couple of new songs, too.
Here are 13 pictures, very similar to each other! furthest to closest, more or less
we didn't take off early from work, so we weren't exactly early. the seats were full and the floor was empty, but J didn't want to be down front this time, so we found what seemed like a good standing spot behind a younger couple who were saving a couple of seats. Unfortunately several friends ended up joining them and they had one or two fewer seats than people, and they all got up and sat down and milled about and went out and came back and talked and yapped and talked and talked and jesus christ. On our way out afterward, J said, "I can never own a gun," and I laughed, and he said, "you think I'm kidding?" and I said "no, I KNOW you're not."
anyway, that was really really really freaking maddening. there's nothing more maddening than hearing those stupid voices cutting through the music and going on and on. we were really upset because we could see so well and we could tell that the show was really good. people in St. Louis must have a lot of money to spend, but I just don't understand why they don't go to a cheaper bar to talk instead of spending the money on tickets when they clearly aren't interested in music.
but I digress.
the show was really good and a couple of songs before the encore we saw an older couple with good seats apparently hugging their friends goodbye and leaving, so we hiked right on down there (checking with the remaining people to make sure the seats were now really vacant). ahhhhh, what a freaking improvement. I wish I could've dragged J down to the floor, but he didn't have earplugs, and of course you can hear better from further back, and I guess I understand that he doesn't always want to have to deal with being all crowded and hemmed in - I don't like it either.
I didn't keep a set list and I haven't been able to find one, but he played pretty much everything you know except Twenty and and Walkin': Poor Johnny, Smokin' Gun, Because of Me, 12 year old boy, Our Last Time, Nothin' but a Woman, and a couple of new songs, too.
Here are 13 pictures, very similar to each other! furthest to closest, more or less
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