I'll be the first to say (although I don't know if he would like me to) that neither of us are true city drivers. Yes, we can master the outskirts of Mil. or Madison.. but Chitown, well that's just a different beast. So I drove, and Erik was directions master. His job was small, as I had printed out the directions. Simply just tell me where to go, and with enough heads up to make it happen. Apparently, neither of us did that great of a job in either of our appointed positions. We started getting into the traffic, and we had an exit we NEEDED to catch, or.... well, who knows where we would've ended up.. Cars we're weaving in and out of each other, and I could already feel the muscles in my legs tightening.
"THERE!! THERE!! That's our exit!!!!"
(Cars are merging from an on ramp that is .25 miles from our exit)
I can't get there, look at all these cars!!!!
Well, switch places with that car!!
.. Really? Oh, it's that easy? Snap, snap, pooof, we're over!.. NOT.
So, I'm already past the real portion of the exit, the point where its appropriate to exit.. Well, now what, all I'm hearing is GO! GO! so, I went. I sped past the car i was trying to trade places with, and do a ja rule, fast and furious 4 lane change, cut off a couple of cars, and brush death in the face.. I'm in near charlie horse territory because my legs are so tight from nervousness (hahaha, true!). We make the exit by near inches and I immediately went silent... as my co-captain burst into a belly laugh. What?! You're laughing, that was HORRIBLE, I could've killed us! It was not by my driving skills that we didn't hit a car, it was sheer luck..
He then responds by telling me (with a smile), well, if it would've been me.. I would've just traded places with that car, and made the exit. Or, if I was in your position, I would've just missed the exit, it wasn't worth our lives.
Now that we're both under the same understanding that city driving is an easy and care free event, he will both be the driver, and the direction giver!
So the suspense continued!! Erik and I spent the day with Molly and Tom (my sister and her husband) and their son, Miles. I love seeing my sister, and we are so much alike, it's similar to taking a conversation you'd have in your head, have it outloud and hear how you would've responded. The small time we had with them flew by, and they dropped us off Solider Field around 4:45 p.m.
The doors opened at 6 and there was a huge line, at least 6 blocks long. I will credit Erik's excellent weaving abilities, because the line was loosely created and we wove in and out like a well oiled machine. We raced through the doors and literally ran to our spots.
This is where I tell you we didn't really have a spot. We had general admission, which was on the stadium of Solider Field. We had no idea where we would really end up, or how good/bad our seats would be. For some odd reason, fate dealt us an incredible hand. We were TWENTY rows from the FRONT of the stage. It was unbelievable. It was phenomenal. Beautiful. Amazing, the stage a work of art. A "moment". Ahhhhhhhhhh, life is good. We then realize, we are totally and completely stuck. We were surrounded by U2 crazies, and realized we were in the fight for our lives. If we so much as sneezed and shifted .45 mm to the right, our spot was edged out, gone. So we fought the good fight, and didn't move a single foot ALL NIGHT LONG. No, not even for a beer. No, not even for a hot dog. And no, not even for a U2 360 tour t-shirt.
However, the payoff was HUGE. The concert was incredible. Snow Patrol opened and the weather was perfect. They sounded great, and the stage was unreal. It's the biggest stage ever made, and the vision it must've taken to create is something I can't comprehend. Bono and the boys came on at 8:40 and we rocked on to "With out Without you" "Where the streets have no name", "I still haven't found what I'm looking for" and many more.. There was only one small problem, and I am here forth voicing my disclaimer. Those of you ladies who shave your arms, I do not mean this at you, simply at the idea of the stubbles. Yes our spots were ideal, but I didn't speak to the guests around us. I had a lovely young 20 something by me, who seemed quiet and content with just watching the show.. I thought, sweet, not to tall, comfortable, and doesn't smell. Well, I counted my eggs before they hatched. So the concert started, and everyone was really getting into the music. He was amazing, and everyone was dancing. At one point I was jumping/dancing with the rest of the crowd and felt a sharp pain. SWEET JESUS.... is that...nooo..
So a couple songs go by, and another one comes on that really gets everyone moving. Again I start to jump/ really get into what Bono was belting. ..Scratch, Scratch.... mystery confirmed. stubble.. arm stubble. Bristly, no frills, couple day old stubble. I was rubbing my arms against a wool coat with needles!!!! This cannot happen, not on this day!
Very few times since high school basketball have I brought back Dwight Howard moves.. but tonight, this was a special exception. My arm would've been raw, or I would've gone insane, because every moment we moved created a furor of sharp thistle against my sanitary arm. ... So, one elbow here, one pivot there, and we were both pleasantly readjusted. Crisis averted. I gave her a friendly smile, like 'oppp, sorry, just re-adjusting', and she smiled back and shifted abit away from me to see in between two different heads, and just like that (!) we were no longer touching!!!!
All was well, Bono gave a performance like Chicago had never seen, I got to see and thoroughly enjoy one of the best groups of present history, and I did not have to perform a complete box out while 'Bic'ing this poor girl's arms. Win/win/win.
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