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"The others don't count me as a musician. In fact the only way to get Edge to play the guitar is when I start playing it." -- Bono |
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"The others don't count me as a musician. In fact the only way to get Edge to play the guitar is when I start playing it." -- Bono |
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U2 3D Sparks True Fan-demonium
@U2,
January 22, 2008
U2 isn't on tour, but it sure feels like they are. I've been looking forward to U2 3D for months, and I really started getting jazzed a few weeks ago when I learned Indianapolis would have a free sneak preview on Jan. 21. I marked it on my calendar; I told all my friends; I made some new U2 friends, and we arranged to meet before the show. I knew I was in full tour-anticipation mode when I had a dream a few days ago about being at the screening. All my @U2 friends made the trip to Indy for the show. Sherry was driving in from Boston but took the wrong exit about 40 miles east of the city. Tassoula had a fancy GPS tracker on her cell phone, so we were guiding Sherry as we watched her make her way west. Then I woke up and realized: Dude, you must chill. But I'm not alone. My new U2 friend Pam said her husband kept trying to remind her that it's just a movie, but then he realized she was in her "full-on U2 obsessive dorkitude." So are we all, and we're proud of it! Pam, her friend Julie and my cousin Kim got together for drinks and dinner before the show. Pam and Julie knew me by my "Love and Peace or Else" T-shirt. I toyed with the idea of calling out, "Hello, hello!" and seeing who hollered back with an "Hola!" but figured I should be more subtle in public. Kim, who enjoys music in general but isn't a huge U2 fan, humored us and listened to our stories. Or was it mostly my stories? I fear that in my heightened state of "U2 obsessive dorkitude," I may have dominated the conversation. Apologies, ladies! One thing I love about U2 fans is that once you meet, it's as if you've been longtime friends. When I later told my cousin that I had just met the women we had dinner with, she didn't believe me. And I can see why: We just fell into a natural rhythm of conversation as if we were old friends who had lost touch for a while. As we hurried across the street to the theater, Pam and I had the same idea: shoot photos of the giant poster hanging outside. And the one inside the door. Oooh, and there's another, even bigger one we can pose with! And postcard-sized ones we can take home for our scrapbooks! We entered the theater to the sounds of "Twilight." Now that's something you don't get at a concert: a taste of that night's artist before the show! They continued with Boy until showtime. As I bounced in my seat singing along, I realized I was breaking a sweat. And for someone who usually leaves her coat on in the theater because it's so cold, that was a sign that I was seriously hyped. As the screening's organizer, Indy Hub, welcomed us to the theater, my heart was pounding with anticipation. It was no Arcade Fire, but I knew that was the cue that it was almost showtime. When the lights finally dimmed and small dots of color started to flicker on the enormous screen filling my field of vision, I couldn't stop grinning. And when the music kicked in, I couldn't stop bouncing. Hopefully I didn't annoy the stranger to my right too much, but my cousin to my left definitely got a kick out of it. I admit I stifled a few urges to shout out an "Hola!" or "No more!" in response to Bono, and it took all the willpower I could muster not to reach out for his hand when it came toward me. But despite the tricks my eyes were playing on me and the enveloping sound of the on-screen audience that I often mistook for my neighbors in the theater, I behaved as if I were in a theater and not among the sweaty throngs of fans in Buenos Aires. I still experienced some of the same reactions I've had at concerts. I teared up as Bono hit the big note in "Miss Sarajevo." I got chills during my favorite songs. I was grinning constantly, although this time it was often at the intimate details I had never noticed when I was one among thousands in an arena or stadium. And with the South American fans seemingly within reach as they leapt from the screen, it was easy to overlook the subdued reaction from the actual people sitting around me. Let me amend that: the actual people sitting around me, except for my cousin and another friend. Kim was swinging to the music like I was. And we were both laughing at Andrea, who was sobbing with joy through half the movie. (I'm only laughing because I've been there, Andrea.) While the movie isn't (even) better than the real thing, it certainly is a good substitute for those long lags between tours. You know it was good when a friend tells you a couple of hours later that you're still grinning from your U2 high. And without the side effects of ringing ears and aching feet! © @U2/Watson, 2008.
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