BlueSilkenSky
Rock n' Roll Doggie VIP PASS
I better post my own work, or this story will be forgotten about...
Short chapter. But it's leading to something longer. And it's not completely true.
Thank you!” I exclaim in my best Portuguese, pulling my coat around me. My breath tumbles out into the air, shaping the words, and I feel like I’m the luckiest girl on Earth.
“You’re welcome,” the woman says back with a smile. And I walk away holding one ticket for the U2 show tonight and a backstage pass.
Of course, the first thing to do is slip the objects into my bag and securely zip it up. There’s no way I’m going to let anyone steal my prized tickets. I stride down the sidewalk, grinning up at the sun. Lisbon sure is a beautiful town.
Won’t Lina be jealous of me tonight? I flash back to the moment I left her, to our parting:
“There’s your plane,” Lina says to me, pointing down the hall. As a few people hurry to get onboard, I smile and give Lina a hug.
“Bye, Lina.”
“Goodbye, Marieke.” She is obviously wondering however will I be kept in check without her around. “Have fun on your trip!”
I lug my heavy bag down the tunnel, stop, and give her a wave. She flashes a very tiny smile. Our parting probably feels worse than she’d like to admit.
“Tell me all about it when you get back!” she calls, wavering, trying to let me just leave in peace.
“I will,” I say, and never look back. How funny it is that I’m using KLM Airlines, the first place I spoke with Bono.
I shake my head, shaking the memory out like water in my ears, and tip my head back to relax for a moment as I return to the hotel.
***
“It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right… hey baby, hey baby, it’s all right in Lisbon tonight!”
The screams are deafening. If I thought the Dutch people were a noisy audience, then surely the Portuguese blow us out of the water. I think it would probably make more sense to me if I were Portuguese myself. Of course I’m not… but listening to them going crazy, I almost wish I were.
The show is just as fabulous as before, although my seat isn’t as great as the GA ticket was. General admission was sold out this time, so I had to buy normal, seat tickets… and look where it got me? Too far from the band to properly enjoy my time.
Oh well. I can still see all the words on the screens, so I’m not missing much there.
I dance with myself throughout the whole show. I don’t care if the others join in. My singing makes up for all the ones who don’t open their mouths, or the ones who do open them but only to tell me to shut up. A tiny part of me can’t blame them- the noise isn’t all that great from here.
The band plays New Year’s Day. It’s just as great as the last show, and I’m delighted to hear my favorite song. Nothing, I realize, is quite the same when it’s live.
And finally, into the set, I hear the definite riff coming. This time all I can do is sit, as Lina had, and think long and hard about my words backstage. Did the band really heed my suggestion and play Bad because I asked them to?
And as the band wraps up Pride, I find myself shaking, anxious for the encore and a new glimpse of Mr. MacPhisto. My anxiety switches into despair as I long for someone I can share this night with. I’m all alone at a U2 concert, and my thoughts are only Lina should be here.
Then Edge, Adam, and Larry return to the stage, and as soon as The Edge launches into the Desire riff I forget all my troubles.
He makes as grand an entrance as at the last show. Those waving arms, that British accent as he calls “Honey, I’m home!”… it’s just too much for me.
“Lover, I’m off the streets. Gonna go where the bright lights and big city meet. With a red guitar…” He pauses. “On fire…”
And the most beautiful notes in the world stream from his mouth. “Desire,” he breaths, his clear pleasure in singing bending my body, closing my throat, making me want to scream my love out into the air. Not that he’ll hear me from these seats, however…
“Desire!” I scream. “I love you!” Now the fans around me really want me to shut up. I pity them, the ones who probably have no idea who this MacPhisto person is. But I know him. I’ve been in his arms.
“Desire!” he sings, and my heart continues to wrench. However, it’s in a good way. Who knew one man could have so much power over me?
The band finishes the song with a flourish, and MacPhisto grips the microphone and sings a capella.
“Moon River, wider than a mile! I’m crossing you in style, some day. Oh you dream maker! You heart breaker! Wherever I’m going, you’re going my way!”
He peers out into the crowd before anyone can react and remarks, “That’s a good little tune, now isn’t it? Do you know who I am?”
We all cheer. Most of us roar back to him- “YES!” I smile in my seat, thinking that I’m probably the only person in the stadium who truly knows who this man is.
“…Because I know who you are,” MacPhisto continues, appearing not to have heard us. I giggle as he adds, “And you’re very loud! And you speak awfully good English. I prefer to speak Irish myself…” I wonder why this is, for it’s clear MacPhisto is not Irish.
“But I do know you. I know you probably better than you know yourself.” He smiles. “Anyway… off with the horns, on with the show.”
He sweeps the horns off his head, and I watch as his hand throws them to the side, away on the stage. I wonder what he’ll do with them after the show.
We all cheer for a long while. I join in happily. When the applause dies down, MacPhisto clears his throat. “Round about this time every night, I like to make a telephone call. Sometimes even to the President of the United States! But not tonight. Tonight I’m going to call a taxi to take me home.” He makes for the telephone.
A few people boo, me included. How could the star of the show just leave us like this?
MacPhisto dials a number and we wait. After a while, a woman’s voice echoes through the stadium. “Teletaxis- alô, boa noite.”
“Hello, I’d like to order a taxi,” MacPhisto blurts. “Hello, could I order a taxi, please? Hello, d-do you speak any English?” I can’t tell from here, but the sound of his voice suggests that that intent expression is on his face once more. “My name is MacPhisto, and I’d like to order a taxi to take me home.”
I idly wonder where MacPhisto lives as we wait for a response. If there is one, I can’t make it out. Desperate now, MacPhisto tries again.
“What’s your name?” He pauses. “Hello, who am I speaking to? ...Oh, I know who I’m speaking to,” he hastily adds, catching himself.
We hear more noises coming from the phone, but nothing that sounds like a response.
“Hello?” MacPhisto finally ends, his voice disappointed.
Some people laugh, but I don’t. My heart beats for this poor man. I know one thing- I wouldn’t have hung up on him. Some people just aren’t me.
MacPhisto shakes his head and declares sadly, “I’m the last pop star… and they’ve hung up on me. Oh well.” With that, Ultraviolet begins.
This is the moment I really begin to curse my seat. The sound is fine, if a little bit distorted, but my view is crap. I can’t watch MacPhisto’s face as he sings, analyzing his features, and I can’t hold those blue eyes with mine, drowning in his gaze.
But the performance appears to be the same as the other concert. MacPhisto’s movements are similar to that time, except that his singing is different. I melt at the sound of the beautiful song. Then it reaches its climax, and MacPhisto changes the words.
“I was all fucked up, you were an opera in my bed! Now your love is a lightbulb, it just goes over my head.” I envision a sad face to match the voice.
“Baby, baby, baby, light my way.” The Edge joins in on the vocals. “Baby, baby, baby, light my way…”
“Oooooh, oooh,” MacPhisto sings in clear falsetto, and Edge backs him up. “Ooooh…”
“Ultraviolet light… ultraviolet light…”
MacPhisto raises his arms. “Baby, baby, baby! Baby, baby, baby… baby, baby, baby, light my way! Oh…”
Without knowing why, a scream forces itself from my throat. The fans around me glare, not for the first time tonight.
“Baby, baby, baby, light…” His voice is almost operatic. “My… way!”
MacPhisto suddenly slumps over, as if he’s lost all energy with the song. And With Or Without You begins.
The song’s not performed any differently from last show. However, this time I am too annoyed with my seating to pay much attention to the it. Before I know it, the song’s over and applause has started. Regret washes over me, but not for long as Love Is Blindness starts.
Now I am glad I’m not close to the stage. It would break my heart to watch MacPhisto’s expression now. I remember my first show, and tears well up in my eyes, but only briefly. The music still sounds good, but now I realize how large a role being able to see MacPhisto up close played in the extreme rush of emotion I felt back then.
And then it comes and shocks me. Edge dashes straight into the solo, and MacPhisto turns onto the B stage. He pulls a girl from the audience, and I see myself in her for a second before jealousy bites my soul.
She is so close- and I am so far away. I can do nothing but watch the couple swaying and wish I had something to throw at the girl. I want to be in his arms again. I want it… I want him…
Then two things happen at once. Edge’s solo ends and fear comes crashing down, taking my jealousy away. I shiver violently, looking up at the stars. The shaking is unrelated to the night air and to the cold tears that have finally come. I’m terrified and I don’t know why. No, that’s not true- I’m terrified of myself. What were those crazy thoughts I had a moment ago? Jealousy? Want? What the heck?
The others around me are probably glad I’ve gone quiet. I for one am NOT, because I’ve just missed the end of the song. There is, however, one last number…
“Wise men say only fools rush in…”
Now my section has finally caught the singing bug. “But I can’t help falling in love with you!”
MacPhisto is retreating from the stage. I want to call out to him- No! Come back! But there’s nothing I can do. My only ability is to sing until the song ends, and the band has disappeared.
Curse that thunderous applause! I want to just sit here and think for a moment. This show was so unlike my first. Could the seats have had something to do with it?
I wrap my arms around myself and wait until my section has cleared out. I wait to be alone under the dark sky, and then finally I get up and head off to redeem my backstage pass before it’s too late.
Can you tell I am a MacPhisto fan? :
Short chapter. But it's leading to something longer. And it's not completely true.
Thank you!” I exclaim in my best Portuguese, pulling my coat around me. My breath tumbles out into the air, shaping the words, and I feel like I’m the luckiest girl on Earth.
“You’re welcome,” the woman says back with a smile. And I walk away holding one ticket for the U2 show tonight and a backstage pass.
Of course, the first thing to do is slip the objects into my bag and securely zip it up. There’s no way I’m going to let anyone steal my prized tickets. I stride down the sidewalk, grinning up at the sun. Lisbon sure is a beautiful town.
Won’t Lina be jealous of me tonight? I flash back to the moment I left her, to our parting:
“There’s your plane,” Lina says to me, pointing down the hall. As a few people hurry to get onboard, I smile and give Lina a hug.
“Bye, Lina.”
“Goodbye, Marieke.” She is obviously wondering however will I be kept in check without her around. “Have fun on your trip!”
I lug my heavy bag down the tunnel, stop, and give her a wave. She flashes a very tiny smile. Our parting probably feels worse than she’d like to admit.
“Tell me all about it when you get back!” she calls, wavering, trying to let me just leave in peace.
“I will,” I say, and never look back. How funny it is that I’m using KLM Airlines, the first place I spoke with Bono.
I shake my head, shaking the memory out like water in my ears, and tip my head back to relax for a moment as I return to the hotel.
***
“It’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right, it’s all right… hey baby, hey baby, it’s all right in Lisbon tonight!”
The screams are deafening. If I thought the Dutch people were a noisy audience, then surely the Portuguese blow us out of the water. I think it would probably make more sense to me if I were Portuguese myself. Of course I’m not… but listening to them going crazy, I almost wish I were.
The show is just as fabulous as before, although my seat isn’t as great as the GA ticket was. General admission was sold out this time, so I had to buy normal, seat tickets… and look where it got me? Too far from the band to properly enjoy my time.
Oh well. I can still see all the words on the screens, so I’m not missing much there.
I dance with myself throughout the whole show. I don’t care if the others join in. My singing makes up for all the ones who don’t open their mouths, or the ones who do open them but only to tell me to shut up. A tiny part of me can’t blame them- the noise isn’t all that great from here.
The band plays New Year’s Day. It’s just as great as the last show, and I’m delighted to hear my favorite song. Nothing, I realize, is quite the same when it’s live.
And finally, into the set, I hear the definite riff coming. This time all I can do is sit, as Lina had, and think long and hard about my words backstage. Did the band really heed my suggestion and play Bad because I asked them to?
And as the band wraps up Pride, I find myself shaking, anxious for the encore and a new glimpse of Mr. MacPhisto. My anxiety switches into despair as I long for someone I can share this night with. I’m all alone at a U2 concert, and my thoughts are only Lina should be here.
Then Edge, Adam, and Larry return to the stage, and as soon as The Edge launches into the Desire riff I forget all my troubles.
He makes as grand an entrance as at the last show. Those waving arms, that British accent as he calls “Honey, I’m home!”… it’s just too much for me.
“Lover, I’m off the streets. Gonna go where the bright lights and big city meet. With a red guitar…” He pauses. “On fire…”
And the most beautiful notes in the world stream from his mouth. “Desire,” he breaths, his clear pleasure in singing bending my body, closing my throat, making me want to scream my love out into the air. Not that he’ll hear me from these seats, however…
“Desire!” I scream. “I love you!” Now the fans around me really want me to shut up. I pity them, the ones who probably have no idea who this MacPhisto person is. But I know him. I’ve been in his arms.
“Desire!” he sings, and my heart continues to wrench. However, it’s in a good way. Who knew one man could have so much power over me?
The band finishes the song with a flourish, and MacPhisto grips the microphone and sings a capella.
“Moon River, wider than a mile! I’m crossing you in style, some day. Oh you dream maker! You heart breaker! Wherever I’m going, you’re going my way!”
He peers out into the crowd before anyone can react and remarks, “That’s a good little tune, now isn’t it? Do you know who I am?”
We all cheer. Most of us roar back to him- “YES!” I smile in my seat, thinking that I’m probably the only person in the stadium who truly knows who this man is.
“…Because I know who you are,” MacPhisto continues, appearing not to have heard us. I giggle as he adds, “And you’re very loud! And you speak awfully good English. I prefer to speak Irish myself…” I wonder why this is, for it’s clear MacPhisto is not Irish.
“But I do know you. I know you probably better than you know yourself.” He smiles. “Anyway… off with the horns, on with the show.”
He sweeps the horns off his head, and I watch as his hand throws them to the side, away on the stage. I wonder what he’ll do with them after the show.
We all cheer for a long while. I join in happily. When the applause dies down, MacPhisto clears his throat. “Round about this time every night, I like to make a telephone call. Sometimes even to the President of the United States! But not tonight. Tonight I’m going to call a taxi to take me home.” He makes for the telephone.
A few people boo, me included. How could the star of the show just leave us like this?
MacPhisto dials a number and we wait. After a while, a woman’s voice echoes through the stadium. “Teletaxis- alô, boa noite.”
“Hello, I’d like to order a taxi,” MacPhisto blurts. “Hello, could I order a taxi, please? Hello, d-do you speak any English?” I can’t tell from here, but the sound of his voice suggests that that intent expression is on his face once more. “My name is MacPhisto, and I’d like to order a taxi to take me home.”
I idly wonder where MacPhisto lives as we wait for a response. If there is one, I can’t make it out. Desperate now, MacPhisto tries again.
“What’s your name?” He pauses. “Hello, who am I speaking to? ...Oh, I know who I’m speaking to,” he hastily adds, catching himself.
We hear more noises coming from the phone, but nothing that sounds like a response.
“Hello?” MacPhisto finally ends, his voice disappointed.
Some people laugh, but I don’t. My heart beats for this poor man. I know one thing- I wouldn’t have hung up on him. Some people just aren’t me.
MacPhisto shakes his head and declares sadly, “I’m the last pop star… and they’ve hung up on me. Oh well.” With that, Ultraviolet begins.
This is the moment I really begin to curse my seat. The sound is fine, if a little bit distorted, but my view is crap. I can’t watch MacPhisto’s face as he sings, analyzing his features, and I can’t hold those blue eyes with mine, drowning in his gaze.
But the performance appears to be the same as the other concert. MacPhisto’s movements are similar to that time, except that his singing is different. I melt at the sound of the beautiful song. Then it reaches its climax, and MacPhisto changes the words.
“I was all fucked up, you were an opera in my bed! Now your love is a lightbulb, it just goes over my head.” I envision a sad face to match the voice.
“Baby, baby, baby, light my way.” The Edge joins in on the vocals. “Baby, baby, baby, light my way…”
“Oooooh, oooh,” MacPhisto sings in clear falsetto, and Edge backs him up. “Ooooh…”
“Ultraviolet light… ultraviolet light…”
MacPhisto raises his arms. “Baby, baby, baby! Baby, baby, baby… baby, baby, baby, light my way! Oh…”
Without knowing why, a scream forces itself from my throat. The fans around me glare, not for the first time tonight.
“Baby, baby, baby, light…” His voice is almost operatic. “My… way!”
MacPhisto suddenly slumps over, as if he’s lost all energy with the song. And With Or Without You begins.
The song’s not performed any differently from last show. However, this time I am too annoyed with my seating to pay much attention to the it. Before I know it, the song’s over and applause has started. Regret washes over me, but not for long as Love Is Blindness starts.
Now I am glad I’m not close to the stage. It would break my heart to watch MacPhisto’s expression now. I remember my first show, and tears well up in my eyes, but only briefly. The music still sounds good, but now I realize how large a role being able to see MacPhisto up close played in the extreme rush of emotion I felt back then.
And then it comes and shocks me. Edge dashes straight into the solo, and MacPhisto turns onto the B stage. He pulls a girl from the audience, and I see myself in her for a second before jealousy bites my soul.
She is so close- and I am so far away. I can do nothing but watch the couple swaying and wish I had something to throw at the girl. I want to be in his arms again. I want it… I want him…
Then two things happen at once. Edge’s solo ends and fear comes crashing down, taking my jealousy away. I shiver violently, looking up at the stars. The shaking is unrelated to the night air and to the cold tears that have finally come. I’m terrified and I don’t know why. No, that’s not true- I’m terrified of myself. What were those crazy thoughts I had a moment ago? Jealousy? Want? What the heck?
The others around me are probably glad I’ve gone quiet. I for one am NOT, because I’ve just missed the end of the song. There is, however, one last number…
“Wise men say only fools rush in…”
Now my section has finally caught the singing bug. “But I can’t help falling in love with you!”
MacPhisto is retreating from the stage. I want to call out to him- No! Come back! But there’s nothing I can do. My only ability is to sing until the song ends, and the band has disappeared.
Curse that thunderous applause! I want to just sit here and think for a moment. This show was so unlike my first. Could the seats have had something to do with it?
I wrap my arms around myself and wait until my section has cleared out. I wait to be alone under the dark sky, and then finally I get up and head off to redeem my backstage pass before it’s too late.
Can you tell I am a MacPhisto fan? :
