jobob
Rock n' Roll Doggie ALL ACCESS
A Story Without Me 19: It's a Wonderful Marriage
Notes/Disclaimer: I love "It's a Wonderful Life," that classic holiday movie where the hero is shown the importance of his life. And I'm writing about a U2-less universe. So, since I've twisted everything around in my alternate universe, I'm going to twist it back and cross it over with "It's a Wonderful Life." And add some humor.
This chapter should have been posted before chapter 18, but I'd finished chapter 18 first, so up it went. So these holiday chapters are out of sequence. This chapter is also based on my experiences during my Tour of the Vertigo Tour, and something from Time's Person of the Year profile of Bono. (Let's just say I now wish I'd spent more time in Boston Common.) There is f-word usage here, but I'm writing about B/Bono. As I always say, "This is fiction. B's based on Bono. I don't know Bono." I never met Frank Capra, Jimmy Stewart, or the actor who played Clarence Oddbody the angel, either. Happy Festivus and Merry Christmas, dear readers.
For my nonfiction accounts of my Tour of the Vertigo Tour experiences (and whatever else I've been journaling now that the U.S. tour's over), click on View Journal.
It's late November, early December. You and B have been doing better since Thanksgiving. You argue less, you're much more patient with each other. Things aren't perfect, but they are better. You're looking forward to your first Christmas together. And to spending the week between Christmas and New Years in Dublin, to meet B's family and to go to Dave's New Years wedding. Still, sometimes you wonder, why did you marry someone you hardly knew? Can you really make it work?
One weeknight, while you're relaxing at home, you conduct a secret taste test with your favorite wine snob. You pour your husband a glass of the cheap stuff from your favorite combination gourmet/natural foods store and beer and wine shop.
"Not my usual fine vintage, but not a bad little wine," B tells you after he finishes his glass.
"Really. Because it's that 'Three-Buck-Chuck' Chardonnay you always like to make fun of when we're in the store," you tell him. "More, love?"
After he's finished the white (and you've had a few too many glasses of red), the two of you make your way, giggling, to bed.
*****
Around 2 a.m., there's a noise and a light in the backyard. "I'll investigate, love," B tells you, reaching for his white bathrobe, a t-shirt -- and sweatpants. Clothed, B walks through the house, finds and puts on his thick-soled black shoes, and walks out the kitchen door to find a yellow, lemon-shaped spaceship in the backyard. There's a bearded, beanied man at the end of the ramp.
"Dave?" B asks. "What the fuck is this? Where did you come from? Is this what happens when I drink cheap wine?"
"Hello, B. No, it's not the cheap wine. I am The Edge, and I am from The Future. I'm here to take you to Boston. The band has two big shows there this week. And I have to take the ship to MIT for maintenance."
"Why the feck does it look like a lemon on stilts?"
"That was your idea back in the nineties. Come on in and we'll explain everything. We already left a note for your wife."
"We?"
"Adam and Larry are also here. We're all in a band together, called U2."
"U-too?"
"We really don't like the band's name either. But it looked good on a t-shirt way back in the day. Come on, get in before we beam you in."
*******
You wake up around 3:30 a.m. to find B's half of the bed empty and cold. You put on your own white robe and start downstairs. He said he heard a noise in the backyard and saw light, but since you were half asleep (and a little drunk) you don't remember it all that well.
You go into your living room. There's a note on your computer desk: "J.: Sorry. I had to leave you. B."
"He's left me," you cry, as you hold the note, "B's left me! It's almost Christmas! B, baby, please, come home!"
But maybe he shouldn't come home. He would be so, so much better off without me. He could be a rock star, you sob to yourself as you cry on your living room couch. Who knows what B's life would have been like, what he would have accomplished, if he would have stayed in that band and they had signed that recording contract back in the late 1970s, you think. He would have written great songs, become a famous singer. Maybe he would have even put on a benefit concert to help Africa!
"We never should have met! He'd be a rock star if we hadn't met!" you sob.
"You think so?" a kindly middle-aged woman asks you. "Because, dear, I can show you what B's life is like as a rock star."
Is like as a rock star? Where did she come from? you ask yourself. Maybe B's right about cheap wine ... "Really? Are you my guardian angel?"
"Yes, I am. I'm new to your case. Angel Clare, Second Class." She's wearing jeans, a stretch knit top, and a hoodie sweatshirt with wings printed on the shoulders and the back.
"No real wings yet, Clare?"
"No, I don't have my wings yet. But maybe with your help ... Anyway, if you want to see what your husband's life is like as a rock star, there's no time like the present to begin. Try a Google search for your husband's name, dear." She points towards the PC in your living room.
"So you use Google 'up there,' Clare?" you ask. Google returns about 388,000 results for B's real name. But "Paul" and "Hewson" are common names. They couldn't all be sites about him.
"Why, yes. Google's everywhere. And He provides us with some incredible technology 'there.' You would be amazed at our iPods. And you can get anything you want on our iTunes, audio or video, absolutely no charge."
"Sounds heavenly."
"Oh, it is. Google 'Bono,' dear," Clare suggests. "B-o-n-o."
"Bono?" you ask. "Like Sonny Bono? Or pro bono?"
"Yes, but pronounced differently. Bono was a teenage nickname which your husband now uses as his stage name in this universe. See what you get for Bono."
"About 17,600,000 results for Bono?!?"
"Well, dear, back in the 1980s, Bono became a very big rock star. 2005 was an incredible year for him. He and the band, U2, entered the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ..."
"But he's only 45 years old!"
"Even so, it was U2's first year of eligibility for the Rock Hall. They also won Grammys, had a very successful concert tour. Why, because of his lobbying efforts on Africa's behalf, some people even thought Bono should have become the new World Bank president."
"Huh?" Isn't this the weirdest stuff you've ever heard. Your husband. A rock star. Running the World Bank. What exactly is the World Bank, anyway?
"And he was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. And not for the first time, I understand."
Nobel Prize nominations? Now it just got weirder. "They don't give Nobel Prizes to rock stars," you point out to Clare.
"That's what Bono said, and he doesn't have one. But the Nobel committee had to have short-listed a rock star when he was nominated for personally lobbying the world's governments on behalf of Africa -- and his efforts helped convince the G8 nations, the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund to forgive billions of dollars of Third World debt," Clare tells you.
"Oh. My. God. He did that?"
"You always said your husband could make you do just about anything when he turned on his Irish charm, didn't you?"
You're too stunned for a witty reply. You feel faint. "Clare. Can I ... Can I see him? Can I see Bono? And his band? Please? I have to see him ..."
"Their North American tour is ending. They are in Boston on the fourth and fifth. Two sold-out shows. U2 is very popular in Boston; they and their fans consider Boston their American home. Maybe you and I should wait and go to their show in Cleveland on the tenth? Or in St. Louis? Those shows would be sold-out too; U2 quickly sold out everywhere in North America. Except in Detroit, for some odd reason ..."
"No, Clare, no! I can't wait! I have to see B ... Bono, soon!"
"I thought you'd say that." A cell phone trills. "Pardon me. Call from Headquarters." She turns to you before opening the small silver cell phone. "We don't need these to communicate with Headquarters; we just use these here on Earth so we appear to fit in. 'Yes, I was just about to call you! We need U2 tickets for the fourth in Boston. Oh, you can get her there, near him? And reservations at that hotel? Oh, Michael, you're an angel! Maybe I finally will be after this. Bless you!'"
Almost immediately after she closes the phone, a GOD delivery truck pulls up in your driveway. (You thought that was just some blaspemous-sounding delivery business name.) "Nice to see you, Clare," the white uniformed delivery man says as he hands her an envelope and package. "Good luck earning those wings."
"Here you are, Jo dear," she says, handing you the envelope. "General Admission tickets for us for the Boston concert on the fourth. Our hotel room reservation. And plane tickets. You don't have much time to get ready. Might I suggest you listen to his music, investigate some fan web sites, and read Bono's memoirs in between packing your things?"
"A plane ticket? We still need to fly on a plane to Boston? Oh, yeah, sorry. Are you sure you're not my fairy godmother? Or a ticket scalper?"
"No, dear. I'm your guardian angel-in-training." Clare hands you the package. You open it and find: A copy of Bono In Conversation. A black and red iPod. A DVD. And the URL to Interference.com. "The book is the closest thing to Bono's memoir. The iPod has hundreds of the band's songs on it; Bono wrote most of the lyrics and sings all but a few of the songs. The DVD is of a famous concert near their home in Ireland in 2001. And try the Pleba forums on Interference.com, dear. They know a lot about your husband, and they post many pictures of him. Pretend you're just another fan of your husband's, um, performances. But be brave and be prepared -- they think Bono's very desirable."
"I know my husband is very ... desirable."
****
"So if you Google my stage name, you really do get over 17 million hits?" B asks The Edge from The Future.
"Fan sites, U2's official site, and news articles."
"News articles?"
"Not only are you a rock star, you're also a political activist -- you've even become a respected authority on Africa. You were short-listed for the 2005 Nobel Peace Prize. You helped stage the biggest rock concert in history to call attention to Africa's problems and lobby the G8 nations. U2's Vertigo Tour was the biggest concert tour of the year, and it's not quite over yet. You may even be Time magazine's next Person of the Year."
"My God. I really am a fucking Rock Star, aren't I?"
"You're also a devout Christian, so please watch your language here in America, Bono -- I mean, B. Especially if we go on live television."
****
You read, listen to music, watch the DVD. And you fall in love. Not just with Bono, but with the band. They're good. Great, in fact. Very passionate, very powerful. They rock! But you can tell these four can play just about anything -- pop, folk, country, even disco and a little opera -- in a style all their own.
And you brave the Pleba forums. Yes, there are women around the world -- Plebans -- who, um, desire, your husband. And who also desire Adam, Larry, and Edge. Some of them even fancy the band's manager, Paul. But even though they can be a little scary about their love of the band, they're also creative and funny. And they are friends. They spend hours posting in the forums together, they go to U2 concerts together. "See you in Boston!" they told you. Even though they don't know you from, well, Adam.
****
Meanwhile, back at the lemon yellow spaceship, B asks The Edge from The Future if he can take a look at what your life would have been like without him.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Edge asks him. "You might not like what you see and what I have to tell you."
"I have to know." B tells Edge.
"She's closing up the library!"
"What's so bad about that, Edge? J is a librarian. I'm glad to see she has her job."
"Well, she's going home alone. You do remember that she lost her job in September?"
"Unfortunately, I do."
"You may not know how she lost her job. Remember how you used to kiss her in the library when you thought no one was watching?"
B smiles at the memories. "Oh, yes."
"Her supervisor was watching. She saw you two -- if you'll pardon the pun -- a few times, and told J you needed to stop it or take it outside. J tried to tell you, but ..."
B frowns. "Oh, no. I didn't take her seriously; I thought she was just flirting with me when she told me we couldn't kiss in the library."
"Then, when she told her supervisor she was pregnant, her supervisor worried J would begin to concentrate more on motherhood and less on librarianship."
"Even though she was always such a hard worker and a dedicated and loyal employee?"
"Her supervisor also thought you had somehow managed to do more than kiss on library property."
"We didn't."
"It didn't matter. When the library board started cutting the library's budget, J's supervisor and the library director decided that even though it looked cruel, they would cut the budget by eliminating J's job."
"So if she hadn't met me, she wouldn't have lost her job."
"But she would be the stereotypical librarian. A middle-aged spinster, spending too much of her time among books. And, also, computers."
*****
You and Clare fly -- from Metro Airport -- to Boston on Dec. 2, and take a taxi to your hotel. A boutique hotel near the Garden (officially known as the Fleet Center, or the TD Banknorth Garden, but the natives just call it the Garden).
"Good thing Heaven's paying for this, because the room rate's probably sky-high," you say to your angelic roommate.
As you wash up after your trip, you look at your hand. No engagement or wedding rings on the third finger of your left hand. "Clare, what's happened to my rings from B?" you anxiously ask her when you come out of the bathroom.
"Since you have never even met your husband, now you don't have any engagement or wedding rings," she tells you.
*****
After you and Clare unpack, you take the T (Boston's historic subway system) to see the historic sites on the Freedom Trail, walk in Boston Common, lose count of just how many Dunkin' Donuts shops there are in Beantown. And when you see the massive Boston Public Library (the country's first public library), you wonder if they have any Librarian I (entry-level) openings. The thought gives you pause -- no husband, no B, would mean you would be free to take a job anywhere.
And you meet other fans, in the pubs near the arena, in the GA line on Sunday, and from the Pleba forums.
But you can't help but feel someone's missing.
****
"There she is!" B tells Edge as they look out onto Boston from the yellow spaceship. They see J on their plasma TV screens, laughing in a bar near the hotel as a group of twentysomething men from Vermont tell her and two other women (and an unseen Clare) about their jam band and how they may someday travel to Detroit to give a concert.
"See! She doesn't need me around. She's having a fine time in Beantown, without me. And what's she doing, talking to those other men?"
"B," Edge says. "J can be very self-sufficient. Like you, though, she does like to spend some time on her own. She's only talking to those other men; it's nothing serious. Don't you know she misses you when you're not around?"
*****
It's the afternoon of the fourth. You got up very early and waited in the cold and snowy weather for your very low-numbered GA wristband. Now, thanks to tips from your new Pleban friends, you're waiting, with them, in the snow, near the head of the GA line. You tried at the loading docks earlier in the afternoon to meet Bono (and Edge, Adam, and Larry) as they came in for sound check. No band, no luck.
"Did you see the Pleba pictures of Bono taking a few days off in Mexico?" one of your new friends asks you. "The one with the statue was so cute."
My husband just went to Mexico? He can't even count in Spanish -- he says catorce instead of cuatro! Fourteen instead of four! you think to yourself. "No, I don't think I saw those pictures," you calmly say. "Do you know how much longer it'll be before the band gets here or until they let us into the Garden? It's five-thirty already, and it's cold."
As you say that, a large black SUV pulls up, with Bono at the open rear passenger side window.
"Sorry we missed you earlier," he tells the line. "We're late for sound check! Enjoy the show tonight!" The SUV drives off.
****
The show was great, an excellent mix of their old and new songs. Even you could tell Bono was in fine form.
Thanks to your guardian angel, your ticket was "beeped in" to the ellipse. And, of course, you and Clare had prime spots right in front of Bono for the entire show, from the first notes of Wake Up to the last notes of the third -- third! -- encore.
Seeing the show from the ellipse was incredible. You were just a few feet away from the stage of a major rock concert! It was thrilling, exciting ... you could see every detail of the set, every nuance of the performance, the expressions on the band's faces ... just incredible. The fans with the flags who were pulled up on stage during One were very enthusiastic. For some reason, hearing Bono sing Bad live made you think of him when he was younger, much younger, maybe on the verge of stardom. As he sang the old song, you imagined him in his mid-twenties, young and wild, climbing up and down and jumping around -- maybe even off of -- the stage. And Fast Cars is a fun song to hear live. You love how they wanted to play "something you haven't heard before" for a crowd full of people who had obviously heard U2 many, many times before.
****
It's Monday morning after the show. After breakfast, Clare suggests you take the T to the Back Bay for another walk through the Common and more Freedom Trail sight-seeing. Even though it's snowy and kind of cold, you agree. It's either sightseeing or a morning of cable TV in your room as you pack for your afternoon flight home.
As you walk in the common you see a very familiar figure in a white cowboy hat, black leather jacket, reddish designer sunglasses, black jeans, and a scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth.
"B?" you say, hoping it's your B walking about the common with no bodyguard on a snowy morning.
"An old girfriend of mine used to call me B," he tells you. "But the world knows me as Bono. And you would be?"
"Jo," you tell him. "I was at last night's show, it was a great show. It's a pleasure to meet you, B-Bono. And a surprise to meet you here."
"I wanted to take a walk in the park before I started my day," Bono tells you. "Would you like an autograph, darlin'?"
******
"So J thinks Bono's me?" B asks The Edge from The Future as they watch J and Bono on the spaceship monitors.
"Bono's probably glad she's not trying to seduce him. Because he's just not that kind of a rock star."
*****
You quickly grab the biggest and best piece of paper you can find in your coat pocket: The Boston walking map they gave you at the common's visitors center. You give it to Bono along with the ballpoint pen from your hotel room.
Bono briefly looks at the map. "A visitors map. I see where we are," he tells you. "Where are you visiting Boston from, love?"
"Detroit," you tell Bono.
"The Motor City! So much great music has come from there, from Motown to Iggy Pop to Eminem."
"Don't forget The White Stripes, they're Detroiters too."
Bono laughs. "And The White Stripes. Right then." He scrawls something on your map for a moment, then hands it and your pen back to you. "A pleasure to meet you, Jo. I must be going; I'm glad you enjoyed last night's show." He bear hugs you, firmly and warmly, then leaves as quickly and suddenly as you met.
You look at your map. "BONO," it says, in small letters, across the green space of Boston Common and the adjoining Public Gardens.
Clare returns to your side. "He's one of the world's most famous and busiest men. You were lucky to get that autograph and that much attention from him. Someone else in his position may very well not have been so gracious. Many stars can be or seem rude to fans, as everyone knows. Especially if they thought they had been mistaken for someone else ..."
"Clare, I've seen enough. Where's the nearest T station?" You look around, hoping to see the subway stations at the park's edge. "Let's go. Now."
"You don't want to see what else Bono's doing today? He's about to visit Harvard and discuss ways to end world poverty. An unusual way for a rock star to spend his free time, wouldn't you say? Oh, to be a fly on the wall for those talks! I could sneak us in, they'd never know we were there. And I could make sure we're back in plenty of time for our flight. So, Jo, whatta say?"
"Clare, please, let's go home. Bono can be a rock star in his world, but I want B back in mine. I'm so lucky to have B. I want to celebrate Christmas and New Years with him, not just this year, but every year. I want us to live together, worship together, travel together, do all sorts of things together. I think I want to have a family with him! I want to make our marriage last! But only if he'll have me, of course."
"Then let's get you home."
****
You don't remember your trip home from Boston to Detroit. Or even your T rides from Boston Common to your hotel to Logan Airport. All you know is, now you're sitting in your living room and it's dark outside. Is is Monday night?
You look at your left hand. Your wedding and engagement rings -- diamonds on rings of gold -- are back on your ring finger.
Your front door opens, and B walks in. His dress coat on, briefcase in one hand, taking off his dress hat with the other hand. Home from another day at work.
"You're home! Oh, B, you're home!" you say, running to him and throwing your arms around your waist as he unbuttons his coat. "I missed you so much! Welcome home!"
"Hello, J. I don't think you've been this happy to see me come home from work since the night after our wedding night," B tells you. "Actually, I've missed you, too."
You hold each other for a moment. Suddenly, you hear a bell ring. It sounds like an old-style telephone bell.
"Oh, feck," B tells you. "That's my new cell ring tone. It's just like the bell of the phone we had when I was growing up. I'll let voice mail get it." He continues to hold you as the phone stops ringing.
"Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." You suddenly say the classic movie line.
"That's an old movie line, isn't it, J?" B asks you.
"That's right, B." But it could be true. Atta girl, Clare! you think to yourself.
Notes/Disclaimer: I love "It's a Wonderful Life," that classic holiday movie where the hero is shown the importance of his life. And I'm writing about a U2-less universe. So, since I've twisted everything around in my alternate universe, I'm going to twist it back and cross it over with "It's a Wonderful Life." And add some humor.
This chapter should have been posted before chapter 18, but I'd finished chapter 18 first, so up it went. So these holiday chapters are out of sequence. This chapter is also based on my experiences during my Tour of the Vertigo Tour, and something from Time's Person of the Year profile of Bono. (Let's just say I now wish I'd spent more time in Boston Common.) There is f-word usage here, but I'm writing about B/Bono. As I always say, "This is fiction. B's based on Bono. I don't know Bono." I never met Frank Capra, Jimmy Stewart, or the actor who played Clarence Oddbody the angel, either. Happy Festivus and Merry Christmas, dear readers.
For my nonfiction accounts of my Tour of the Vertigo Tour experiences (and whatever else I've been journaling now that the U.S. tour's over), click on View Journal.
It's late November, early December. You and B have been doing better since Thanksgiving. You argue less, you're much more patient with each other. Things aren't perfect, but they are better. You're looking forward to your first Christmas together. And to spending the week between Christmas and New Years in Dublin, to meet B's family and to go to Dave's New Years wedding. Still, sometimes you wonder, why did you marry someone you hardly knew? Can you really make it work?
One weeknight, while you're relaxing at home, you conduct a secret taste test with your favorite wine snob. You pour your husband a glass of the cheap stuff from your favorite combination gourmet/natural foods store and beer and wine shop.
"Not my usual fine vintage, but not a bad little wine," B tells you after he finishes his glass.
"Really. Because it's that 'Three-Buck-Chuck' Chardonnay you always like to make fun of when we're in the store," you tell him. "More, love?"
After he's finished the white (and you've had a few too many glasses of red), the two of you make your way, giggling, to bed.
*****
Around 2 a.m., there's a noise and a light in the backyard. "I'll investigate, love," B tells you, reaching for his white bathrobe, a t-shirt -- and sweatpants. Clothed, B walks through the house, finds and puts on his thick-soled black shoes, and walks out the kitchen door to find a yellow, lemon-shaped spaceship in the backyard. There's a bearded, beanied man at the end of the ramp.
"Dave?" B asks. "What the fuck is this? Where did you come from? Is this what happens when I drink cheap wine?"
"Hello, B. No, it's not the cheap wine. I am The Edge, and I am from The Future. I'm here to take you to Boston. The band has two big shows there this week. And I have to take the ship to MIT for maintenance."
"Why the feck does it look like a lemon on stilts?"
"That was your idea back in the nineties. Come on in and we'll explain everything. We already left a note for your wife."
"We?"
"Adam and Larry are also here. We're all in a band together, called U2."
"U-too?"
"We really don't like the band's name either. But it looked good on a t-shirt way back in the day. Come on, get in before we beam you in."
*******
You wake up around 3:30 a.m. to find B's half of the bed empty and cold. You put on your own white robe and start downstairs. He said he heard a noise in the backyard and saw light, but since you were half asleep (and a little drunk) you don't remember it all that well.
You go into your living room. There's a note on your computer desk: "J.: Sorry. I had to leave you. B."
"He's left me," you cry, as you hold the note, "B's left me! It's almost Christmas! B, baby, please, come home!"
But maybe he shouldn't come home. He would be so, so much better off without me. He could be a rock star, you sob to yourself as you cry on your living room couch. Who knows what B's life would have been like, what he would have accomplished, if he would have stayed in that band and they had signed that recording contract back in the late 1970s, you think. He would have written great songs, become a famous singer. Maybe he would have even put on a benefit concert to help Africa!
"We never should have met! He'd be a rock star if we hadn't met!" you sob.
"You think so?" a kindly middle-aged woman asks you. "Because, dear, I can show you what B's life is like as a rock star."
Is like as a rock star? Where did she come from? you ask yourself. Maybe B's right about cheap wine ... "Really? Are you my guardian angel?"
"Yes, I am. I'm new to your case. Angel Clare, Second Class." She's wearing jeans, a stretch knit top, and a hoodie sweatshirt with wings printed on the shoulders and the back.
"No real wings yet, Clare?"
"No, I don't have my wings yet. But maybe with your help ... Anyway, if you want to see what your husband's life is like as a rock star, there's no time like the present to begin. Try a Google search for your husband's name, dear." She points towards the PC in your living room.
"So you use Google 'up there,' Clare?" you ask. Google returns about 388,000 results for B's real name. But "Paul" and "Hewson" are common names. They couldn't all be sites about him.
"Why, yes. Google's everywhere. And He provides us with some incredible technology 'there.' You would be amazed at our iPods. And you can get anything you want on our iTunes, audio or video, absolutely no charge."
"Sounds heavenly."
"Oh, it is. Google 'Bono,' dear," Clare suggests. "B-o-n-o."
"Bono?" you ask. "Like Sonny Bono? Or pro bono?"
"Yes, but pronounced differently. Bono was a teenage nickname which your husband now uses as his stage name in this universe. See what you get for Bono."
"About 17,600,000 results for Bono?!?"
"Well, dear, back in the 1980s, Bono became a very big rock star. 2005 was an incredible year for him. He and the band, U2, entered the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame ..."
"But he's only 45 years old!"
"Even so, it was U2's first year of eligibility for the Rock Hall. They also won Grammys, had a very successful concert tour. Why, because of his lobbying efforts on Africa's behalf, some people even thought Bono should have become the new World Bank president."
"Huh?" Isn't this the weirdest stuff you've ever heard. Your husband. A rock star. Running the World Bank. What exactly is the World Bank, anyway?
"And he was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize. And not for the first time, I understand."
Nobel Prize nominations? Now it just got weirder. "They don't give Nobel Prizes to rock stars," you point out to Clare.
"That's what Bono said, and he doesn't have one. But the Nobel committee had to have short-listed a rock star when he was nominated for personally lobbying the world's governments on behalf of Africa -- and his efforts helped convince the G8 nations, the World Bank and the International Monetary Fund to forgive billions of dollars of Third World debt," Clare tells you.
"Oh. My. God. He did that?"
"You always said your husband could make you do just about anything when he turned on his Irish charm, didn't you?"
You're too stunned for a witty reply. You feel faint. "Clare. Can I ... Can I see him? Can I see Bono? And his band? Please? I have to see him ..."
"Their North American tour is ending. They are in Boston on the fourth and fifth. Two sold-out shows. U2 is very popular in Boston; they and their fans consider Boston their American home. Maybe you and I should wait and go to their show in Cleveland on the tenth? Or in St. Louis? Those shows would be sold-out too; U2 quickly sold out everywhere in North America. Except in Detroit, for some odd reason ..."
"No, Clare, no! I can't wait! I have to see B ... Bono, soon!"
"I thought you'd say that." A cell phone trills. "Pardon me. Call from Headquarters." She turns to you before opening the small silver cell phone. "We don't need these to communicate with Headquarters; we just use these here on Earth so we appear to fit in. 'Yes, I was just about to call you! We need U2 tickets for the fourth in Boston. Oh, you can get her there, near him? And reservations at that hotel? Oh, Michael, you're an angel! Maybe I finally will be after this. Bless you!'"
Almost immediately after she closes the phone, a GOD delivery truck pulls up in your driveway. (You thought that was just some blaspemous-sounding delivery business name.) "Nice to see you, Clare," the white uniformed delivery man says as he hands her an envelope and package. "Good luck earning those wings."
"Here you are, Jo dear," she says, handing you the envelope. "General Admission tickets for us for the Boston concert on the fourth. Our hotel room reservation. And plane tickets. You don't have much time to get ready. Might I suggest you listen to his music, investigate some fan web sites, and read Bono's memoirs in between packing your things?"
"A plane ticket? We still need to fly on a plane to Boston? Oh, yeah, sorry. Are you sure you're not my fairy godmother? Or a ticket scalper?"
"No, dear. I'm your guardian angel-in-training." Clare hands you the package. You open it and find: A copy of Bono In Conversation. A black and red iPod. A DVD. And the URL to Interference.com. "The book is the closest thing to Bono's memoir. The iPod has hundreds of the band's songs on it; Bono wrote most of the lyrics and sings all but a few of the songs. The DVD is of a famous concert near their home in Ireland in 2001. And try the Pleba forums on Interference.com, dear. They know a lot about your husband, and they post many pictures of him. Pretend you're just another fan of your husband's, um, performances. But be brave and be prepared -- they think Bono's very desirable."
"I know my husband is very ... desirable."
****
"So if you Google my stage name, you really do get over 17 million hits?" B asks The Edge from The Future.
"Fan sites, U2's official site, and news articles."
"News articles?"
"Not only are you a rock star, you're also a political activist -- you've even become a respected authority on Africa. You were short-listed for the 2005 Nobel Peace Prize. You helped stage the biggest rock concert in history to call attention to Africa's problems and lobby the G8 nations. U2's Vertigo Tour was the biggest concert tour of the year, and it's not quite over yet. You may even be Time magazine's next Person of the Year."
"My God. I really am a fucking Rock Star, aren't I?"
"You're also a devout Christian, so please watch your language here in America, Bono -- I mean, B. Especially if we go on live television."
****
You read, listen to music, watch the DVD. And you fall in love. Not just with Bono, but with the band. They're good. Great, in fact. Very passionate, very powerful. They rock! But you can tell these four can play just about anything -- pop, folk, country, even disco and a little opera -- in a style all their own.
And you brave the Pleba forums. Yes, there are women around the world -- Plebans -- who, um, desire, your husband. And who also desire Adam, Larry, and Edge. Some of them even fancy the band's manager, Paul. But even though they can be a little scary about their love of the band, they're also creative and funny. And they are friends. They spend hours posting in the forums together, they go to U2 concerts together. "See you in Boston!" they told you. Even though they don't know you from, well, Adam.
****
Meanwhile, back at the lemon yellow spaceship, B asks The Edge from The Future if he can take a look at what your life would have been like without him.
"Are you sure you want to know?" Edge asks him. "You might not like what you see and what I have to tell you."
"I have to know." B tells Edge.
"She's closing up the library!"
"What's so bad about that, Edge? J is a librarian. I'm glad to see she has her job."
"Well, she's going home alone. You do remember that she lost her job in September?"
"Unfortunately, I do."
"You may not know how she lost her job. Remember how you used to kiss her in the library when you thought no one was watching?"
B smiles at the memories. "Oh, yes."
"Her supervisor was watching. She saw you two -- if you'll pardon the pun -- a few times, and told J you needed to stop it or take it outside. J tried to tell you, but ..."
B frowns. "Oh, no. I didn't take her seriously; I thought she was just flirting with me when she told me we couldn't kiss in the library."
"Then, when she told her supervisor she was pregnant, her supervisor worried J would begin to concentrate more on motherhood and less on librarianship."
"Even though she was always such a hard worker and a dedicated and loyal employee?"
"Her supervisor also thought you had somehow managed to do more than kiss on library property."
"We didn't."
"It didn't matter. When the library board started cutting the library's budget, J's supervisor and the library director decided that even though it looked cruel, they would cut the budget by eliminating J's job."
"So if she hadn't met me, she wouldn't have lost her job."
"But she would be the stereotypical librarian. A middle-aged spinster, spending too much of her time among books. And, also, computers."
*****
You and Clare fly -- from Metro Airport -- to Boston on Dec. 2, and take a taxi to your hotel. A boutique hotel near the Garden (officially known as the Fleet Center, or the TD Banknorth Garden, but the natives just call it the Garden).
"Good thing Heaven's paying for this, because the room rate's probably sky-high," you say to your angelic roommate.
As you wash up after your trip, you look at your hand. No engagement or wedding rings on the third finger of your left hand. "Clare, what's happened to my rings from B?" you anxiously ask her when you come out of the bathroom.
"Since you have never even met your husband, now you don't have any engagement or wedding rings," she tells you.
*****
After you and Clare unpack, you take the T (Boston's historic subway system) to see the historic sites on the Freedom Trail, walk in Boston Common, lose count of just how many Dunkin' Donuts shops there are in Beantown. And when you see the massive Boston Public Library (the country's first public library), you wonder if they have any Librarian I (entry-level) openings. The thought gives you pause -- no husband, no B, would mean you would be free to take a job anywhere.
And you meet other fans, in the pubs near the arena, in the GA line on Sunday, and from the Pleba forums.
But you can't help but feel someone's missing.
****
"There she is!" B tells Edge as they look out onto Boston from the yellow spaceship. They see J on their plasma TV screens, laughing in a bar near the hotel as a group of twentysomething men from Vermont tell her and two other women (and an unseen Clare) about their jam band and how they may someday travel to Detroit to give a concert.
"See! She doesn't need me around. She's having a fine time in Beantown, without me. And what's she doing, talking to those other men?"
"B," Edge says. "J can be very self-sufficient. Like you, though, she does like to spend some time on her own. She's only talking to those other men; it's nothing serious. Don't you know she misses you when you're not around?"
*****
It's the afternoon of the fourth. You got up very early and waited in the cold and snowy weather for your very low-numbered GA wristband. Now, thanks to tips from your new Pleban friends, you're waiting, with them, in the snow, near the head of the GA line. You tried at the loading docks earlier in the afternoon to meet Bono (and Edge, Adam, and Larry) as they came in for sound check. No band, no luck.
"Did you see the Pleba pictures of Bono taking a few days off in Mexico?" one of your new friends asks you. "The one with the statue was so cute."
My husband just went to Mexico? He can't even count in Spanish -- he says catorce instead of cuatro! Fourteen instead of four! you think to yourself. "No, I don't think I saw those pictures," you calmly say. "Do you know how much longer it'll be before the band gets here or until they let us into the Garden? It's five-thirty already, and it's cold."
As you say that, a large black SUV pulls up, with Bono at the open rear passenger side window.
"Sorry we missed you earlier," he tells the line. "We're late for sound check! Enjoy the show tonight!" The SUV drives off.
****
The show was great, an excellent mix of their old and new songs. Even you could tell Bono was in fine form.
Thanks to your guardian angel, your ticket was "beeped in" to the ellipse. And, of course, you and Clare had prime spots right in front of Bono for the entire show, from the first notes of Wake Up to the last notes of the third -- third! -- encore.
Seeing the show from the ellipse was incredible. You were just a few feet away from the stage of a major rock concert! It was thrilling, exciting ... you could see every detail of the set, every nuance of the performance, the expressions on the band's faces ... just incredible. The fans with the flags who were pulled up on stage during One were very enthusiastic. For some reason, hearing Bono sing Bad live made you think of him when he was younger, much younger, maybe on the verge of stardom. As he sang the old song, you imagined him in his mid-twenties, young and wild, climbing up and down and jumping around -- maybe even off of -- the stage. And Fast Cars is a fun song to hear live. You love how they wanted to play "something you haven't heard before" for a crowd full of people who had obviously heard U2 many, many times before.
****
It's Monday morning after the show. After breakfast, Clare suggests you take the T to the Back Bay for another walk through the Common and more Freedom Trail sight-seeing. Even though it's snowy and kind of cold, you agree. It's either sightseeing or a morning of cable TV in your room as you pack for your afternoon flight home.
As you walk in the common you see a very familiar figure in a white cowboy hat, black leather jacket, reddish designer sunglasses, black jeans, and a scarf wrapped around his neck and mouth.
"B?" you say, hoping it's your B walking about the common with no bodyguard on a snowy morning.
"An old girfriend of mine used to call me B," he tells you. "But the world knows me as Bono. And you would be?"
"Jo," you tell him. "I was at last night's show, it was a great show. It's a pleasure to meet you, B-Bono. And a surprise to meet you here."
"I wanted to take a walk in the park before I started my day," Bono tells you. "Would you like an autograph, darlin'?"
******
"So J thinks Bono's me?" B asks The Edge from The Future as they watch J and Bono on the spaceship monitors.
"Bono's probably glad she's not trying to seduce him. Because he's just not that kind of a rock star."
*****
You quickly grab the biggest and best piece of paper you can find in your coat pocket: The Boston walking map they gave you at the common's visitors center. You give it to Bono along with the ballpoint pen from your hotel room.
Bono briefly looks at the map. "A visitors map. I see where we are," he tells you. "Where are you visiting Boston from, love?"
"Detroit," you tell Bono.
"The Motor City! So much great music has come from there, from Motown to Iggy Pop to Eminem."
"Don't forget The White Stripes, they're Detroiters too."
Bono laughs. "And The White Stripes. Right then." He scrawls something on your map for a moment, then hands it and your pen back to you. "A pleasure to meet you, Jo. I must be going; I'm glad you enjoyed last night's show." He bear hugs you, firmly and warmly, then leaves as quickly and suddenly as you met.
You look at your map. "BONO," it says, in small letters, across the green space of Boston Common and the adjoining Public Gardens.
Clare returns to your side. "He's one of the world's most famous and busiest men. You were lucky to get that autograph and that much attention from him. Someone else in his position may very well not have been so gracious. Many stars can be or seem rude to fans, as everyone knows. Especially if they thought they had been mistaken for someone else ..."
"Clare, I've seen enough. Where's the nearest T station?" You look around, hoping to see the subway stations at the park's edge. "Let's go. Now."
"You don't want to see what else Bono's doing today? He's about to visit Harvard and discuss ways to end world poverty. An unusual way for a rock star to spend his free time, wouldn't you say? Oh, to be a fly on the wall for those talks! I could sneak us in, they'd never know we were there. And I could make sure we're back in plenty of time for our flight. So, Jo, whatta say?"
"Clare, please, let's go home. Bono can be a rock star in his world, but I want B back in mine. I'm so lucky to have B. I want to celebrate Christmas and New Years with him, not just this year, but every year. I want us to live together, worship together, travel together, do all sorts of things together. I think I want to have a family with him! I want to make our marriage last! But only if he'll have me, of course."
"Then let's get you home."
****
You don't remember your trip home from Boston to Detroit. Or even your T rides from Boston Common to your hotel to Logan Airport. All you know is, now you're sitting in your living room and it's dark outside. Is is Monday night?
You look at your left hand. Your wedding and engagement rings -- diamonds on rings of gold -- are back on your ring finger.
Your front door opens, and B walks in. His dress coat on, briefcase in one hand, taking off his dress hat with the other hand. Home from another day at work.
"You're home! Oh, B, you're home!" you say, running to him and throwing your arms around your waist as he unbuttons his coat. "I missed you so much! Welcome home!"
"Hello, J. I don't think you've been this happy to see me come home from work since the night after our wedding night," B tells you. "Actually, I've missed you, too."
You hold each other for a moment. Suddenly, you hear a bell ring. It sounds like an old-style telephone bell.
"Oh, feck," B tells you. "That's my new cell ring tone. It's just like the bell of the phone we had when I was growing up. I'll let voice mail get it." He continues to hold you as the phone stops ringing.
"Every time a bell rings, an angel gets its wings." You suddenly say the classic movie line.
"That's an old movie line, isn't it, J?" B asks you.
"That's right, B." But it could be true. Atta girl, Clare! you think to yourself.
AWESOME chapter, SG!
