HelloAngel
ONE love, blood, life
[SIMG]http://bonovox.interference.com/achtungcarrie/achtungcarriethumb.jpg[/SIMG]
By Carrie Alison, Chief Editor
For Memorial Day weekend, I took my boyfriend on a mini-break to Orlando for his birthday, and to reflect on the first five months of 2003 and what would transpire in the months to come. As we sat on the balcony of our hotel room, we sipped Sangria and gazed out across the lagoon and into the most hard to reach places of our minds that only a vacation can uncover.
I had a realization as we drove on I-4 toward Orlando on Saturday afternoon - that if U2 were anything to me, they were a highway. An Interstate. A Turnpike. They were the lines in the road I followed to show me which lines to cross and avoid. They were the signs of distance to show me how near, and how far I was to a goal and destination. They were the headlights to light my way across new territory and dark roads. They were hazard lights when the torrential rains of life beat down on me ? to blink when I needed to show the other drivers to just pass me by. U2 were the sturdy road underneath my feet and the speed limit I emblazoned across the roads I followed. They were the median dividing the to and fro of my years and experiences.
I then imagined what my life would be like without U2 as my highway.
I envisioned a highway without barriers and markers. I saw myself getting thrown from windshield to windshield and launched into oncoming traffic without a suit of armour to protect me from injury. I would ricochet from one obstacle to another without any real guidance to show me where to go, and how to surmount the obstacles that lay before me. I became confused, scared, and tearful. The highways of my life, once so full of magic and melody had suddenly become fast-paced and frightening. I felt paralyzed and instinctually looked around me for something familiar, something to show me where to go and how to get there. I couldn?t find a single name of a city or town that I recognized. I pulled out my road map and realized I was lost and had no destination.
Wine can do scary things.
I placed the glass of Sangria down on the balcony ledge, and slowly rose to my feet. I hurriedly ransacked my suitcase to find my photo album. I was certain my picture of Bono and Edge on stage in mid ?bullfight? was still there. I needed to see it. I needed to reassure myself that my highway, though possibly nothing more than a big training wheel ? was still there and still paved. Sure enough, on the very last page, there was Edge and Bono, melody surrounding them, the crowd's hands outstretched in reverence. I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling once again convinced my highway was paved with gold and good tunes, and that my deco license plate reading I Love U2 was no illusion, and no mistake.
Achtung Carrie?s mailbox is getting mighty lonely for letters from her loverlies. Won?t you visit? carrie@interference.com!
By Carrie Alison, Chief Editor
For Memorial Day weekend, I took my boyfriend on a mini-break to Orlando for his birthday, and to reflect on the first five months of 2003 and what would transpire in the months to come. As we sat on the balcony of our hotel room, we sipped Sangria and gazed out across the lagoon and into the most hard to reach places of our minds that only a vacation can uncover.
I had a realization as we drove on I-4 toward Orlando on Saturday afternoon - that if U2 were anything to me, they were a highway. An Interstate. A Turnpike. They were the lines in the road I followed to show me which lines to cross and avoid. They were the signs of distance to show me how near, and how far I was to a goal and destination. They were the headlights to light my way across new territory and dark roads. They were hazard lights when the torrential rains of life beat down on me ? to blink when I needed to show the other drivers to just pass me by. U2 were the sturdy road underneath my feet and the speed limit I emblazoned across the roads I followed. They were the median dividing the to and fro of my years and experiences.
I then imagined what my life would be like without U2 as my highway.
I envisioned a highway without barriers and markers. I saw myself getting thrown from windshield to windshield and launched into oncoming traffic without a suit of armour to protect me from injury. I would ricochet from one obstacle to another without any real guidance to show me where to go, and how to surmount the obstacles that lay before me. I became confused, scared, and tearful. The highways of my life, once so full of magic and melody had suddenly become fast-paced and frightening. I felt paralyzed and instinctually looked around me for something familiar, something to show me where to go and how to get there. I couldn?t find a single name of a city or town that I recognized. I pulled out my road map and realized I was lost and had no destination.
Wine can do scary things.
I placed the glass of Sangria down on the balcony ledge, and slowly rose to my feet. I hurriedly ransacked my suitcase to find my photo album. I was certain my picture of Bono and Edge on stage in mid ?bullfight? was still there. I needed to see it. I needed to reassure myself that my highway, though possibly nothing more than a big training wheel ? was still there and still paved. Sure enough, on the very last page, there was Edge and Bono, melody surrounding them, the crowd's hands outstretched in reverence. I lay back on the bed and stared at the ceiling once again convinced my highway was paved with gold and good tunes, and that my deco license plate reading I Love U2 was no illusion, and no mistake.
Achtung Carrie?s mailbox is getting mighty lonely for letters from her loverlies. Won?t you visit? carrie@interference.com!
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Carrie, beautiful written...I think you speak for many! Hope you had a nice weekend in Orlando, btw!
Noodle 
U2 
I only just now read your article. I'm impressed carrie. You be writin' some darn good words thar 
LOL
