HelloAngel
ONE love, blood, life
By Donna Vergara Williamson
2005.05
It's a beautiful day, blue skies all around me. I'm watching a perfect Chicago sunset outside of O'Hare. It's Bono's birthday, May 10, 2005. I'm so overwhelmed by the events of the last several days that I'm absolutely overcome with emotion. I've waited a long, long time to tell this story. Somehow, in my heart, I knew I had waited long enough. Boy was I ever right.
I've been a U2 fan from the beginning. I was a young mother with two beautiful sons when the Boys began their journey to become The World's Greatest Band. I was never able to physically join them at a concert but I've always been there in spirit. After struggling through some very difficult times, I met my wonderful husband in 1988; three years later, his daughter became the daughter I never had.
Back in November 2001, with three grown children, I decided it was time for me to do something I had always wanted to do. The Elevation Tour was winding down, tickets were going for big bucks, so out of desperation I contacted an eBay seller whose auction never reached reserve and convinced her to sell two tickets at less than face value to give an old U2 fan the chance to partake. We planned to drive from Virginia to Atlanta for the show but my selfless husband instead encouraged me to fly down and visit my old college roommate instead. What an opportunity to spend such a special time with her and revisit the good old days woo-hoo-ing at a great rock concert together. The experience is a whole volume for another day. When I returned to Virginia I vowed that next time I'd pay whatever it took. I was a changed woman; the term "live for today" took on a whole new meaning. I wrote to the kind-hearted eBay seller from Wisconsin to thank her for giving me the chance to experience something I won't even try to explain (if you've ever been to a U2 concert, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about). We stayed in touch for a while, so happy to know someone else who really shared our obsession, but then reality set in and we got busy in the real world.
Back in October 2004, I sent her a card and we started to reconnect in anticipation of upcoming events surrounding the release of the new CD, “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb,” the announcement of tour dates, the ticket mayhem, etc. Being a South-central East-Coaster, it was my destiny to have to wait for the third leg, but once ticket sales started, I got too hyped. I called my Wisconsin friend and asked her if she'd meet me in Chicago to do the GA thing—after all, I didn't actually know anyone who would join me in this adventure and wanted to experience it all the way. Of course, we had to cave in and buy from eBay, but once we made up our minds there was no way an extra $100 would stand in our way.
On Sunday May 8th, my friend, her sister and daughter, picked me up at O'Hare. There I was standing at the arrival terminal having to describe myself by cell phone so they could see who they were going to be spending the next three days with. We quickly became good friends after spending the afternoon at Millennium Park, just down the street from the Palmer House Hilton.
That night, we went to the Hard Rock Café U2 Fan Club party. We got up at 5 am. and headed to the United Center where we became Numbers 103 and 104. What an awesome experience, in spite of the rain, lining up with hundreds of others who get it. At 1 p.m. we walked to McDonald's and, on the way back, got lucky and were able to catch the limo transporting the world's greatest guitarist—The Edge. He got out and signed a few autographs. I was able to get a couple of pictures and thought I was the most fortunate person in the world. Then Bono's limo pulled up and suddenly I was at arm's reach with, undoubtedly, the most inspirational human being alive. I decided I'd rather try for some good close-ups and save the opportunity for an autograph for next time. After this most amazing experience, I decided it didn't matter where I stood that night; I was so thankful at that moment and convinced it couldn't get any better.
After the long wait in line, I changed in the back of a nice couple's SUV since they had tinted windows and my body's 51 years old. Then I did the best I could (after a day in rainy, windy Chicago) with the hair and makeup. One last trip to the Porta Potty and we took our places in line. Once again we were in the right place at the proverbial right time as the video crew working on the live DVD passed by and we were filmed telling the story of how we became friends. We looked at each like "How cool is this?" as we signed the release form.
Although I was hoping to get "Vertigo" which admits you into the Ellipse, I wasn't surprised when "Proceed to Floor" popped up on the ticket scanner; I'm used to "Drink Coke… Try Again." I then proceeded to walk into the stadium and tried for a spot on the coveted rail on Edge's side. That side had just filled up so I grabbed my friend and raced to the other side where I gleefully took my place on the rail. Only three people after us were as lucky. I'm not even going to try to explain how this felt. After all the waiting, the anticipation, you look around and realize, "We're here!"—absolutely incredible. Once we came down to earth, we noticed we were surrounded by some of the many friends we'd made in the line earlier in the day. Slowly the empty stadium filled up and Kings of Leon took the stage. They band was fun to listen to, lots of talent and a bright future. Of course, the members were mere babes, younger than my own sons, but cute as they could be, nonetheless.
At 9 the lights went down. It was dark but U2 lit the place up with "City of Blinding Lights" and really gave us something we could feel. I'd try to explain the feelings going through me as the confetti fell from the sky, but it's flat-out impossible. I think you'll just have to wait and see for yourself when the Vertigo DVD is released because they were filming it right before my very eyes. Does it get any better than this?
After the show, we headed straight to the hotel room where a Chicago pizza was delivered to our room. After we devoured it, we called the desk to request late check-out and fell hard.
I know this sounds cliché, but, man, did I dream well that night. I dreamt that I was at the show and some kind of boom lifted me up—way in the air—Bono was down on another one, but not up as high. I was reaching down to him and he was reaching up to me and I was saying, "I trust you, I trust you," and I just kept reaching and stretching and I finally let go and he caught me. It was incredible.
When I woke up, I laid there quietly because the other three were sound asleep. I started to pray and thank God for everything that I felt so very grateful and blessed for having had. I laid there and tears started to stream down my face—for the first time I had a moment to reflect on what had happened to me and I just had a tremendous outpouring of love and peace and utter joy.
An hour later, my friend woke up and I looked over there and she had tears streaming down her face. At first she was sort of trying to hide it but I told her the same thing happened to me. Then I started to cry too and we were definitely one at that moment.
We checked out and went to Cosi's to get a take-out picnic lunch and went back to the park to enjoy the sunny day. We decided to head over to the marquee entrance of the United Center and try our luck at catching the Boys coming in for sound check. We waited for an-hour-and-a-half and just when we decided we better head out, we crossed the street and who do you think pulls right up, rolls down the window and flashes that incredible smile while gesturing peace? Easy, but guess who's sitting right next to him in the back of the limo? Only the luckiest woman alive—Bono's wife Ali. The limo pulls in, Bono gets out and we just gravitated over four lanes of traffic. Somehow I managed to occupy some previously off-limits space by getting between the film crew and the crowd. Bono made his way down, chatting and signing autographs, and I was behind a couple of people and pulled out the picture I had in my jeans pocket and stretched as hard as I could and just kept reaching and stretching. Instead of saying "I trust you, Bono, I trust you," I said. "Please, please, please, Bono please," never screaming it, just persistently and desperately saying it. Just then he looked directly into my eyes and he took the photo and signed it and when he gave it to me, I looked at him and I said, "I want to kiss you" and he put his arms around me and I kissed him. While I was hugging him I said in his ear, "Thank you Bono for everything you are doing" and, just like that, I added two more great moments to my treasured, wonderful life. Afterwards, I found my friend and I kissed her and hugged her and whispered in her ear, "I want to share Bono's kiss with you."
We had to leave to get to the airport. On the way, they loaded a B-side song into the CD player that I'd never heard. As I listened, I heard that familiar, awesome voice for the first time since the show he was singing to me, "Here she comes/Lady Luck again/My lady with the spinning head." I began to cry, then almost an unbelievable burst of emotion, I cried the rest of the way to the airport.
When we arrived we got out of the car to say our tender good-byes. I reached into the back of Towanda's Mustang ("Towanda" is my friend's fan club name; I'm "Donna BoBonna") and gave her daughter a hug. I thanked her for putting up with an old granny lady. She sweetly told me she thought I was an awesome woman and that she felt lucky to know me. Then I turned to her sister "Chee-mo" who I'd had an immediate connection with and shared many good laughs with. It was hard saying goodbye, but we vowed to do this again and we're definitely friends for life. My friend and I didn't really have to say anything except "I love you."
So I sat there and watched the sun set. The flight was for 8:55 pm. It took off right on time and as we flew over Chicago, I scoped out downtown and looked west until I could make out the United Center. I looked at my watch and it was precisely 9. The Boys were taking the stage as I looked down on a City of Blinding Lights. It was an awesome sight and gave me one last opportunity to reflect on my incredible journey, today and in my lifetime.
2005.05
It's a beautiful day, blue skies all around me. I'm watching a perfect Chicago sunset outside of O'Hare. It's Bono's birthday, May 10, 2005. I'm so overwhelmed by the events of the last several days that I'm absolutely overcome with emotion. I've waited a long, long time to tell this story. Somehow, in my heart, I knew I had waited long enough. Boy was I ever right.
I've been a U2 fan from the beginning. I was a young mother with two beautiful sons when the Boys began their journey to become The World's Greatest Band. I was never able to physically join them at a concert but I've always been there in spirit. After struggling through some very difficult times, I met my wonderful husband in 1988; three years later, his daughter became the daughter I never had.
Back in November 2001, with three grown children, I decided it was time for me to do something I had always wanted to do. The Elevation Tour was winding down, tickets were going for big bucks, so out of desperation I contacted an eBay seller whose auction never reached reserve and convinced her to sell two tickets at less than face value to give an old U2 fan the chance to partake. We planned to drive from Virginia to Atlanta for the show but my selfless husband instead encouraged me to fly down and visit my old college roommate instead. What an opportunity to spend such a special time with her and revisit the good old days woo-hoo-ing at a great rock concert together. The experience is a whole volume for another day. When I returned to Virginia I vowed that next time I'd pay whatever it took. I was a changed woman; the term "live for today" took on a whole new meaning. I wrote to the kind-hearted eBay seller from Wisconsin to thank her for giving me the chance to experience something I won't even try to explain (if you've ever been to a U2 concert, you'd know exactly what I'm talking about). We stayed in touch for a while, so happy to know someone else who really shared our obsession, but then reality set in and we got busy in the real world.
Back in October 2004, I sent her a card and we started to reconnect in anticipation of upcoming events surrounding the release of the new CD, “How to Dismantle an Atomic Bomb,” the announcement of tour dates, the ticket mayhem, etc. Being a South-central East-Coaster, it was my destiny to have to wait for the third leg, but once ticket sales started, I got too hyped. I called my Wisconsin friend and asked her if she'd meet me in Chicago to do the GA thing—after all, I didn't actually know anyone who would join me in this adventure and wanted to experience it all the way. Of course, we had to cave in and buy from eBay, but once we made up our minds there was no way an extra $100 would stand in our way.
On Sunday May 8th, my friend, her sister and daughter, picked me up at O'Hare. There I was standing at the arrival terminal having to describe myself by cell phone so they could see who they were going to be spending the next three days with. We quickly became good friends after spending the afternoon at Millennium Park, just down the street from the Palmer House Hilton.
That night, we went to the Hard Rock Café U2 Fan Club party. We got up at 5 am. and headed to the United Center where we became Numbers 103 and 104. What an awesome experience, in spite of the rain, lining up with hundreds of others who get it. At 1 p.m. we walked to McDonald's and, on the way back, got lucky and were able to catch the limo transporting the world's greatest guitarist—The Edge. He got out and signed a few autographs. I was able to get a couple of pictures and thought I was the most fortunate person in the world. Then Bono's limo pulled up and suddenly I was at arm's reach with, undoubtedly, the most inspirational human being alive. I decided I'd rather try for some good close-ups and save the opportunity for an autograph for next time. After this most amazing experience, I decided it didn't matter where I stood that night; I was so thankful at that moment and convinced it couldn't get any better.
After the long wait in line, I changed in the back of a nice couple's SUV since they had tinted windows and my body's 51 years old. Then I did the best I could (after a day in rainy, windy Chicago) with the hair and makeup. One last trip to the Porta Potty and we took our places in line. Once again we were in the right place at the proverbial right time as the video crew working on the live DVD passed by and we were filmed telling the story of how we became friends. We looked at each like "How cool is this?" as we signed the release form.
Although I was hoping to get "Vertigo" which admits you into the Ellipse, I wasn't surprised when "Proceed to Floor" popped up on the ticket scanner; I'm used to "Drink Coke… Try Again." I then proceeded to walk into the stadium and tried for a spot on the coveted rail on Edge's side. That side had just filled up so I grabbed my friend and raced to the other side where I gleefully took my place on the rail. Only three people after us were as lucky. I'm not even going to try to explain how this felt. After all the waiting, the anticipation, you look around and realize, "We're here!"—absolutely incredible. Once we came down to earth, we noticed we were surrounded by some of the many friends we'd made in the line earlier in the day. Slowly the empty stadium filled up and Kings of Leon took the stage. They band was fun to listen to, lots of talent and a bright future. Of course, the members were mere babes, younger than my own sons, but cute as they could be, nonetheless.
At 9 the lights went down. It was dark but U2 lit the place up with "City of Blinding Lights" and really gave us something we could feel. I'd try to explain the feelings going through me as the confetti fell from the sky, but it's flat-out impossible. I think you'll just have to wait and see for yourself when the Vertigo DVD is released because they were filming it right before my very eyes. Does it get any better than this?
After the show, we headed straight to the hotel room where a Chicago pizza was delivered to our room. After we devoured it, we called the desk to request late check-out and fell hard.
I know this sounds cliché, but, man, did I dream well that night. I dreamt that I was at the show and some kind of boom lifted me up—way in the air—Bono was down on another one, but not up as high. I was reaching down to him and he was reaching up to me and I was saying, "I trust you, I trust you," and I just kept reaching and stretching and I finally let go and he caught me. It was incredible.
When I woke up, I laid there quietly because the other three were sound asleep. I started to pray and thank God for everything that I felt so very grateful and blessed for having had. I laid there and tears started to stream down my face—for the first time I had a moment to reflect on what had happened to me and I just had a tremendous outpouring of love and peace and utter joy.
An hour later, my friend woke up and I looked over there and she had tears streaming down her face. At first she was sort of trying to hide it but I told her the same thing happened to me. Then I started to cry too and we were definitely one at that moment.
We checked out and went to Cosi's to get a take-out picnic lunch and went back to the park to enjoy the sunny day. We decided to head over to the marquee entrance of the United Center and try our luck at catching the Boys coming in for sound check. We waited for an-hour-and-a-half and just when we decided we better head out, we crossed the street and who do you think pulls right up, rolls down the window and flashes that incredible smile while gesturing peace? Easy, but guess who's sitting right next to him in the back of the limo? Only the luckiest woman alive—Bono's wife Ali. The limo pulls in, Bono gets out and we just gravitated over four lanes of traffic. Somehow I managed to occupy some previously off-limits space by getting between the film crew and the crowd. Bono made his way down, chatting and signing autographs, and I was behind a couple of people and pulled out the picture I had in my jeans pocket and stretched as hard as I could and just kept reaching and stretching. Instead of saying "I trust you, Bono, I trust you," I said. "Please, please, please, Bono please," never screaming it, just persistently and desperately saying it. Just then he looked directly into my eyes and he took the photo and signed it and when he gave it to me, I looked at him and I said, "I want to kiss you" and he put his arms around me and I kissed him. While I was hugging him I said in his ear, "Thank you Bono for everything you are doing" and, just like that, I added two more great moments to my treasured, wonderful life. Afterwards, I found my friend and I kissed her and hugged her and whispered in her ear, "I want to share Bono's kiss with you."
We had to leave to get to the airport. On the way, they loaded a B-side song into the CD player that I'd never heard. As I listened, I heard that familiar, awesome voice for the first time since the show he was singing to me, "Here she comes/Lady Luck again/My lady with the spinning head." I began to cry, then almost an unbelievable burst of emotion, I cried the rest of the way to the airport.
When we arrived we got out of the car to say our tender good-byes. I reached into the back of Towanda's Mustang ("Towanda" is my friend's fan club name; I'm "Donna BoBonna") and gave her daughter a hug. I thanked her for putting up with an old granny lady. She sweetly told me she thought I was an awesome woman and that she felt lucky to know me. Then I turned to her sister "Chee-mo" who I'd had an immediate connection with and shared many good laughs with. It was hard saying goodbye, but we vowed to do this again and we're definitely friends for life. My friend and I didn't really have to say anything except "I love you."
So I sat there and watched the sun set. The flight was for 8:55 pm. It took off right on time and as we flew over Chicago, I scoped out downtown and looked west until I could make out the United Center. I looked at my watch and it was precisely 9. The Boys were taking the stage as I looked down on a City of Blinding Lights. It was an awesome sight and gave me one last opportunity to reflect on my incredible journey, today and in my lifetime.
Thank u donna for sharing ur story, I only wish I had had the same opportunity on this leg of the tour! 
But, alas-first time I Ever missed a U2 tour! Bummer...but, ur story gives me hope for November!!
