by Christy

By day, a quiet office-type. I come in generally around 8:15-ish, give or take 10 minutes, put in an honest day’s worth of editing, and leave around 4:30 if the weather’s nice (not to worry boss, I do live in Rochester). You would never guess it if you passed me in the aisle at the local grocers, and I would have never guessed it of myself either, but on June 2, 2001 at my first actual, physical sight of Bono, the Edge, Adam, and Larry, I was reduced to a screaming fan. I became one of those freaky girls you see black and white footage of from the Beatle’s first appearance on the Ed Sullivan Show (sans tears mind you).

I made a pact with my U2-adoring sister that we would see them this year, and see them we did! After so many ticket-ordering fiascos, it was finally confirmed that we would converge on Albany--me from Rochester, her from New York--and make a weekend of it. We were excited, but having no prior live U2 experiences, we didn’t know just how excited we should be.

As our state’s capital braced itself for the revenue generating opportunity of the month, I packed the car disc changer chock full of U2 CDs, and pointed the car in the general direction of Albany. We had reservations at what looked like a charming bed and breakfast Carrie (that’s my sister) had found online, and for once the place was actually as good--in some aspects better--than the pictures. We checked in Saturday around noon and were amazed to find that the two-bedroom suite we’d reserved took up the entire second floor of the brownstone that is the State House.

This inn was plush. If you find yourself in Albany, and you want to stay some place off the beaten path, some place with feather beds that you sink into at night, then this is the place. The hostess was very helpful in recommending restaurants, so we set out to find some lunch. We ate at this great little diner that also had a general store in it. I mean, we’re talking general: art supplies, keys, gum, BLTs.

Now, we went for the general admission tickets, which required us standing in line for a bit before the show, but it was well worth it. We ended up just a few rows off the edge of the heart. A word about the set for those of you unacquainted with the Elevation tour stage: there are two long ramps in the shape of a heart coming off of the stage. This heart encompasses the first 300 fans that get in the door. The rest of the general admission ticket holders then fill the rest of the floor. So there we were, rocking out to opening act Miss PJ Harvey and gearing up for the show of our lives.

When they actually took the stage, I couldn’t believe that I was looking at this fabulous foursome from Dublin, in the flesh. They lived up to and far exceeded every expectation I had, which seems to be a pattern for me lately. All of the screaming, and whooping, and hoarse voices were worth it. All the planning, and plotting, and waiting, and purchases were beyond worth it. My new mantra is, "If they tour, I will go." It’s as simple as that.

Some show highlights, relayed in chronological order.

While PJ Harvey was playing her heart out, these two girls who looked like they were at the wrong show (Hey, the Brittany Spears show is next week!) barged into my sister, didn’t apologize, and then proceeded to squish in front of me, making it a little difficult to breathe. One of them turned to me and said, "Who is this?" Everyone around me was in amazement that those words actually came out of her mouth. I said, matter-of-factly, "PJ Harvey." Hoping that would be enough information, I put my focus back on the stage. "Who’s that?" Rolling my eyes and glancing at Carrie, I try to keep it simple: "She’s an artist from England." But I couldn’t just leave it at that, because I felt like they just did not know how annoyed I was with them. "Didn’t you read your ticket?" I say all indignant. And the giddy response was, "No, we just bought them like five minutes ago." It was then that I decided not to trifle with them any longer, and I just looked right over the top of their poofy hair (being 5’8" does have its advantages at times) and cheered my heart out for Polly.

When U2 took the stage, everyone freaked out… and that was definitely the beginning of the end for me; raving fandom was only minutes away when Bono made his first pass down the ramp just feet from me. Soon afterwards, the Edge came sauntering down the ramp as the spotlight illuminated him from behind. As he walked by, he was scanning the faces of the crowd that were now lit from the spot following him. Just as he passed us, Evan (that’s Carrie’s beau) turned around and yelled, "The Edge just looked right at me!!!!" with all the intensity of a four-year-old on their birthday getting everything they want.

Unfortunately, none of us got pulled onto the stage to sing a round of the "One" chorus with Bono, but we didn’t let that spoil our fun. As we left the arena, we were all quite speechless. We wandered up the street to our car, a bit dazed and a bit drained, but all agreeing that that was the best show ever, and that the only thing that could possibly top it will be the next U2 show we see.

We headed back to the B&B, put on some more comfortable shoes, and then went looking for some dinner since we forwent that for standing in line to get a decent spot at the show. We considered this ethnically confused restaurant called Roma’s that was touting its Greek fare, but passed on that. We got turned down for a table at another restaurant (the server said she was too busy to take another table, but when we left via the door that gave us a full view of the dining room, we counted at least five open tables... at least!). So we settled on the SoHo Pizza parlor. At first blush, we decided the proprietors had never really been to SoHo, but the pie wasn’t bad.

Back on our second-floor suite, we consumed the pizza, washed it down with some icy cold Bass, and tried to recap all the songs of the show. What really amazed us was the number of songs they pulled from passed albums--it was such a well-rounded show. With our ears still ringing (really loudly), we nestled into our respective feather mattressed, down comforted, and overly pillowed beds like happy little birds, our spirits truly elevated. Breakfast was absolutely fabulous the next morning, and Carrie and I parted ways on a sleepy Sunday morning in Albany.

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