by Front Row Perspective

The walk to the Pepsi Center isn't a long one from downtown, only a couple of miles, so we left my car near the office and in my trusty sandals, started the urban hike to Denver's lower west side.

The weather at the moment was fantastic, much better than the cold/windy/rainy
day that had been predicted.

At 11:30, we reckoned that the faithful would have filled the parking lot so imagine our surprise when we arrived to find only about 75 people in line before us. Had someone moved the party? No! Oh wait, WE ARE 2 of the faithful!

The details of the wait are hardly worth more than snippeted remembrances that included cold/wind/rain. I'm now the not-so-proud owner of a Denver Nuggets (basketball team) sweatshirt, as it was the cheapest
one for sale in the Pepsi Center retail shop. By 2:30 p.m. on the day of the show, I was also the owner of a pair of very expensive Denver Avalanche socks
and my feet were again my friends.

By 4 p.m., one of the security guards (who looked as though ZZTop might be his fancy rather than U2) took the first 350 in the growing congregation and banded us, told us that from this point, we were not allowed
to leave the line unless we wanted to be part of the 'common' crowd. They then herded us into a small space in which we became intimately familiar with the people
around us. We couldn't sit down lest we be right at eye level in a sea of "bottoms."

The cattle stall that was our home for two and a half hours was situated between tents for two competing radio stations. One station ensured that we heard every U2 song from A-Z; the other (by way of non-competition while competing?) played their regular broadcast. It was a bit like this... from left to right and back again... I'm like a bird, I'll only fly away... in the name of love... what more in the name of... I don't know where my heart is...

The stress of being cramped together with 349 of my new best friends was beginning to wear me down and finally I hung my head against the shoulder of Jesse, a stranger
no more.

The husband showed up with a bag of pretzels so we found sustenance and then collectively wished for dental floss. Someone else was enjoying pixie stix and drinking Red Bull.

My knees were protesting by this time; as were the feet and back. I was wondering if, by chance, they would have t-shirts for sale, "I survived U2".

Finally, one page worth of descriptions later, they opened the doors to the arena. The stage was set up with a heart-shaped catwalk that extended into the middle of the general admission floor seats. We'd
heard that the master and his edgy right-hand man spent much time sauntering about the catwalk; so while our wait gave us access to the middle of the heart, we
opted for the outside of the tip instead...and found ourselves at the front row at the altar.

PJ Harvey opened and as she sang (screamed?) I counted the number of songs, thinking "just one more...","please... make it be only just one more!" Perhaps I just didn't hear her correctly through her accent but it seemed as though her songs were so angry. Is she not one of the faithful? Perhaps the love was buried in the lyrics. "I want a pistol in my hand"...

By then it was 8:30 and someone reckoned that church would begin at 8:45. I was struggling in every bit of my body. Wishing for a reserved seat. Concentrating on
moving so that my feet wouldn't go numb. Convincing myself not to faint. And did I mention wishing for a reserved seat?!

Finally, the familiar tones of Elevation rounded the packed house and all of the planets aligned. Cloaked in typical black, the priest bounded onto stage while
the house lights were still up and to our delight, he found his way immediately to our spot...so that he was as close as an arms length away. He could have only been closer if he'd been in the cattle stall with us earlier in the day.

The ego is so much bigger than the Pepsi Center will hold... but I laughed to myself and fell into the throngs of the bono-fide faithful, extending my hand too so that it could be held and blessed. While the
pants leg was truly JUST in front of my face, I, still giggling, took the opportunity to rub the calf as if
it were the belly of a slightly more well-known religious figure.

My friend was equally beside herself and had opportunity to hold hands with and take home sweat from the bonostic one.

The night was filled with multiple Bono-touchings as he stayed 'with us' almost the entire show. At one point he laid down in front of us to sing part of a
song, kneeled to our level to sing others, and even threw himself into the crowd just to our left...before disappearing for a change of clothes.

Quite hilarious but fantastically fun. Not wanting to be accused of worshipping false idols, I tried to not let Bonochrist know that I was secretly more interested in watching the Edge's fingers play guitar
than in watching the master once the Edge joined our little tip-of-the-heart party.

As always, the music was outrageously wonderful and truly love-filled. No hype to this show. Just the music and the power of love. When the band was introduced, each came to the tip of the heart for a
bit, including their quiet drummer Larry. All fun.

They ended the concert with Walk On...and at the end, with the lyrics written in light and projected so that they climbed the crowds, Bono had 14,000 ringing in a chorus of Hallelujah... over and over again. Quite a
spectacular end.

How I made it back to my car, I'm not sure, given my body's wracked state. Perhaps it was the annointment after all.

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