Unfinished Business

Sorting through files on my computer as I prepare for the switch from WindowsXP to Ubuntu, I found a piece I began writing a couple of years ago and never finished. It's one that I've wanted to get done, but when I remembered it I wasn't motivated to write, and when I felt like writing I would forget about it and move on to something else. So what I've decided to do is post it in its current (crappy) state. Having it displayed in public should give me plenty of reason to finish it. Plus it will give anyone who may be curious a look into my writing process as I update the post with each draft.

What you see below is a direct transcription of my handwritten notes minus (most of) the spelling errors.

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The park is crowed with people on this bright, clear Sunday evening. It’s the third week of April and it seems like the entire city has come out from under their winter coats and umbrellas to enjoy the first few days of spring weather here at Seattle Center. I’m sitting on the steps outside the east entrance to Key Arena watching as families and couples and groups of teenagers walk past. They talk and yell and laugh, surrounding me with the noise of a city on its day off. But over it, I hear something else. A guitar coming from the Arena, slightly muffled by yards of concrete and glass yet still very loud, is playing the same three notes over and over again. It’s The Edge. Inside, U2 is doing a sound check, warming up for their concert set to begin in three hours time.

As he walked around the perimeter of the stage, Bono reached into the audience and took a flag being offered to him by a fan. It was the Irish flag and as Bono waved the orange and green banner of his homeland, I was struck by a sense of irony. In 1983, while on stage during their War Tour, Bono frequently waved a giant White flag of surrender during Sunday, Bloody Sunday. He would open the song by saying, “There is but one flag, the white flag!” U2 have never been afraid to declare their beliefs, and Bono is certainly conscience of the fact that he is Irish; he has made it clear that he feels a connection…

U2 were made famous by the energy, volume and passion of their live shows in the 1980’s and made infamous by their over the top, tongue-in-cheek commercialized tours of the 1990’s. (1997’s Popmart tour featured a giant McDonald's arch and a 40 foot lemon as part of the stage.) It was not until the 2000 Elevation tour that they were able to combine the emotion and power of their earlier War and Joshua Tree tours with the high production quality and audio-visual elements of the later Zoo TV and Popmart shows.
The band’s current tour titled, “Vertigo” after the first single off their latest album is in many ways an extension of the Elevation shows of four years ago. The stage is the centerpiece of the show. Shaped like a giant egg, it extends half way across the floor of the arena. One half of the interior of the ellipse is taken up by a circular platform that elevates the band above the audience while the other half is left open. Around 300 fans are able to stand in this interior section and are privileged to a 360 degree experience as Bono, The Edge and bassist Adam Clayton spend much of the concert moving around the perimeter walkway.

Back outside the arena, it’s now just minutes before the doors open. I stand near the front of the mass of bodies that constitutes the “line” as more and more people push in from behind. The crowd is buzzing with conversation as everyone jabbers nervously with their companions in anticipation. Having come alone, I have no one in particular to talk to and instead listen in on the conversations around me…
…The doors open, and the first wait is finally over. The reservoir of people built up behind the doors breaks through the entrance and quickly disperses to the various section of the venue. My fleece jacket hangs heavy on my shoulders as I make my way up the stairs to my second level seat. My pockets are stuffed full of T-shirts and other memorabilia I purchased outside…

The stench emanating from the aging hippie in front of me is nearly overpowering. Its eight day BO thinly veiled by bad colon. These two elements I’ve encountered before. But the third component of the funk is unexpected. As I try harder to forget about the man who I’m now convinced is a thoroughly lost Grateful Dead fan, it becomes more and more impossible to ignore the putrid quaff flowing up from him. Then I see it. A small plastic bottle quickly lifted to his lips and dropped back down again. They’re not serving alcohol at the concession stands, I realize. And this man, apparently unable to sit through the concert without his booze, has with him the only form of alcohol he could get past security, NyQil. He’s worked his way through about half the bottle already. How is this guy even staying awake?